Faking It with the Forward: Wittmore U Hockey

The bright yellow truck stop sign glows against the gray sky. Nightfall comes faster now, and although I don’t mind the cold, I’m not a fan of the shorter days. I hate leaving the house before daylight and coming home after the sun sets.

I pull into the driveway, past the eighteen-wheelers, and spot Reese’s Challenger parked near the diner. Thankfully, practice was only watching film, because neither Reese nor I had the attention span to do much more. Both of our minds were occupied with why Brent asked us to meet way out here near the highway to talk.

“Hey,” he says, meeting me at the car. His hands are shoved in his pockets and it makes his shoulders seem even bigger. “Find it okay?”

“Yeah.” I look around. “Could he have picked a crappier place?” It’s all truckers and travelers. No students. I feel like the location choice must be as much about Brent not wanting to be seen as it is about our secret.

“We have no idea what he wants or knows,” he says, before we go in. “I think we need to hear him out before we say anything, okay?”

I nod, but my stomach churns. Reese and I are both recognizable in that picture. Coach Green will easily be able to recognize us. Somehow Brent knows our secret.

Reese opens the door, holding it for me to enter first. The scent of fried food wafts out along with the strains of classic rock. Two men sit at the counter and a solo guy sits in a booth by the front window. Reese strides in, shoulders squared to where Brent waits at booth in the back. There’s a plate with a hamburger and fries sitting in front of him.

It’s easy to see why Nadia was attracted to him. He’s undoubtedly handsome with a strong jaw and straight nose. Clean-cut with a Tom Brady vibe. The kind of guy a franchise could make their poster boy.

Too bad he’s a total asshole.

When we approach, he gestures to the empty seat across the table. I slide in first, next to the window, and Reese follows. I’m used to being around confident men. There’s no way to play college or higher-level sports without a healthy dose of egotism. It’s just part of the game. I try not to feel closed in, but it’s impossible not to feel small surrounded by two, hulking athletes. Both leaders on their teams. Both with something to lose.

It’s like an alpha male face-off.

“Want something?” he says, nodding to the waitress behind the counter. “This place is a shithole, but the food is amazing.”

“We’re not here to eat,” Reese says, his hand tangling with mine under the table. “What’s this all about?”

Brent pops a fry in his mouth. “Obviously some serious shit went down last night, starting with the fact you barged into my house uninvited—”

“My friend was in danger!” I bite back.

His eyes dart to Reese, some bro signal for him to control me, but Reese just shrugs and says, “She’s right. Nadia has made it clear that she didn’t want to be on camera and told CJ repeatedly.”

“He said, she said.” Brent dismisses, but he does lower his voice. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that it was stupid as fuck for CJ to film and post those videos. He’s been feeling down about his injury, and his prospects for the NFL. I felt sorry for him.” He shoves two more fries into his mouth and keeps talking. “Nadia’s easy. That girl will do anything I ask her to do. I figured she’d give him a blow job or ride him a few times and he’d blow off steam.” His eyes meet mine. “I didn’t know about the videos until he’d already put them up and I had no fucking idea he was doing it without consent.”

“Why would we believe that?” I ask. “You literally just admitted to passing girls around like candy.”

“I don’t really care if you believe me or not,” he shrugs and picks up his burger. “But what I do know you care about is that no one finds out that the two of you are fucking.”

“Why do you assume that?” Reese asks, casually, leaning back.

Brent takes a huge bite, chewing and swallowing before he replies, “Because your girl Shanna got her panties in a twist when I told her I saw you sneaking around with your tutor.”

“We weren’t sneaking—” I start, but he rolls his eyes and I stop.

“Babe, I know the look of a guy who just busted a nut, so don’t bother pretending like you weren’t.”

I should be used to crass jock talk by now, but from the heat burning my cheeks I’m obviously not immune.

“Shanna showed me a picture of the two of you together and told me that you’re the team trainer. It didn’t take long to find out that you two aren’t allowed to see each other and that’s why you’re keeping it a secret.” He smirks at me. “No one’s firing the Captain over here. You’re the one at risk of losing your job.”

“That’s a bold assumption,” Reese says.

“Is it? The look on your faces tells me I’m right.” He licks mustard off his thumb and leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about who you’re fucking, but after last night, I need a little leverage.”

“Let me guess,” I say sarcastically, “you want us to keep quiet about CJ running an amateur porn studio out of your house.”

“Yep. I’ll make sure he removes all the videos and deletes them too. Not just the ones of Nadia. But you have to agree to keep quiet about this. I don’t want to hear a fucking whisper about this on campus.”

“And if we don’t keep quiet?” Reese asks. “Or Nadia decides to report it?”

“She won’t,” he says confidently. I don’t miss the smug uplift of his lips. “I told you, she’ll do anything I ask her to do. But if I find out anyone says a word, that photo goes straight to Coach Bryant and every other member of the hockey staff, including your student advisor and the head of the athletic department.”

“Send it,” Reese says, nonchalantly. “Because fuck you and your blackmailing ass. We may be breaking a few rules but you two were breaking the law.”

Reese is right. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t stop the panic from building in the back of my throat. Everything I’ve worked for is about to crumble.

