Page 66 of Perfectly Faked

I turn to Vic. She has no idea who this woman even is. “I think I should handle this,” I tell her under my breath.

“You can’t just leave our guest in the rain,” she whispers. She turns back to Tina and puts a hand out. “I’m Victoria, by the way.”

Tina stands slowly and looks over Victoria. “You’re very pretty,” she says, then looks at me. “You got a good one.”

“Yeah, I know.” I glance at Victoria. “This is Tina... my biological mother.”

Victoria gives her a warm smile. “It’s good to meet you.”

When we were dating before, I only mentioned in passing that I was adopted from foster care, carefully keeping those doors closed. Victoria, to her credit, was always respectful of my boundaries, never prying for details I wasn’t ready to share. She met my adoptive parents when they visited at college, but I really didn’t have much contact with Tina back then. She was busy chasing one loser boyfriend after another and largely ignoring any connection with me. Back then, I wasn’t much of a priority for her, and I was too busy trying to forget that part of my life.

It wasn’t until my hockey career took off after college that Tina decided she wanted more contact. But that’s the thing about her—she’s always been about timing. And her timing right now couldn’t be worse.

Victoria glances over, her eyes puzzled, trying to piece together why I’m not more excited for an unexpected visit. “Leo and I were filming a commercial together and then stopped for food afterward,” Victoria says. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She opens the door for my mother, and Tina looks around as she steps inside.

“Pretty place,” Tina says.

“Do you want something to drink?” Victoria asks.

I cut Tina a sharp glance.

“Water is fine,” she says. “Thank you.”

I invite Tina to sit, and glance up the steps. Much to my relief, it looks like everyone else is gone for the night. Victoria heads to the kitchen while I lean against the wall across from Tina. I don’t want to sit down and give her the impression I want her to stay a while.

“Why did you stop by tonight?” I ask cooly when Victoria is out of earshot.

“So now I need a reason to see my favorite kid?” She grins, but there’s a hint of nervousness behind it.

“Also, your only kid,” I reply, crossing my arms.

“Maybe I just wanted to meet this girl you’re so smitten with.” She gestures toward the kitchen.

“Considering you didn’t even know about her five minutes ago?” I lift an eyebrow. “Nice try.”

She looks at her fingers, folded in her lap. “I’ve been wondering how you are. Haven’t heard much from you lately. Guess I know why.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say. “And we both know you only come to see me when you need something, so what’s up?”

Her smile falters. She knows our history has been messy. The years of chaos, the visits from CPS, and the day everything I had was packed up—it all sits like a rock against my chest. Don’t get me wrong, where I ended up was a lot better than the life I could’ve had. But her mistakes are the reason I don’t trust people easily.

She glances at the fireplace, then to me. “I came over because I had the electric turned off at my house.”

“What happened to the job you had?” I ask, frowning.

“At the grocery store? I missed a day of work, and they fired me.”

I scrub my hand over my face. She doesn’t have to explain why because I already know. She probably drank too much the night before and overslept. Her problems are nothing new to me.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure Victoria isn’t there before lowering my voice. “If I give you the money for your electric bill and a hotel room, will you just leave?”

She frowns, then looks away in shame. “I’m not asking to be your charity case, or take your money. I just had nowhere to go.”She shifts on the couch, her voice softer. “Sometime, we should just talk. There are some things I need to tell you, and it sure beats sitting in the dark at my place.”

“You mean talk about our feelings?” I grimace. “Not my thing.” That’s why I chose hockey, the perfect sport for channeling your rage into something productive.

I fish a few large bills out of my wallet and thrust them toward her. “Here. Take this.” I know it’s a lousy move, the exact opposite of what she’s asking for, but I’m not ready for a relationship. I nod toward the door. “Victoria and I were in the middle of a date.”

“You want me to go?” She stares at the money, like she really doesn’t want to take it, before she slowly slips it into her pocket. “If you ever want to reconsider—” Her voice trails off, like she’s waiting on my next move. “Invitation’s always open.”

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