Page 49 of Scoring Chance

“You can count. Great. Maybe you can explain to Dean that dinner guests don’t usually bring magic tricks to the table.”

Tanner shoves my stick into my hand, panic sliding onto his face. “So we’ll be hosting your boss, who will be deciding your job, and your coworker, who is actively trying to expose us.”

“Party time. Excellent,” I deadpan.

“Well, today my postman congratulated me on my marriage. Apparently, he’s friends with Cal and Russ, who’ve been letting it slip about us. And I can’t tell them to keep quiet because then they’ll ask why, which will just lead to more lying. I don’t even know how many people know at this point.”

We both stare at each other for a second, then simultaneously groan.

“Want to work out our rage by destroying some hockey pucks?” Tanner offers.

“God, yes.”

We join our teammates on the ice and immediately swoop up the puck.

“Hey, we’re about to do some drills,” Bill says.

“We gotta work out some life rage for a few minutes,” I tell him.

Tanner and I pass the puck between us for a while, no real form or finesse. Just fast motion and clean slaps of rubber on ice.

“You know,” Tanner said between breaths, “if you’d told me a month ago I’d be fake-married and doing line drills with you to cope with anxiety…”

“You would’ve what?”

He laughs. Even when upset, his laughter is pure and clean. “I probably would’ve believed you. But I wouldn’t have believed I was enjoying it.”

I send the puck flying into the net with a satisfying thwack.

“Yeah,” I admit. “Same.”

We pass the puck a few more times, our movements syncing up almost unconsciously. It reminds me of high school—those post-practice moments when it was just the two of us on the ice, sending the puck back and forth until the janitor kicked us out.

“Hey, save some for the rest of us,” Griffin says. He and Hank join us on the ice.

“Are you guys ready to drill?” Bill asks. As the captain, he runs a tight ship.

“Sorry. We had to get out some bullshit coursing through our systems.” I pass the puck to Bill.

“We may be in too deep with our lie,” Tanner says. “Maybe it’s time to come clean. I hate lying.”

I can’t let that happen. I’d lose my promotion, probably my job, too. My career would be over. But the fear that bubbles up more than those is somehow losing Tanner in all this. Like if this ruse collapsed, would our friendship recover?

“We’re not confessing,” I say with renewed dedication. “Look, we just have to get through one dinner. Stan will make his decision by December, and you should have a new job by then. We’ll be in the clear before we know it.”

“But what about if you do get this promotion? You’re going to have to pretend we’re married for a long time.”

Why don’t I hate the sound of that?

“We’ll figure it out.” I hit his helmet, reminding him to keep his head in the game.

“We’ll help you, too,” Hank says. “Wherever you need. We got your backs.”

“Hank’s right,” says Griffin. “You’ve already started this crazy idea. You have to keep going.”

“I will tell my brother and brother-in-law to shut up,” Derek says. “Lovingly. I’ll tell them that you guys want to share the news on your own timeline, for the sake of the kids.”

“Thank you.” Tanner makes prayer hands and aims them at Derek.