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Braxton sits on the opposite side of the couch and faces me, her lips twisted and legs tucked up beneath her. “Maybe I didn’t want to be swept up in the crazy of your life when you were drafted, so we kept it a secret? Who are they to know?”
I chew on that for a moment. “I don’t know if that will work. They’ll dig into your background. Your schooling over the past few years, your social media presence. One bad tweet from when you were fifteen and you’ll be the face of cancel culture.”
“Actually, cancel culture doesn’t really exist. I prefer looking at it as someone being held accountable for their past actions.”
I heave a sigh and rest my head on the couch back. “Braxton.”
“Right. Well, I don’t have much other than my Instagram and Facebook pages, but both of those are as private as possible.”
“What about while you were in university? Did you do or say anything that could come back to bite you?”Any bitter boyfriends?I leave that last part out, not sure I want to hear the answer.
Braxton’s eyes narrow on me for a brief moment before relaxing. “I went to a few parties and kissed a few boys, but that’s really it. I was too busy with my classes to make stupid decisions.”
I tighten my jaw. A few boys? “Great.”
“What about you? Anything I need to be concerned about?”
“You mean other than the fact I’m a heavy partier and an arrogant son of a bitch? No, I can’t think of anything else.”
She giggles, and the sound makes my heart skip. “Right. So, we haven’t been dating in secret. It’s new, then? A rekindled love?” She swallows as I stiffen.
“Yeah. Good enough for me,” I mutter, feeling uncomfortably awkward.
Braxton nods. “What do you need me to do as your fake girlfriend? Is it just going to be games and stuff? Because I can do that easily enough, although I haven’t been to a hockey game in years.”
“We’re about to enter the playoffs, so I’m assuming you’ll need to be there for most of the games. The award ceremony is coming up in June, and I’m up for a couple of them. You’ll probably need to be there for that too.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“How are you going to tell your family about this?” I ask, worry starting to fester.
“I don’t know. They won’t believe me if I tell them we’re suddenly dating, not after everything that’s just happened, but I can’t tell them the truth either. Dad can’t find out it’s fake.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“I’ll avoid it for as long as I can. At least until we’re seen together for the first time.”
“When is that going to happen, anyway? Dougie, that fucking asshole, didn’t tell me anything about what we’re supposed to do.”
“I think we’ve talked about enough tonight. You and Dougie clearly need to chat before we do anything else. I don’t want to mess anything up with this.”
“It wouldn’t be you that messes this up, Braxton.”
Her expression turns quizzical. “You won’t mess it up either. Sure, we might not be friends anymore, but we’re both adults. I agreed to do this, and I’m not going to go back on that. We’ll get this cleaned up, and then we can both get back to our lives.”
“Right. You’re right,” I agree.
Yet for some reason, that sounds all wrong.
10
BRAXTON
AGE SIXTEEN
With a cupof tea warming my palms, I walk into Maddox’s room and softly shut the door behind me. I stifle a laugh when I find him curled in the fetal position, just like he was when I left a few minutes ago. Tucked beneath a thick black duvet, he’s nothing but a large blob on the bed. A mess of chestnut-brown curls peeks out from beneath the blanket, though, splayed out on a matching black pillow.
The sixteen-year-old baby came down with a stomach bug last night and called me just after six this morning, begging me to bring him back to health. With his family on a weekend trip to Toronto to see friends, he’s home alone. There was supposed to be a hockey tournament starting tomorrow, but at this rate, he’s going to be spending the weekend in bed instead.
