Her Hockey Superstar Fake Fiancé: A Strong Family Romance Companion Novel

by Cami Checketts

  Had she lied about her and Blaine’s relationship like Tracy had alluded to? Had she lied about the letter Blaine left for her? He’d never actually read the letter. She’d pulled a letter out of her purse and then put it back in. What if it was all a farce, and the Dear John he’d gotten ten years ago had been from Faith? Could the woman he adored be manipulating him?

  No! There had to be some other explanation. They loved each other. They were finally going to be together. Yet the horror of his awful thoughts and suspicions struck deep into his heart and gouged out any happiness he’d thought he would have with her.

  As Jag finally made it out of the lodge half an hour later, he saw Gavin Strong on the steps.

  “Merry Christmas.” Gavin looked more animated than normal. “Thanks for the extra presents and signing that stick for Austin. You should’ve seen his face.”

  “I’m glad he liked it.” Jag wanted to simply chat with an old friend, but he found he needed some confirmation. “You knew Blaine and Faith when they were together?”

  Gavin faltered, leaning back. “Well, yeah. It’s a small valley, Faith works for me, and they both went to our church.”

  “Did you think they were desperately in love?”

  Gavin glanced away, obviously uneasy. He splayed his hands. “Hey, man, that’s really not my business.”

  “But you did?” Jag pushed.

  Gavin lifted his shoulders and met his gaze. The serious look in his dark eyes returned. “They seemed like a happy couple.”

  Jag’s stomach pitched again. That was more information than Tracy gushing about how they couldn’t keep their hands or eyes off each other. Gavin would never inflate anything. If they’d seemed happy to him, they must’ve seemed desperately in love to everyone else. Jag’s jealousy reared anew, but especially because Faith had told him time and again how she’d never loved Blaine. Why would she lie about that? It made him doubt everything about their relationship now, and that was more sickening than the world knowing about his multiple sclerosis.

  Chapter Eleven

  Faith enjoyed the craziness of a Christmas morning with all of her rambunctious younger siblings. She’d spent the night at her parents’ house, sleeping on mattresses pulled from all the beds that they shoved into the big living room in the basement. She stayed up late talking with her sister, Jaleen, about married life and all things Jag.

  She could hardly wait to see him again, but it was good they’d given each of their families their time this morning. While she wanted to just be close to Jag at all times, she still wasn’t sure how she could commit to flying to Boston with him tomorrow, leaving the spa and all her clients in a lurch, and maybe moving to Boston after they got married. His season could stretch until almost June. Could either of them stand to wait that long to get married? If they married during the season, she’d have to plan on sharing him with his team and his busy schedule, and she’d be alone in a big city while trying to find a job, friends, and her own spot with his regular church congregation. That all terrified her. Yet part of her was excited about the adventure of it all, especially being with Jag.

  The doorbell rang as they were cleaning up breakfast. Faith’s heart leapt. Was Jag already here? Three of her brothers fought their way across the room to open it. Brandon pushed Taft out of the way at the last minute, dodged in front of Isaac, and yanked it open. Her parents’ main level was a large open area for the kitchen and living room, so she could see who was there from the kitchen sink.

  The open door revealed the handsome face and perfect body she’d been hoping for. “Jag!” She started his direction, but her steps faltered as she saw the frown on his face. His blue eyes looked stormy and cloudy. “Jag?”

  He glanced around at her family and forced a smile. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Can I steal Faith for a few minutes?”

  A few minutes? She wanted him to steal her for life.

  “Sure.” Her mom gave him a big smile.

  Faith walked on stiff legs toward the front door. She didn’t even grab a coat, and she faltered again when Jag didn’t hug her or even put his hand on her lower back. He held the door for her, waited while she walked through, then stepped out onto the shelter of the front porch. It was snowing, not hard, just beautiful, big white flakes. The house had been extra warm, so she wasn’t immediately chilled by the cold, but she knew she would be soon.

