“So why do you need a fiancé?”
I sigh and close my laptop. This story will take up the remainder of my study time. “I have three older brothers and they have been making bets about me forever.”
His brows pinch together. “What kind of bets?”
“Let’s see...” Where to even start? “They made a bet that I couldn’t make the high school soccer team. So I did. Even though I hated it. They also made a bet that I’d never dare sneak out of the house after curfew. I did. And got grounded until prom.”
“Sounds like they love you a lot.” He says with a shake of his head.
I whirl back. “Did you not hear what I just said? They’ve been torturing me for years.”
“Name one guy who hasn’t tortured someone he loved in some way.”
I open my mouth to say my dad, but he loves to scare my mom. Which she hates. But that’s different.
“And then there’s Grant. He’s their best friend and even worse than them. He’s always in the mix, making me angry.”
Noa’s eyebrows rise and he taps the table with a fist.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he leans back. “So you want to prove to your brothers that you're more than just their entertainment?”
I bite my bottom lip. Is this completely insane? “I guess.” The idea is still so new, but this feels like the only solution to my problems.
“Well then, should we do this? Should we enter a mutually beneficial fake relationship?”
Do I dare? My brothers have so little faith in me, and it’s way past getting on my nerves. Noa is right. I want to be seen, and acknowledged by my brothers. And mostly by Grant.
“Let’s do this.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Lennox, by the way.”
Chapter 5
Grant
I shouldn’t be at work so early. Most people don’t come in at 4 am. But I couldn’t sleep.
My neighbors started a screaming match around midnight that ended with broken glass. I tried putting in my earbuds and going back to sleep, but I still woke up covered in sweat and shivering. All it took was one little thing to debilitate me back into the little boy I used to be, afraid every time my dad came home drunk.
Instead of grabbing my tools and getting ready to work, I head to the back room. It has the most space and is the coolest room in the shop. Plus, there is a pull-up bar above the door that Michael put there and forgot about. I grab my jump rope and retrieve the cinder blocks from outside the back door.
My own gym. Free and just as effective. I put in my earbuds and let the pounding music mask the world around me as I push through my reps. Sports had been my sanity in high school. I always pushed myself hard, and usually ended up playing alongside the kids a year older. Which was how I got to be good friends with Michael as well as Sean and Trent. My dad never came, which was for the best, seeing him would have just made me angry. But I was constantly angry, anyway.
At my mom for never giving us a chance, at my dad for choosing alcohol over me, and at myself for even caring. I didn’t talk to my friends about my home life, and if they suspected anything was wrong, they were kind enough to not bring it up. I spent as much time as I could in their house; I was happier there than I had ever been in mine.
I drop to the floor and pound out as many push-ups as I can without slowing.
My grandfather was my saving grace. He taught me how to carve wood, and together we made a small box. On the lid, we’d hand-carved a lion, my grandfather’s favorite symbol for bravery. Something I could only hope for. The bravest thing I’ve ever done was move out of my dad’s house when I turned eighteen.
I haven’t seen my dad since that night. He hasn’t reached out to me either.
And that’s ultimately what brings me to the shop in the middle of the night to do pull-ups until my arms shake.
I finish just before six. The guys will show up for work soon, so I need to hurry and clean up. Luckily, there’s a shower in the employee bathroom.
I hurry inside and turn on the water. Mark Bentley has talked about getting rid of the shower to make a nicer bathroom, but he wouldn’t consider it if he knew how often I have to come here to get warm water. I don’t always get that luxury at my apartment.
I stand under the hot stream for longer than I planned and by the time I get out, it’s six on the dot.
