It shouldn’t be.
There are so many questions, and not enough answers.
There’s a messy past between us, and a path forward neither of us ever saw coming.
I don’t know if it’s her rebellious streak or my go-with-the-flow demeanor, but I’m suddenly filled with confidence.
You’ve got to commit to the bit, right?
Nothing about this situation is remotely funny, especially not when coupled with the stern expression on Coach’s face, but the way Fallon’s hand feels against mine, tells me I’m all in.
To her credit, Val Grimm rolls on like this is a totally normal situation.
“Okay, so what we need to do is control the narrative. Please tell me you’ve known each other for longer than twenty-four hours?”
“Two years,” I say, signing as I speak. “Fallon and I met back when her brother was on the team. She visited a couple times.”
Ms. Grim’s eyes go wide, like this is the best news she’s heard since her phone blew up a couple hours ago. “That’s perfect—it’s part brother’s best friend, part friends to lovers.”
“More like enemies to lovers,” Mickey mutters under his breath, earning him an elbow to the ribs from JT.
“All right, so we’re spinning a classic love story. You’ve been close for ages and got swept up in the Vegas vibe, and celebrating her birthday, and decided to take the plunge. You’ve already captured the attention of the public,” she says, waving her phone in her hand, “so I want you to keep that momentum up. You’re not going on full blast or anything, but your socials will include each other and no matter what, you’ll project the image of a happy couple. Any fights or disagreements you have, you keep those out of the public eye. Am I clear?”
Fallon and I nod, like we’re kids in a theater class who’ve been given the lead roles in a big production, but this isn’t a play. It’s real life.
That truth is made evident when there’s another loud knock on the door. Mick pops up and turns the knob.
Booker Zabek stands in the doorway. He’s known for being quiet and controlled, logical and methodical. But right now, he looks like he wants to methodically tear my body apart, limb by fucking limb.
“What the hell, Ollie?” he asks, and that’s a sure sign shit is serious, because Booker doesn’t swear, ever.
Before I can open my lips to attempt a response, he starts talking again. “We’ve been through this dozens of times. You know my sister is off-limits. Every single time you made a comment about her or tried to invite yourself to a family dinner, I told you to keep dreaming.Then I wake up to a million texts and screenshots ofthe two of you at a wedding chapel? What part of ‘don’t date my sister’ did you not comprehend?”
I feel Fallon tense next to me, but every muscle in my body is relaxed. With an easy smile and the cocky swagger that’s pissed off more than one opponent on the ice, I face my friend head-on. “You said I couldn’t date your sister. You never said I couldn’t marry her.”
22
Fallon
We had to drive a few miles out of the city, but the diner my brother found is charming with its black-and-white tile and red vinyl booths. Even better, it’s not too crowded. There are some families who’ve clearly just come from church, and a few truck drivers at the counter, but no one is paying any attention to the two of us, and that’s just the way I like it.
Especially after the circus in my hotel room.
I’m studying the menu like there’s going to be a final exam on its contents, when Booker taps my hand.
What is going on?he asks.
When it’s just the two of us, we sign without speaking. It’s easier and faster because ASL and English aren’t perfect matches. ASL is its own language, complete with grammar rules, so speaking just to clue in the hearing folks can be a chore.
It occurs to me that Ollie does the same thing, and I’ve never stopped to think too deeply about it.
My brother is waiting for an answer, so I give him one,even though I know he won’t like it.I’m looking at the menu. I hate when there are a million choices. It all looks so good.
Booker rolls his eyes in frustration, but after the hissy fit he threw in my hotel room less than an hour ago, I think he deserves a little bit of my attitude.
You’re getting waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, because that’s what you always get at places like this. You’ll order bacon on the side, but I’ll steal most of it. I know how breakfast is going to go, Fallon. What I don’t know is how in heck you ended up married to Ollie?
Shutting my menu, because dammit, he’s right, I don’t hesitate to answer.Because I’m a grown up who can make my own decisions.
