If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

“It’s an honor to have you here.” I shake Corbin Murray’s hand as I welcome him. He’s one of the many celebrities we’ve secured for the charity game today.

“I’m stoked!” He smiles widely.

“So are we. If you’re okay with it, we’d love for you to pose for a few photos, and then we’ll have you escorted to the locker room to suit up.” I direct him to the backdrop where the photographer is ready with the camera.

Tally takes his hockey bag as the next celebrity comes through the door.

“Hemi, it has been too long!” Eric Steele—his real name and not made up for acting—drops his bag and pulls me in for a warm hug.

“Hey! Thank you so much for agreeing to be here today.” I give him an affectionate squeeze.

Hammer is standing to my right with wide eyes.

Eric is slow to release me. His fingertips glide down my arms in a familiar way, and his fingers curl around mine. His eyes are soft and so is his smile. “You look great.”

I echo his grin and shake off the compliment. “You’re making me blush.”

“How are you? I saw that you’re dating Dallas Bright. Gotta admit, I was kind of shocked, considering. I’m guessing things have changed a lot in the past couple of years.”

Heat works its way up to my cheeks. Eric knows all about my disdain for Dallas. I scramble to make the lie sound convincing. “It’s, uh…complicated. But yeah, my feelings have changed.” Could I have asked Eric to be my date to the reunion? Sure. And I did consider it. But showing up with my ex, who also happens to be a popular movie star, would have felt like I was trying too hard. Now I regret not asking him, because showing up with Dallas is a whole different level of messed up. But it’s too late now.

He nods, assessing me. “Well, he’s a lucky guy.”

“Who’s a lucky guy?”

I go rigid as Dallas’s arm winds around my waist from behind. And then his entire chest presses against my back. I elbow him in the ribs. “We’ve talked about PDA,” I mutter.

We have not talked about PDA.

He backs off and holds up both hands. “Sorry, honey. I forget myself sometimes. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He moves to stand beside me and extends his hand. “Eric Steele, great to have you here.”

“Thanks, man.” Eric accepts his hand, and they shake it out for several seconds. “I was just saying you’re a lucky guy to have snagged Hemi.”

“The luckiest.” Dallas wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a brief squeeze. “My dream woman is finally all mine.”

“I should probably do the photo op and then get to the locker room. I’ll see you out there on the ice, yeah?” Eric says, seeming slightly uncomfortable.

“Looking forward to it,” Dallas replies.

He nods and looks to me. “Hemi, it’s always good to see you.”

“You, too.”

Eric grabs his bag and makes his way over to Tally for photos.

“My sister would lose her mind if she were here. She lived in the T-shirt she had from his Fae movie franchise all through vet school.” Dallas’s eyebrows pull together. “How do you and Eric know each other?”

“We dated a while back.”

“Dated? When?” Dallas props his fists on his hips. “How long ago is a while back?”

“Right after my undergrad. I did an internship in LA to get some experience, and he was a friend of a friend of a friend. We dated for a few months, and then I came back to do my master’s and that was that.”

“So you broke up because of distance?” Dallas confirms.

“It didn’t work for a reason.” He’s actually jealous. Why would my fake boyfriend be jealous of my ex? Okay, famous ex, but still. “Why are you out here? You need to get ready for the game.” I shove Dallas’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

“More reasons than distance?”

“This is not a Hollis-and-Scarlet-Reed situation. Calm down. Can we discuss this later, when we don’t have an audience and I’m not busy and you’re not supposed to be getting ready for the game?”

He runs his hands through his hair and exhales through his nose. It’s irritatingly hot. “Fine. I can be patient.” He leans in and his eyes drop to my lips. What the fuck is this fluttery feeling in my stomach all about?

When the flash of a camera goes off, I put a hand on his chest and lean back. “What are you doing?”

“I need a good-luck kiss from my girlfriend.”

“No, you don’t. You are not allowed to put your lips on me when I’m at work. There needs to be boundaries. Gear up. Now.” I point in the direction of the locker room.

His lip curls in a way that’s all too familiar. It sparks a memory from our grade-eleven law class, one of the few we had together. He always wore that infernal smile when I got up in front of the class for debates. “What is this look?” And why am I suddenly so flustered?

His eyes heat, and he runs his tongue along his top lip. “I fucking love it when you order me around.”

“Seriously. Go.” I give him my death stare.

He mouths so hot, winks, and heads for the locker room.

I turn back to Hammer. “He’s such a pain in my ass.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” she says.

