Page 92 of Perfectly Faked

I watch him leave, the ache in my chest ballooning. I want to chase after him, to tell him I don’t care about medals or titles if it means not being here for him. But my feet stay glued tothe ground. Because deep down, I know he’s right. I can’t skate with Peterandstay here with him. It’s one or the other, and he’s made the decision for me.

I drive back to my apartment at Bellgate, my heart in pieces. By the time I park, my chest feels hollow, like I’ve left a piece of myself behind. My fingers trail the hem of Leo’s jersey, a piece of him to take with me to Seattle. He didn’t ask for it back, maybe because he already knew my answer.I’m never giving up this jersey.

Delilah’s table lamp glows in her apartment window, welcoming me home. I wonder if she’s baking brownies or talking to Big Bertha while watchingWheel of Fortune. My heart squeezes at the thought of leaving her.

It’s only for a year,I tell myself.Not forever. I’ll be back.

Then I send Peter a message letting him know my answer:I’m booking a flight to Seattle.

I pass Delilah’s door on my way to my apartment. Even though I hate the worn carpet in the halls and the dingy light over my door that flickers weirdly, I’m going to miss my first apartment, the only one I could afford on a skater’s salary. Nothing in this place should make me want to stay, and let’s face it, it’s not the crack-house feel that kept me here. It was the people in this town—Leo, Jaz, Sloan, Delilah, and the whole hockey team.

My neighbor’s door cracks open, one eye peering out. “What’s wrong, honey?”

I already told her about this opportunity with Peter, but I didn’t want to make her worry for nothing. After all, I’m not going to give up my apartment just yet.

I turn to face her, giving her what I hope passes for a brave smile. “I’m leaving for Seattle to skate with Peter. I’ve finally decided to go!”

“Oh,” she says, her brow folding into worried lines. “That’s good, I guess. When will you leave?”

“As soon as I can get a flight out. But I’ll be back. I’m keeping my apartment for now. It’s not forever, just a year at most.”

She worries her lip, like that answer doesn’t satisfy her. In a year so much could change. Look at my own life.

“What about that handsome hockey player? He was so perfect for you.”

A smile curls on the edges of my lips, thinking of Leo. “He is.”So perfect it almost hurts. “I’ll see him when I can.” Which won’t be much, if I’m honest. I’ll hardly have time to sleep, let alone travel here to see my friends.

“How about we bake brownies together before I leave?” I suggest, suddenly feeling nostalgic for one last bite of Delilah’s fudgy treats.

“I’d like that,” she says, opening her door wider, inviting me in.

It might be my last chance to spend time with her. As soon as I enter, Big Bertha calls me a meathead, and I call him a fat chicken. Gosh, I’m going to miss this, even this overweight bird.

“Can we make extras?” I ask. “For Leo? I have a feeling he’s going to need some brownies after I’m gone.”

She gives me a knowing smile. “Sure, honey. I just hope you know what you’re doing, leaving him behind.”

I hope I do, too.

Later that night, after the brownies are cooling on the counter and my bags are packed, I send my dad a message.

Victoria

I’m leaving for Seattle ASAP, and there’s only one thing I ask. Put in a good word for Leo so he gets the time off he needs. If not for him, then for me.

THIRTY-SIX

leo

Brendan storms through the front door of our house while Brax, Tate, Vale, and I are halfway through breakfast. Vale’s on a rare three-day break from his team in Tampa, so the gang’s all here. It feels good to have everyone together again, even if I’ve hardly had time to see them.

“I’ve got news for Leo,” Brendan says. “Coach got Uncle Rafael to approve your leave of absence.”

“What?” I say, dropping my spoon in my cereal. “Did you do this?” I ask, my gaze snapping to Brendan as he sinks into the seat across from me.

“Wasn’t me. I’m just the conditioning coach,” Brendan replies, his tone casual as he reaches for a slice of toast. He looks over at Tate. “Was it you?”

Tate pauses mid-bite of his massive bowl of Lucky Charms. “How would I convince Coach to do that?”

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