"Your sister's coming?" Piper asks.
"Tomorrow."
"And she knows about—us?"
"She knows I've been 'seeing someone,' because Jax can't keep his mouth shut in the team group chat." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "She doesn't know it's fake."
Piper sinks onto the couch. "So now we have to fake date in front of your sister."
"Who will see through any bullshit because she's known me her whole life and can read me better than anyone." I drop ontothe couch beside her, leaving a respectable foot of space between us. "This is a disaster."
"Maybe we just tell her the truth?"
"And have her tell our mom, who will call me crying about how I'm incapable of forming real human connections and probably need therapy?" I shake my head. "No. We stick to the arrangement. You're my girlfriend. We're happy. Everything's normal and definitely not complicated."
"Right. Because we're so good at pretending we're not into each other." She laughs, but it's shaky. "Two more games just became two more games plus convincing your sister we're actually dating."
"Can you do it?"
"Convince your sister we're in love when we just admitted to each other that we're falling in love but trying not to act on it?" She turns to look at me, and there's something both funny and heartbreaking in her expression. "Yeah, Ryder. I can fake being in love with you. The hard part will be remembering it's supposed to be fake."
The space between us on the couch feels infinite and nonexistent all at once. If I moved my hand three inches, I'd be touching her. If I leaned in just slightly, I could kiss her.
"So we're back to fake dating?" I ask.
"Just for two more games." Her hands twist in her lap. Won't meet my eyes. "Then we'll figure it out."
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us believes we can do this.
Outside, Alaska winter presses against the windows. Inside, the space between us on this couch holds all the things we're not saying—all the ways we've already gone past the point of pretending any of this is fake.
My phone buzzes again. A text from Sage:
Sage: Can't wait to meet her! I'm bringing Mom's famous embarrassing photo album. You're welcome.
"Your sister sounds fun," Piper says, reading over my shoulder.
"She's a nightmare."
"I can't wait to meet her."
The way she says it—genuine, warm, like she actually wants to meet my family—wrecks every promise I just made myself. Because girlfriends meet families. Real girlfriends. The kind you don't walk away from after two more games.
"Piper," I start, but she's already standing, already moving toward the door.
"Two more games, Ryder. We can do this." She pauses with her hand on the door handle. "We're professionals, remember?"
Then she's gone, door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone in my cabin with her scent still lingering in the air and the ghost of her warmth beside me on the couch.
Two more games.
Two more games to prove I deserve the NHL while pretending I'm not in love with the woman next door. Two more games of convincing scouts I'm focused while my sister watches me fake date someone I actually want. Two more games of keeping my hands to myself when all I want is to cross those twenty-three feet and kiss Piper Meadows until we both forget why we're supposed to be waiting.
Two more games.
Chapter 17
