Maybe, for once, I should stop bracing for impact and just let myself fall.
The thought is terrifying.
But as I finally head inside to say my goodbyes, I realize something else.
It’s also kind of exciting.
Chapter Twenty
Brother Knows Best
Winnie
“The Bachelor is trash, and you know it.”
My brother Jake stabs a fry into his ketchup with more aggression than necessary. “It’s not trash. It’s a cultural phenomenon.”
“It’s manufactured drama designed to exploit emotionally vulnerable people for ratings.”
“That’s what makes it good.” He grins.
I throw a napkin at him. He catches it, still grinning.
This is our thing—lunch once a month at the same diner we’ve been frequenting since he started his MBA program in the city. Greasy burgers, endless fries, and arguments about television that would make our mother roll her eyes.
Jake is two years younger than me but acts like he’s two years older. He’s got Dad’s dark hair and Mom’s stubborn streak, and he’s been trying to give me life advice since he was twelve. Most of it is terrible. Some of it, annoyingly, is not.
“Love Island is superior in every way,” Icontinue. “At least they’re honest about what they’re doing.”
“Love Island is just hot people in swimsuits making bad decisions.”
“Exactly. No pretense. No fake proposals. Just chaos.”
“You’re impossible.” He shoves three fries into his mouth at once.Classy.“So, how’s the new job? You haven’t complained about it in like two weeks, which is either really good or really bad.”
“It’s good, actually.” I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. “Really good. The guys are finally taking my sessions seriously. My metrics are improving. My boss is happy.”
“That’s great, Win.” He means it. For all his teasing, Jake’s always been my biggest supporter. “What changed?”
I hesitate. This is the part I’ve been avoiding.
“There’s this guy,” I say.
Jake’s fry freezes halfway to his mouth. “A guy.”
“It’s not—it’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated with you.” He sets the fry down, giving me his full attention. “Tell me.”
So I tell him—not everything, not the fake dating arrangement, but the broad strokes. Banks. The team’s enforcer. How he stepped in when the guys were being inappropriate. How we’ve been spending time together and how everyone miraculously backed off.
“He’s actually really sweet,” I find myself saying. “Under all the gruff exterior. He’s polite. Respectful. Maddeningly slow, actually—he hasn’ttried anything.” I laugh a little. “I practically had to drag him into my hotel room just to eat burgers and watch TV.”
I expect Jake to laugh, to make some joke about my taste in men improving. Banks is very brother-approved.
He doesn’t laugh.
“Winnie.” His voice is careful. Measured. “This guy is a professional athlete.”
