Guilt pierces my heart. I might be angry with him. I might resent him, but I don’t want him to suffer, and I don’t want him to be treated improperly. He’s sick. Terribly sick. He needs real care.
“Make the call.”
“Okay,” she says quietly. “I love you, Biggie.”
Biggie. The nickname my little sisters gave me when I was young and had to take care of them day and night. I wasn’t Mom, but I was their big sister, and that meant something when I was who they started to lean on.
“Love you more, Smalls.”
When we hang up, I have a new notification. A direct message onInstagram.
PSweets:Want to come by before the game? Have a glass of wine or a cup of coffee and get ready? I have a Facetime date with my best friend, Avery. She’s dying to meet you.
That sounds…like an interview.
DollyPop88:Yes, please. What the fuck does one even wear to a hockey game that their fake boyfriend is playing in?
PSweets:LOL! I’d say a shirt with his face on it, but Forker might get a boner seeing himself in the stands. Here’s my number. Text me. We can discuss outfits.
I text the number she gave me, just saying a simple hello.
Penny
I think this means we’re real-life friends now, even if this whole fake-relationship thing doesn’t work out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
arden
“Breathe.”
I glance to my side and nod rigidly. I’m not a person who spooks easily. I can stitch up an irate patient, tend to head wounds, and look at the gnarliest of injuries without batting an eye, butthis?This is terrifying.
Walking into a hockey game with WAG royalty by my side, into the lion’s den full of other,realpartners who I will have to lie to—thisis scary. Thankfully, Penny gave me the run-down of who to avoid and who we like. She’s still considered ‘new’ herself, though the internet adores her.
Penny dressed me tonight. Simple, but a bit fancier than I’d typically dress for a sporting event. Jeans and a white top with an oversized leather jacket tossed over it. It’s hers. It somehow still looks good on me despite Penny being ten heads taller than me. She didn’t blink before offering to let me wear it.
Penny is in black jeans with a yellow top that shows a tiny bit of her midriff. She’s also repping the coolest bomber jacket I’ve ever seen, topping the fit off with a Pittsburgh ballcap on that honey-coloured hair.
She guides us to our seats, which are closer than I expected. Did you know that the players’ partners don’t actually get a box? I always assumed that they did. But no. Penny said that’s a myth, although some will buy one for a season and let the other girls use it. That’s typically for the WAGs with big families who have to come here to watch their dads.
Penny lifts her hand and smiles as we shuffle down the aisle. “Hi, Shay.”
“Penny!” A beautiful girl with long brown hair hugs Penny, eyes zeroing in on me over her shoulder. “Who is this?”
Penny steps aside to introduce me. “Shay, this is Arden. Forker’s girlfriend.”
Shay’s eyes grow ten sizes. “Forker?”
I force a tight smile. Shay was on the nice list. We like her.
Breathe,Arden.
“Hi.” I wave.
Her dark eyes snap to Penny, who breathes out a laugh and shrugs, like she can’t believe it either. This girl is a ride or die, putting on the performance of a century for me and Carter, and our sham of a relationship.
“How did you lock him down?” Shay asks, ignoring Penny as she shuffles down the row to say hello to the four other women who are also in attendance. Realization washes over her. “Oh my god, you’re the woman he threw those punches for!”