  “I should get my coat,” she murmured, glancing up at Jag, looking for some indication that everything was all right. What could’ve happened? Jaleen had told her there’d been some online articles about the two of them being engaged that hadn’t been too flattering to Faith, but she didn’t think that would bother Jag. Something was bothering him.

  “Take mine,” he grunted. He slid out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Faith was embraced by the warmth of his too-large coat as she slid her sleeves in. “Thanks.” It smelled delicious, like him.

  He looked down at her as if trying to decide how to proceed. “I have to fly back to Boston now,” he said.

  “Right now?” She shivered despite the coat. “Why?”

  He looked out across the snow-covered yard. “My agent got word that the story about my multiple sclerosis is going to be released tonight.”

  “Oh, Jag.” She felt sick to her stomach. She tried to put her hand on his arm, but the coat sleeve was hanging past her hand, so she awkwardly rested the coat sleeve on his arm. She pulled it back and wished she could wrap her arms around him, but he looked too upset. Which was crazy. If he was so upset, why wouldn’t he want her to hug him, comfort him? Something in his eyes and his demeanor told her to tread cautiously.

  He focused in on her. “Sheryl somehow found out.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She couldn’t believe it. “That woman is like the plague. How could she have found out?”

  Jag kept looking around at the yard, as if something in the trees or the snow held the answers. Faith moved in closer, and his eyes darted to her, then away again. Finally, he muttered, “Apparently, she overheard you telling a friend.”

  Faith’s stomach contracted and her heart slowed in its rhythm. She didn’t care that Sheryl had accused her. She barely knew the woman, but she wouldn’t put anything past her. She did care that Jag seemed to buy the lie. “And you believed that I would share your secret with anyone?”

  Jag focused on her again. “I don’t know what to believe. It’s all messed up. How else would she find out? Only you, my family, my agent, and the doctors know.”

  “Maybe one of them told a friend, but I didn’t.” Her voice was as icy and as raw as the icicles hanging from the porch.

  Jag jammed a hand through his hair and then folded his arms across his chest. “I know Sheryl has it in for me, but my agent checked. She overheard you, Faith.”

  Faith was so shocked she could barely comprehend what Jag was accusing her of. Flapping her jaw to some friend in a public place where that slimy reporter would overhear it and broadcast it to the world? She would never do that to Jag. “I already told you I didn’t share anything with any friend. Why can’t you believe me?” Faith was getting more upset by the second.

  His jaw worked, but he didn’t reply.

  “You know what?” Anger and despair overtook her. Ten long years she’d longed for him, and now he’d let them blow apart because of a lying witch? She couldn’t imagine how upset he was that his disease would be revealed to the public, but that didn’t justify accusing her. “It doesn’t matter, Jag. Go to Boston. Work things out with your coach. I’m really sorry that your secret is out, and I’m really sorry you’d believe Sheryl over me.” She slid out of his coat, dropped it on the porch, and said, “I’m out.” Turning, she wanted to just escape inside the house, go hide somewhere, and have a good cry.

  “You were never planning to come with me to Boston, were you?” Jag’s voice stopped her from behind.

  Faith whirled on him. “You want me to come … now?”

 
Jag shook his head shortly. “It hit me this morning what a sappy sucker I am. Anything you say, I believe, and I wait like a puppy dog for you to give a treat to.”

  “Excuse me?” She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself for warmth and protection from his cold words.

  Jag’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think you ever intended to come to Boston with me, to marry me. Was this all just fun for you? The superstar shows back up in town, and you think you’ll get some good make-outs in, have your fun, and then wave to him as he leaves again.”

  “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t just play you.”

  Jag moved in closer. He towered over her. “Like you didn’t play me ten years ago? Like you didn’t play Blaine? Did Blaine really rewrite our letters? Did he even leave a letter for you on his death day? Was your relationship really one-sided, or did you love Blaine as desperately as he loved you?”

