Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 154

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“Mother,” I say sweetly, “if you drop dead mid–tantrum, I’m the one stuck paying for the funeral, so please – either calm down or aim for something quick and affordable. A stroke, maybe.”

She gasps like I slapped her, which is probably the most honest reaction I’ve gotten from her in years.

I keep going. Cold, clear.

“You want to know why I ‘ruined everything‘? Because your precious niece was too busy riding my date to show up for her own engagement party. Because the man you told me to be ‘grateful‘ for tried to put a price on me like I was a handbag. And because, frankly, I got tired of pretending this family isn’t an absolute circus.”

Silence. A sharp, wounded kind.

“Is that what you want to hear?” I ask. “That your daughter’s so difficult, so impossible, no man wants to claim her? Great. Message received. Again.”

I fold my arm tighter around me, staring out at the street like I can force the car to arrive faster.

“But here’s the thing, Mother. I’d rather be alone forever than end up like you – married, miserable, and constantly trying to claw your worth out of other women’s throats. From now on, just send me your father’s bills and I’ll take care of them. Making me feel small won’t make you more of a mother. Not like you ever tried.”

Then I hang up.

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And breathe.

For a second, it feels like silence might save me. Then a black Jeep pulls up to the curb.

I don’t look up. Cam drives a Mercedes. And I specifically told him I didn’t want-

The door swings open, and I catch it: the messy black hair, the piercing green eyes, the permanent stormcloud expression that’s been haunting me for years.

Aaron.

Of course. Of fucking course.

He stands there like he’s being forced at gunpoint, arms crossed, jaw locked, like picking me up was the worst possible punishment Cameron could’ve handed out.

This is why Cam will never be anything more than a size thirty–eight. His spite is tailored.

I lift my chin and walk toward the car with every ounce of pride I haven’t lost tonight. Aaron opens the passenger door without a word. I

climb in.

The silence stretches until it’s practically chewing on drywall.

We’re halfway down the road when he finally speaks. His voice is quiet. Careful.

“You okay?”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

If he’s asking, then he must already know the answer to that question.

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Cam, that fucking blabbermouth, must have told him. Or Theo, but well that’s unlikely.

He doesn’t respond. Just tightens his grip on the steering wheel. I glance at him sideways.

He’s still gorgeous, in that irritating, unreadable way. Pale knuckles, hoodie sleeves pushed up just far enough to show the veins in his forearms. The kind of man who looks like a heartbreak and a poem at the same time.

I sigh. “If you’re here to lecture me too, don’t bother. I’ve had a long line of critics tonight.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

Another beat of silence. Then-

“I heard what happened. With Lyle.”

I freeze. “Of course you did.”

“I just…” He hesitates. “You don’t deserve that.”

I snort. “Yeah, well. Apparently I do.”

“You don’t,” he says again. Firmer this time.

And something in me

—

raw and cracked – tips open. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been bleeding pride all night. I don’t know. But I speak.

“They were in bed together,” I say softly. “My cousin and my date. And not even a week ago he was asking what I’d want as a birthday present. Isn’t that pathetic?”

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