“He is not.” But he sure is doing a good job of playing the jealous boyfriend and making a scene.

She arches a brow. “Why didn’t I know you dated Eric until today?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“But you stayed friends,” she says.

I shrug. “There weren’t any hard feelings about the breakup. I moved back here, and he was in LA. It was never serious.”

“You are full of surprises lately, aren’t you?”

“Sort of like you were full of surprises a few months ago, huh?” I tease.

“Yeah, falling for my dad’s best friend was a thing there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but now that you’re together, it’s kind of impossible to imagine it any other way. Roman seems to be cool with things.”

“Dad’s definitely more relaxed. I think it helps that Hollis is pretty big on doting, and my dad sees it. Hopefully now that I’m settled in my career and have found love, he will too.”

“He needs someone to take care of him for a change,” I muse.

“He does. It’s been me and hockey for the past twenty-one years, and with the backup goalie coming in more this season, he needs something else to focus on.” Hammer sighs. “I’m just glad I still get to work with the team, you know? You’re my family, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“I feel the same way.” As much as Dallas being my fake boyfriend or people thinking I want his money is inconvenient, the alternative is far worse. If people found out it was all a lie, the embarrassment would be impossible to recover from. Not to mention the way it would impact the team. Which means I need to be extra convincing when I meet his parents. Too much is hinging on people believing in the lie of us.

When the final celebrity player has been checked in, we start to make our way to the arena, but Topher Guy stops me. “Hemi, there you are. I need to talk to you.”

Because I don’t have enough going on right now. I force a smile and turn to Hammer. “You go on without me.”

“Are you sure? I can wait.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be right behind you.”

She heads down the hall, and I exhale my annoyance and give my attention to Topher. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to discuss your use of the primary rink.”

“Sure. Why don’t you walk with me? I need to check in with hospitality. Because the charity game is set to start in…” I find a clock on the wall. “Forty-five minutes. And I don’t have a lot of time right now.”

“You know, if you were a little less”—he motions toward me—“you, you’d be easier to tolerate.”

I plaster on my fakest, brightest smile. “I need to be effective so that events like these run smoothly and bring positive press to our team, which is basically my job description. Now, what’s the issue with the primary rink?” I walk briskly down the hall toward the VIP suite. I don’t have time for this kind of shit today, especially not from Topher.

“You have it booked for the next four weeks for the women’s team.”

“It’s the offseason, and there’s no reason they should use the auxiliary rink when the men’s team isn’t on the ice. We’ve been over this before, so I’m not sure why we’re discussing it again.”

“That means it’s not available for the junior boys’ summer team.”

“So they can use the auxiliary rink.”

“I promised their coach they would have the opportunity to play there, so you need to move the women’s team.”

I come to a halt, and he skids to a stop, huffing with the effort of keeping up with me. “I’m sorry, what was it you said to me last month when I inquired about using the primary rink? That it was first come, first served and maybe next time I’d have my shit together?”

“Why are you always so difficult?” He tugs at his tie. “We could have done this the nice way, Hemi. Now I’ll just have to go over your head.” He storms off in the opposite direction. I take a deep breath and shake it off. Being nice about it means giving him his way, it seems. But I stand by my position, and he was never going to be nice about it with me anyway. I guess now he’ll talk to one of the coaches and plead his case. He’s been here longer than I have, and sometimes, his seniority wins out. But I will not be the one to break this news to Denise, the women’s coach; that will be Topher’s job, if he gets his way.

I check in to make sure our VIPs are taken care of before I head back toward the arena entrance. I find Hammer and Tally waiting for me with their clipboards in hand.

“Everything okay?” Hammer asks.

“Peachy. Thanks for asking. How’s it going down here?” I look around the arena. Months of planning and this is it. It’s a sold-out game, and it’s being broadcast live. The ticket proceeds will go to two local charities, and afterward we’ll have an online auction giving fans an opportunity to bid on signed jerseys, sticks, and special items donated by the players and celebrities.

“We’re good to go. There was a minor hiccup on the second level, but we handled it. It’s going to be kickass,” she assures me.

“I love the jerseys for this,” Tally says.

“It was a lot of fun to work with the design team on them,” Hammer says.

“You know you’re full-time in charge of that now,” I tell her. Hammer has been helping the marketing team make deals with local designers so that the Terror brand stays relevant.

She nods. “I am one-hundred-percent good with that.”

Rix, Shilpa, and Dred join us in the first row behind the bench, and we settle in to enjoy the game. Normally we’re all up in a suite together. It’s nice being this close to the action.