“Wait.” I grab Reese’s arm. “Can we talk first?”

He looks down at me, and there’s real confusion etched on his face. I give him a pleading look and he relents, “We need a minute.”

“Go for it,” Brent says, then waves over the waitress. “Can I add a slice of pie?”

Reese’s gait is agitated as I follow him out of the diner door and back into the parking lot. Once we’re outside his fingers thread through mine and he drags me around the side of the building.

“You’re not seriously considering this are you?” he asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Considering what? Keeping the secret we’ve been hiding for weeks now? Which has been for a very specific reason.” My voice bounces off the brick wall of the building. “Or not going to the police which is exactly what Nadia wants?”

His jaw tightens and his gray eyes blaze. I expect an argument, but I sure as hell don’t anticipate what comes next.

“Even before he asked to meet up, I was ready to figure out how to go public. I want to be with you, Twyler. All of you, all the time. I want you to be my girlfriend.” His hand rests on my shoulder and he gently slides it up my neck. A reminder of how sweet he was to me last night—how careful he was with my fears. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, not back behind some shitty truck stop diner, but…” he swallows, “I love you, Twy. And I’m not willing to let anyone else dictate this relationship any longer. Especially not a fucking asshole like Reynolds.”

I blink. “What did you say?”

“I love you.” His hand cups my cheek. “And I’m ready to go public—fuck the consequences.”

A flood of emotions runs through me. Happiness? Yeah, I mean, this incredible, sexy, supportive man just declared his love for me, but… fuck, there’s something else, this nagging self-doubt that’s so hard to shake. He loves me now? Now that he’s toe-to-toe with another alpha jock? Someone is walking out of here a winner, and I know Reese hates to lose.

“Do not get lost in your head, Sunshine. Push whatever negative thoughts are invading your brain aside. I’m serious.” He pulls me forward and places a kiss on my forehead. “I love you and you don’t have to say it back, but it’s been on my mind to say since I realized you were the most kick-ass girl I’ve ever met, and I don’t want to ever let you go.”

I want the whole goddamn world to know you’re mine.

“I don’t want to let you go either,” I say, a rush of conflicting endorphins running through me. “I love you too.”

“Thank Jesus.” He lifts me up and kisses me on the mouth. There’s no reason for this kiss to feel different from the last but it does. When we pull apart he asks, “Does that mean I get to tell that asshole to go fuck himself?”

I grimace, nose wrinkling, and feel him stiffen.

“Can we wait?” I ask.

He lowers me to the ground. “Wait for what? You know we can’t hide this forever.”

“I know.” He’s right. Every day it gets harder to sneak around, and as long as anyone knows, we’re at risk of being exposed. “I just don’t want Brent Reynolds to be the one that pushes me into talking to Green.”

“So you want to make a deal with him?” he asks warily.

“No. I just… I want to do this on my terms.” I squeeze his hand. “What he’s doing to us is no different from the bullshit he’s been pulling on girls like Nadia. Forcing women into compromising positions and making us risk our reputations if we don’t play by his shitty, manipulative rules.”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right.”

“Make the deal,” I tell him, “but it’s only temporary. I want to tell Coach Green because I want to come clean too. I hate lying to everyone and I really hate sneaking around. We’re not doing anything wrong. But I also don’t think that buying us a little time is a bad thing. It’ll force him to take and keep the videos down, and in the meantime, we can work on Nadia to make the report.”

“And you’ll tell Green?” The muscle at the back of his jaw tenses. “Because I’m serious, Twy, I’m tired of hiding this.”

I nod.

It’s time to come clean, but not without a little ammunition of my own.

Two, long, anxiety-filled days pass before Professor Purvi is available to meet with me during office hours. But now that I’m sitting across from my advisor, that urge to bolt is strong. What if she tells me something I don’t want to hear? Or I have to make a decision between my internship and Reese?

I hate feeling out of control, and everything about this situation feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

Professor Purvi flips through a thick file of papers on her desk—the standards and rules for working as an intern. She pushes her long, dark hair over her shoulder and closes the file. “I’ve triple-checked the criteria and there’s nothing in here that says it’s against the standards of your internship to date a player.”

“You’re sure?”

“Like I said, the university can’t dictate a student dating another student. It would be different if either you or the player in question held a position of authority, but since you’re both enrolled students at Wittmore, there doesn’t seem to be any conflict.”

“And do you have any problem with it?” I ask. “Ethically?”

“With you dating a hockey player?” She snorts. “No more than dating any of the other guys on campus. At least the varsity athletes have a measure of accountability around them.” She leans forward, resting on her elbows. “But in all seriousness, professionalism is important in a situation like this. Your internship comes first, especially one as coveted as varsity hockey. You’re being assessed based on your performance and you’ll need those references moving forward. The sporting community is tight-knit. Any job you apply for in the future will want a referral from Coach Green.”

“He’s made it clear he doesn’t approve and has warned me about getting involved with any of the players.”

“It’s possible he’s just looking out for you and being protective.” She rests her hands on the file and leans forward. “But I don’t think I have to tell you that you’ll have to work twice as hard in this field simply for the fact you’re a woman. If some of these coaches have a reason to accuse you of being a distraction, they’ll pounce on it.”

