Page 95 of The Fake Out

Dad held up a hand. “No, I want to know what happened. I should have known something was up when you didn’t show up to her art show.”

Art show? What art show?

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Dad set his coffee down and went into the living room. When he came back in, he held a painting in his hands, one that was framed and ready to be hung. It was a painting of me on the ice.

“She painted this of you,” my dad sneered at me. “So I want to know what you did to mess it up.”

“What happened?” Michael asked softly. I never told them because I knew I’d tell my brothers the truth. They had a way of getting it out of you, even when you didn’t want to.

“Nothing,” I lied. “She couldn’t handle having a boyfriend who travels so much.”

My brothers nodded in understanding, but Dad crossed his big arms across his chest. He didn't buy it. He saw through me so much because he was right; I was exactly like him.

“Can we get going? I wanna get to unpacking my house,” I tried to change the subject, looking at my brothers with a ‘help me’ look.

Dad grunted. “Take the painting with you. I bought it because you weren’t there to support her. No wonder she looked so defeated.”

That made me feel like an asshole. I never wanted to hurt her. We specifically set out for an end date because she didn’t want to get hurt. She had set the boundaries.

“You need to talk to her. You’re both miserable,” Dad said.

“How do you know she is, too?” I asked.

Dad sighed. “Because she was a wreck when I went to her art show.”

“Why did you go?” I asked. She didn’t even tell me she had an art show. I’m not sure I would have gone had I known. My heart was still too raw to see her.

Dad sighed again. “Because I knew you fucked something up if I hadn’t seen her in a while. You need to talk to your woman and fix this shit.”

He walked out of the kitchen in a huff, leaving me and my two younger brothers staring at each other in confusion.

I sighed, and we high-tailed it out of there. It was a long day of unpacking and putting everything into the house. Ayden flopped on my couch in the living room and cracked another beer while I sat on the other end and instructed our baby brother on where to hang things.

“What about this?” Michael asked and pulled out Veronica’s painting.

Why did she make a painting of me? And why did my dad buy it?

“Put it in one of the other bedrooms, so I don’t have to see it,” I grumbled and chugged some of my beer.

My brothers exchanged a look. Ayden punched me in the arm. “Dude, tell us what really happened between you two.”

Michael set the painting down and sat on the floor in front of us. He crossed his legs underneath him and took a slice of pizza from the coffee table. “Man, tell us already.”

“Fine, you assholes. It wasn’t real,” I explained.

“What wasn’t?” Ayden asked, but Michael had his face in his hands.

“Goddamnit, Blaise. Were you doing like a fake relationship thing?” Michael asked and stared daggers at me. My baby brother wasn’t one to let his anger show, so that was interesting.

I picked a piece of lint on my hoodie. “Yeah.”

“Wait…” Michael trailed off. “I totally walked in on you two, and it didn’t seem fake to me.”

I gave them a cocky grin. “Oh, there was definitely a lot of sex, and that was real. But that was it.”

Ayden looked between the two of us with a confused look on his face. “I still don’t understand.”