The players take the ice one at a time, and the crowd screams and claps their approval. This game is celebrities against pro players. It’s all about fun and raising money for charity. I’m surprised when Dallas starts shit-talking and getting all worked up about the celebrities first goal, shortly after the game starts.

I knock on the glass, and he glances over his shoulder.

I give him a look.

He blows me a kiss.

But he keeps it up, scoring two goals in the first five minutes. Roman lets in two goals for the celebrity players to tie it up.

“What the hell is his deal?” I mutter. “This is supposed to be for fun.”

“Seems like maybe he’s a little jealous of your history with Eric,” Hammer whispers.

“No.” I immediately dismiss the idea.

Hammer shrugs. “He keeps stealing the puck from him.”

It would make sense if we were actually dating and he had something to be jealous of. But we’re not, and he doesn’t. “He needs to settle down.”

But he keeps up with the chippy playing and the aggressive moves on the ice, to the point that Ash blocks him from scoring another goal in the second period.

During a short break in play, the camera pans to one of the boxes, zeroing in on the last people I want to see today. “Oh for fuck’s sake, why do they have to be here?” I mutter.

“Who?” Shilpa asks.

“Brooklyn and Sean.” I shake my head.

The company he works for sponsors a box. Usually he attends with his coworkers, and I avoid him. There’s no reason to seek him out. I also fully acknowledge I shouldn’t care about him at all. But of course he’s here with my ex-best friend today. And of course they’re kissing on the damn Jumbotron for the whole arena to witness. I’m an adult, it shouldn’t matter. Except why does it feel like they’re always rubbing salt in the wound?

This is my arena, my team, my people. I’m supposed to be safe here. They’re not supposed to make me feel small when I’m in my domain, but God, they do. Sean probably doesn’t even know I exist. But every time I see Brooklyn it feels like someone has sliced into my heart all over again. Every post, comment meant to needle, works it’s way under my skin. I wish it didn’t affect me, and I hate that it still hurts. I shouldn’t even be fazed seeing them together, but they’re my shitty insecurity kryptonite. I feel tiny and pathetic, like the stupid loser of a teenage girl who sat in the parking lot during senior prom after my best friend stabbed me in the back and cried until I puked.

The same friend who told me I should’ve been different in a thousand ways: less assertive, utilized my cleavage better, only smile, but never talk in case I made someone feel inferior. She told me a hundred times if I just listened to her, maybe more guys would like me. Worse was when she’d say other girls never wanted to be my friend, so I should be grateful I had her. She was a bad friend. Especially when I look at the amazing women I’m surrounded by now. They would never make me feel like that.

Romance and broken hearts might hurt, but losing someone I thought was my best friend left the deepest cut. In this moment, I wish for a thousand things. To be different. To not be so impacted by assholes from my past. To feel like being myself is okay. That being me isn’t too much.

For a second, I feel the horrifying prick of tears behind my eyes—until a knock on the glass pulls my attention away from the Jumbotron. Dallas pulls off his gloves and makes a heart with his hands.

Ash slaps his shoulder and tells him to get his ass on the ice.

The Jumbotron catches it all.

I can’t help it; I smile. Yes, he’s a pain in my ass, but he also just reminded me people would kill to be me. Everyone thinks Dallas Bright is mine.

The players do their best to keep the puck away from Dallas during the last period, and the celebrities win the game by a single goal, which is how we always intend it to be, even if this time Dallas was single-handedly trying to make it otherwise.

At the end of the game, I lace up and take the ice, flanked by both teams, so I can thank everyone for being here. Vander Zee isn’t much for speeches. We always end the charity games with a stuffie toss, which goes to the local children’s hospital.

Just as the crowd has finished tossing the stuffed animals they brought onto the ice for the cleaners to gather in huge bag-lined bins, Dallas skates over.

I lower the mic and give him a look, which the entire arena can see. “What are you doing? Get back with the rest of your teammates.”

“I just need the mic for a sec.”

I don’t like the look on his face one bit. I try to hide the mic behind my back, but I’m on skates and not a professional player with cat-like reflexes. Dallas nabs it and settles a hand on my hip to steady me.

“Seriously, Dallas, whatever you’re thinking, you should stop now. Clowns are coming for you,” I threaten.

“Don’t worry, honey. I think you’ll like this,” he says before bringing the mic to his mouth. Sweat trickles down his cheek. His hair is wet at the temples, and his face is red with exertion. “Let’s all give the love of my life a round of applause for putting together another incredible celebrity charity game!”

