Page 100 of The Fake Out

He took the papers out of my hands. “No. I said talk to me, sis.”

“I’m still so angry with you. Now, do you understand why?” I sneered at him.

He nodded, running a tattooed hand through his short hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hired him. I thought you would have been okay with it.”

“Are you serious?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

I nodded. “He’s a good artist. So I get why you did it. Still pissed, though.”

“I’m sorry. But you’ve been in a bad mood since you and Blaise broke up, so let’s talk.”

“It wasn’t real,” I admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What wasn’t?”

“Our relationship!” I exclaimed. Why weren’t people understanding that what Blaise and I had was all a facade? The only things real were the feelings that crept into my heart. “When you hired that asshat, I saw Blaise at the desk, and I got this idea in my head that I could get back at my ex by pretending I dated that hot hockey player.”

My brother nodded. “He’s very hot.”

I glared. “Hey, you’re married.”

“But I’m not dead. Eddie and I would both fuck him. We talked about it.”

I made a face. “Can you please not sexually harass my boyfriend?”

He grinned. “I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend?”

I groaned. “He’s not. We were just doing casual until the wedding. Then when I woke up that morning, he was gone. I knew we had an expiration date, but it hurt.”

Alex glared at me. “You’re a liar.”

“What?”

He pointed a finger at me. “I saw the way you two were when I walked in on you. That didn't seem so casual to me.”

“It was. It had to be.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone leaves me. It’s better to protect myself than to have another person I care about leave me high and dry.”

My brother’s face fell, and he walked over to me and pulled me into a great big hug. I leaned into it.

“Hey, you know I’ll never abandon you, okay? You’re my baby sister, and I love you. I’m sorry I hired your dickhole of an ex. It’s not your fault, okay?”

“Then why does everyone leave me?” I cried.

Alex wiped my tears. “Oh, V, Dad died. He didn’t abandon us.”

“I’m not talking about Dad!”

He pulled back and sat down in the chair across from the desk. His elbows were on his knees, and he steepled his hands in front of his face. “Your mom… She was really sick.”

That was the first time he ever said anything about my mom. Dad refused to talk about her. It was taboo to even mention her name.

“What do you mean?” I asked.