  Faith’s heart was thumping so hard and fast she could hardly catch a breath. “How dare you?” she asked, panting for air. “You honestly think I lied about everything?”

  He stepped back, confusion and uncertainty warring in his gaze. “I don’t know. The Faith I knew and loved would never lie, but I don’t know what’s going on. It’s all imploding.” He threw his hands in the air. “Everything is falling apart around me. I can hardly think straight, and then people keep telling me how desperately in love you and Blaine were.”

  Faith stared at him. Who would’ve said that? She could see how that would make him doubt her word, as she’d told him they hadn’t had a good relationship, but why wouldn’t he believe her?

  He hung his head, and his voice dropped and became almost gravelly. “I’ve loved you so long. I can’t even comprehend that you wouldn’t love me as deeply.”

  Faith’s heart leapt at his last words, but if he couldn’t trust her or trust how deeply she loved him, they had no kind of relationship. Her marriage to Blaine had been a farce. She couldn’t handle a relationship with Jag if it wasn’t built on trust.

  Jag stared at her for several long seconds. His blue eyes full of sorrow and confusion. “I’ve got to go.” He didn’t promise he’d come back, or they’d try to work it out, or he was sorry for accusing her of lying. He simply swept his coat up and stalked away, his broad muscular back rigid and unforgiving. He climbed into the Audi sport utility, slid his glasses on, started the car, and drove away.

  Faith sank onto her knees on the cold porch. She thought she’d found the love of her life again, but she’d been wrong. All she’d found was more heartbreak.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jag was unsettled and nauseated as he shook hands with his coaches and the owner’s representative, a lawyer, and sank into the plush conference chair. Today had been one of the worst of his life. He could only compare it to the day he’d gotten the letter from Faith writing him off and the day he’d heard Faith and Blaine were married.

  He loved hockey and wanted to keep playing, but accusing Faith like he had, seeing the pain in her deep brown eyes, and then walking away was tearing him apart. If he couldn’t play hockey, he’d survive. If he couldn’t be with Faith, he was certain he’d become a shriveled, weak, angry man, even without the multiple sclerosis. Yet he was still hanging on to his anger, doubt, fear, frustration, and pride. What was it going to take to let it go?

  “Mike informed us about the multiple sclerosis,” Coach Hurley started without preamble.

  Jag’s gut clenched, but he kept his shoulders straight and nodded. “The doctors found it after the Islanders game.”

  The owner’s representative, Mr. Truman, leaned forward. “Were you going to share the information before we signed a new contract?”

  Mike gave him a warning glance, but Jag was way past hiding this. “No, sir, I wasn’t.”

  Coach Gunnell’s eyebrows shot up. “Why not, Jag?”

  Jag looked at each of the three coaches in turn. These were men he respected, and he’d played his guts out for them. “I want to play hockey. I was afraid that if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t re-sign me.”

  They all acknowledged this with either a nod, a shrug, or a compassionate look.

  “Jag,” Coach Weatherby said, “we want you to play hockey. I wish you would’ve come to us the minute you knew.”

  “Me too.” Jag was miserable and humiliated; at the same time, he was glad it was out and he could just deal with it. He’d hated hiding this. “Honestly, Coach, I believe that I can still perform at top level for you. The issue with the Islanders game was only a bad case of the flu. That was when the doctor discovered the multiple sclerosis. Would there be any chance we could look at an altered contract?”

  “Altered how?” Mr. Truman asked.

  Jag looked to Mike. His agent didn’t look thrilled, but he gave an encouraging nod. Jag went forward with some of the ideas he had. “Maybe take it year by year, or add a clause that if my specialist says it’s time to be done, I’m done, and I repay the salary I didn’t earn, or a clause that if the coaches are all in agreement that I’m not performing well, I’d be done. I’m happy to look at whatever options; I really just want to play.” He’d made plenty of money, over fifteen million a year for the past five years, and he’d been able to pay off his condo in downtown Boston, a home in Boca Rotan, Florida, and invest an incredible amount of excess. It wasn’t about the money.