The crowd goes wild.

“I didn’t do it by myself,” I mutter.

“While she’s quick to remind everyone she has a team of people helping her, I think it goes without saying that Wilhelmina is the glue behind that team. And she means the absolute world to me.” He turns around, still gripping the microphone in one hand. But I notice the other is balled into a fist.

He drops to one knee in front of me, and the entire arena sucks in a collective gasp.

It takes every ounce of restraint not to reach out and throttle him.

“Get up,” I whisper through clenched teeth and a tight smile.

This is not happening. He is not doing this in front of an entire arena. Whatever this is. At least we’re past the televised part. I hope we’re past the televised part…

“Wilhelmina Georgia Reddi-Grinst, you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You inspire me every day to be a better man, and I know I’m forever a work in progress, but I want to be your work in progress. For the rest of our lives. There is nothing in the world I want more—not even another chance to hold the Cup⁠—’

The crowd giggles, and a bunch of people cheer.

“Stop this now, Dallas. Clowns. Clowns forever,” I threaten through the most extreme smile I can plaster on my face. It’s one thing for me to lie to everyone I love about being his girlfriend, but if he’s about to do what I think he is…the lies are about to get infinitely bigger.

“Ten years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life not chasing after you. Be my person, Wilhelmina. Be my forever. Will you marry me?” He flips open the box he’s had inside his fist.

Sitting on the black velvet cushion is the most beautiful blue diamond nestled amidst a halo of white diamonds. As far as engagement rings go, this one is exceedingly gorgeous. And I am so incredibly pissed off that Dallas, of all people, is presenting me with something so out-of-this-world beautiful in front of all of these people.

Especially because none of this is real. And the hole he’s just dug for us has gotten so much deeper.

Dallas drops the mic. “Say yes, Wills. No one gets to fuck with you. We’re going to rule. You and me. Be my badass queen.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. I’m suddenly on the verge of tears. I’m angry. I’m sad. I have no idea what’s going on.

“They don’t get to win,” he whispers. “Not now. Not ever. Let’s show them how it’s really done.”

I fight back the tears and nod. However misguided, his intentions aren’t evil. Or at least they don’t seem to be.

He brings the microphone to his lips. “You gotta say the words, honey.”

I drop my hand and cement this new lie. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

His smile is radiant, and my heart feels like it’s splitting in two.

We’ll disappoint so many people when this charade ends.

His parents, my moms, our families, our friends—I’m already devastated for all of them. And most of all for me. Because the prom king just asked the nerdy girl to marry him, and it’s all a tragic farce. Echoes of pain from all those years ago surface.

He slides the rock on my finger. It fits perfectly, and it’s just so beautiful, and I’m just so angry at him. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want to marry me. It’s just another game. Another win.

“She said yes!” He pushes to his feet and hands the microphone to Flip, who’s standing beside me, mouth agape.

Dallas pushes my hair over my shoulder. I try not to react, to keep the smile plastered on my face as I speak through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill you. You know that, right? You think clowns and sauerkraut were bad, just you wait.” I want to punch that gorgeous smile right off his face.

“Can you stop giving me shit for a second so I can kiss you?”

“Wh—”

He cups my face in his palms and presses his lips to mine. I make a shocked sound and grab his wrists. His tongue pushes past my lips, not aggressively, but in the gentlest of sweeps.

My head swims, and fire rushes through my veins. It has to be shock. That’s what this is. That’s the only explanation as I fist his jersey and he tips his head. Every line of his hard body melds to mine. And it doesn’t feel close enough. His lips meet mine, so soft, and warm, and firm. Dallas’s thumb grazes the edge of my jaw as he explores my mouth with a sureness that makes my knees wobble and the most embarrassing moan tumble from my lips.

“Damn, that’s some chemistry,” Flip mutters.

The arena is cheering and screaming.

Dallas breaks the kiss—thank God, because I clearly don’t have the ability to make rational decisions. One corner of his mouth quirks up as his hot, knowing gaze meets mine. “I’m convinced.”

With those two words, my bruised heart drops to my toes. It’s all just a show.

He threads our fingers together and raises our hands in the air. “She said yes!”

I stand there, shocked beyond belief.

Dallas kissed me.

He kissed me.

And based on the way my body is reacting, that was the best kiss of my life.

This is really bad news for me.

Because he’s not just my fake boyfriend anymore; now he’s my fake fiancé.