“That’s been my fear.” I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “I’m a hard worker. I do everything Coach Green asks me to do and then some. I get along with all the players and show no favoritism to the guy I’m seeing. In fact, I do my best to ignore him most of the time.”

She grins. “I’m sure he likes that.”

“He’s been respectful of my situation, but neither of us are comfortable hiding it anymore.” I don’t go into the situation with Brent and CJ. I’m still holding out hope that Nadia will file a report, but I also want to be prepared for it by getting my business together. “We’d both feel better getting this out in the open.”

“Then you should.” She smiles gently. “I can attend the meeting with you, if you’d like.”

“No,” I exhale. “Thank you, but I think this is something I should do on my own.”

The plan is to tell Coach Green as soon as I get to the arena, but the meeting with Professor Purvi started late. By the time I get there, the guys are already on the ice. Pete is sitting on the bench wrapping his ankle.

“Let me do that,” I say, dropping next to him on the bench.

“It’s fine,” he says, securing the end. “Coach is already pissed I’m not out there.”

“Wait.” I grab his foot and push my fingers under the tape, making sure there’s enough give. There’s not. “You need more flexibility in your ankle.”

“Pete!” Reid shouts. The guys zip up and down the ice, running shooting drills. “Get your ass out here!”

“See?” He grabs the roll of tape from me, and pulls off a long strip, wrapping it around two more times. He tosses it back and I catch it. “Thanks, TG.”

Before I can respond he’s gliding off, merging in with the others. I’m about to call out for him to come back when Reese skates up and grabs a bottle of water.

“How did it go?” he asks, squirting a stream into his mouth.

“Fine,” I focus on the bottles. “I’ll tell you later.”

“But everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” I give him a small smile, “I think so.”

He grins back and my stomach flips, both out of fear of being caught and the memory of hearing him say “I love you.” He hands me back the water bottle and his fingers graze mine. I’m so gone for this guy.

He skates off, shoulders squared, stick sweeping out to make contact with the puck already in play. He’s so natural at this, able to flip one switch to the other. Juggling work and my social life has never been a strength—to the point that I avoided it for a long time. My eyes are still trained on him, but a breakaway down the ice draws my attention away.

“Somebody block him!” Axel shouts, eyes wide as Pete comes barreling toward him as he chases the puck. His gait is awkward, fast, but out of control. He’s lacking the smooth finesse that I know he’s capable of. Panic fills Axel’s eyes as Reid hustles across the mouth of the goal, body rigid as he checks Pete, knocking him away from the goalie. The two players slam full speed into the wall, rattling the boards. Pete crumples to the ice, followed by a string of curses.

“What the hell, man?” Axel shouts, abandoning the goal and skating over, looking ready to get in a fight with his teammate. Reese is already in the middle of it, arms wide, keeping the guys apart. He drops to his knee and I lose sight of him as the others huddle around.

“Get the kit,” Coach Green orders, taking off toward the injured players. My heart pounds, and I grab the medical kit, following him out to the ice.

“Jesus Christ,” I hear Reid shout. “He wouldn’t stop! I had no choice.”

“Everyone move back!” Coach Green muscles through the players. They make a small gap and I skirt in behind him. Reese rises off the ground, moving back with the rest of the team. Reid stays, bent on one knee, his face red and flustered. Pete is leaning against the board, wearing a pained grimace. Coach Green carefully unlaces Pete’s skate and eases it off, revealing the thick tape. Coach asks, “Can you wiggle your toes?”

I know the answer to that is no. He barely had any flexibility.

“Perkins, hand me the scissors.”

Still standing, I open the kit and rummage around until my fingers make contact with the hard metal scissors. “Here,” I say, handing them over. Coach Green carefully cuts through the tape, but my stomach lurches when I see the way his ankle juts to the side, twisted unnaturally.

“Fuck,” Pete says, eyes wet. “Is it broken?”

“I fucking hope not,” Green mutters, inspecting his foot. The skin is white, but his toes are a purplish red. “You’ve just about cut off the circulation.” His gaze shifts up to me. “Did you wrap this?”

“I—” My words die in the back of my throat. I didn’t do it, but I should have. I was late and even then, when I saw it, I didn’t stop him. I knew he was pushing it too far and was going to get hurt.

“It’s not her fault.” A strong hand lands on my shoulder, heavy and reassuring. Reese adds, “Pete wrapped his own ankle.”

Staring down at that ankle, bile rises to the back of my throat. Coach Green was right after all. I was distracted. I did let it affect my work. I was late, dealing with this relationship drama. I didn’t tell Coach Green the risks he was taking and what he was asking me to do.

“Perkins!”

I blink, jerking away from Reese’s touch. “Yes, sir.”

“Go call the emergency number and get an ambulance down here.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat, dropping the kit on the ice. One last look at Pete and the anguish on his face and I understand now why Coach Green was so adamant about me not getting distracted. It was never about me and Reese. It was always about putting the team first.

As I rush away from the consequences of my actions, I realize that doing both is impossible.