Page 46 of Fake Out Hearts

“Yeah, keyword: helped. I didn’t score it.”

“So what? Your team still won! Doesn’t that count for something?”

He sighs and melts into his seat. “No. Not really.”

I’m not sure if it’s my place to ask, since I’m not actually his wife, but I don’t have a clue where all of this is coming from, especially after the amazing kiss we just shared. Theo seemed on top of the world after winning the game, so I can’t help wondering if something else is going on.

I decide to risk it. If we’re going to be living together, we’re going to have to learn to talk to each other about all kinds of things—especially the uncomfortable parts.

“What’s been going on with you this season?”

Theo taps the steering wheel with his hand. “Fuck, I wish I knew. Nothing has happened. It’s not like I got injured or someone died or anything like that that would make sense. I’m just… off. I’m trying harder, I mean I’m really pushing the hell out of myself, but it’s like there’s still a wall there or something. It’s frustrating as fuck.”

Without thinking about it, my hand finds his leg. “I’ve had struggles like that with dance sometimes.”

Theo’s eyes dart to mine. “Really?”

“Yeah, definitely. There were times where nothing was wrong, literally nothing. From the outside, it probably seemed to everyone around me like I had it all. A superstar boyfriend, a superstar life in the States, and a role on a TV show. Who wouldn’t be jealous of all that?”

He scoffs. “Anyone who knows what an asshole Kaplan is.”

I laugh and pat his leg. “Okay, fair. But the point stands. There were still times where I just didn’t want to dance at all. The spark wasn’t there, and that scared the hell out of me, because if I didn’t have dance, then what did I have?”

“That’s exactly how I feel! Hockey is my fucking life. So if I can’t even do that anymore, then what good am I?”

I knew there had to be more to this than just playing poorly. “Don’t say that. There’s plenty more that’s good about you than just your skills on the ice. This whole situation between us is living proof.”

Theo glances over at me, his eyes flashing in the headlights that pass us, but I can see the tension in his shoulders melting with every passing second. Finally, he sighs. “You’re right. Thanks for the reality check. I’m sure you don’t want to sit and listen to me bitch and complain anyway. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s normal to get down on yourself, especially when things aren’t going right. I know the feeling. That’s all I was trying to say.”

He changes hands on the steering wheel to rest one on mine. He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“I’m your wife, remember? That’s what I’m supposed to do,” I say, and Theo beams at me. We fall quiet for the rest of the drive, and his hand never leaves mine. But I’m not complaining, even if I’m starting to get more and more confused about where the line between real and fake in this relationship lies—and if it even matters where the line is.

When we get home, I go to my room to change into something more comfortable. An oversized t-shirt and shorts are the first thing I find in the bags I still haven’t fully unpacked, so I slip them on and pad back out into the kitchen to see what Theo’s up to and grab a snack since I haven’t eaten dinner yet.

Theo is standing at the kitchen island looking through the mail that I brought in for him earlier. He looks up at me, then freezes, his gaze locked on me. The smile that had started to spread across his face drops away as his jaw clenches, and I bite my lip.

Did he get some bad news in the mail?

“Is everything okay?” I ask tentatively after he stares at me in silence for a long moment. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s a man’s shirt. Is it Kaplan’s?” he finally asks.

My heart drops into my stomach—because it is. And all at once, I’m crystal clear on what the problem is.

“Oh.” I flush, looking down at myself. “Um, yes. I just threw a bunch of stuff in my bag when I was packing up my apartment. I totally forgot he gave this to me, it was a long time ago. I’ve been wearing it as a sleep shirt for months.”

Something flashes through Theo’s eyes, and he steps around the kitchen island, striding toward me with an intense look on his face. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing so close to me that I can see the shadow of stubble on his jawline. My heart hammers in my chest like it’s going to burst, and when he takes my hand, I jump slightly.

“I don’t like anything that belonged to that prick touching your skin,” he says in a low voice.

Heat floods my veins, and I’m viscerally aware of the warmth of his palm against mine.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I ask, and it comes out as a whisper.

“Take it off.”

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