  The coaches were all looking at each other. Mr. Truman spoke first. “I think Mr. Jacobs would look at any of those options. He’s instructed me to keep you if at all possible with your health.”

  Jag’s breath came out in a whoosh. The lawyer didn’t give off warm vibes, but Jag was tempted to hug him. “Thank you, sir.” He looked to the coaches as well.

  Coaches Gunnell and Weatherby were both nodding. “We’d be okay with that,” Gunnell said, speaking for both of them. They swung to look at Hurley. “What do you think, Bob?”

  Hurley appraised Jag. “You think you can still give me a hundred percent?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  His head coach stood and extended his hand. Jag stood as well, shaking it. Coach Hurley held on and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Next time, you come to us immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Coach Hurley released his hand and headed for the door. “I’m going back to my grandbabies. See you at practice tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  Mike and Mr. Truman were talking quietly off to the side. They’d work out all the details, but Jag trusted Mike and was relieved with how this had all gone.

  The other men shook Jag’s hand, Coach Weatherby expressing his condolences that Jag had gotten the disease.

  “It’s a slow-progressing disease,” Jag reassured him. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to stay strong.”

  “I know you will.” Coach Weatherby thumped him on the shoulder.

  Once the others had filed out, Jag turned to Mike.

  Mike lifted his hands and shoulders. “Well, you just made more work for me with negotiating an interesting contract, and probably lost me some money …” He grinned. “But you’ll keep playing. That went as well as could be expected.”

  “I think so too.”

  Mike patted Jag’s arm and headed for the door. “I’m getting back to my Christmas celebration too. Met a beautiful blonde a few weeks ago.” He winked. “Did your family stay in Colorado?”

  Jag nodded. “They’ll be here on the twenty-seventh.”

  “Okay, get some rest.”

  Jag walked slowly out of the conference room, down the hall, and took the elevator down with Mike. They left the TD Garden arena together. Jag was relieved and excited that he could continue to play, but he also felt very alone. That was crazy. His parents lived in Newport, Rhode Island, and Mason and Brielle lived in Atlanta, so he never had anyone living with him, but tonight he hated the thought of going back to his condo by himself.

  If only Faith did love him as much as he loved her. He felt awful that
he’d accused her of sharing his illness with a friend, but even more so that he’d said she’d lied about Blaine. Maybe she and Blaine had been ecstatically in love and she’d skewed that vision because she knew it would hurt Jag. He didn’t want to picture them in love, but he didn’t want Faith to be unhappy either—far from it. He wished her every happiness; he just selfishly wanted her to be happy with him.

  It had killed him, though, when he’d said that he loved her and that it hurt that she didn’t love him the same, and she hadn’t even responded. He supposed she’d been right when she’d said a few days ago that there was too much garbage between them. He still loved her so much it hurt, but he didn’t know how to act on that love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Faith made it through Christmas only by hiding away from her family in the bathroom and breaking down a few times. She had the day after Christmas off from work, and she had no clue what to do with herself. Luckily, a couple of her younger siblings talked her into taking them snow-skiing at the resort. They had a great day together in the fresh powder, and she was grateful that it helped her burn another day without Jag. That night, she stayed at her parents again. She’d never loved being alone in the house she’d shared with Blaine, and she couldn’t stand going there now.

  On the twenty-seventh, she woke early. Stretching, she picked up her phone and noticed a text. As she clicked on it and realized it was from Jag, her heart walloped against her chest. It was a picture of him, obviously taken during a game, as someone shoved him into the wall. His gloved hands were both pressed against the glass, and his gaze was sad, longing for something. Faith swallowed hard, staring at the picture for a long time. Did it mean what she hoped it meant? It brought to mind their old tradition of gloves on the glass, saying that nothing would come between them. Yet he hadn’t sent her a loving note, asked her to come to him again, or told her he’d come to her.