Page 13 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Chapter Thirteen

Taylor

I was settling in for a quiet afternoon when a knock at the door shattered my peace. Peering through the peephole, my heart sank. Travis. Again. I thought about pretending I wasn’t home, but knowing Travis, he’d probably camp out on my doorstep all day.

With a deep sigh, I cracked the door.

“What do you want, Travis?”

The look in his eyes made me wary.

“Taylor, please,” he pleaded, his voice a mix of desperation and that infuriating self-assurance I once found charming. “Just give me five minutes.”

I hesitated, then, against my better judgment, I let him in.

He stood in my living room, looking annoyingly good in the way he always did, even when he was being a complete ass. I crossed my arms, creating a barrier between us. “Five minutes, Travis. That’s all you get.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I used to find endearing. Now, it just seemed calculated.

“Taylor,” he began, his eyes locked on mine, “I’ve changed. I’ve been through rehab. I’m clean now. The drugs... that’s all behind me.”

I felt a familiar tightness in my chest.

I didn’t even know about the drugs until that fateful night at the office. I wonder how long he had been using it. How many promises had he made and broken?

“That’s great, Travis,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

He stepped closer, and I caught a whiff of his cologne. It brought back a flood of memories - both good and bad.

“So, what do you say? Us. Again. The drug problem was the deal-breaker, right? Well, it’s gone now.”

As he spoke, something crystallized inside me. The drugs weren’t the only factor. It never had been. It was the lying, the broken promises, the way he always put himself first.

“Travis,” I said softly, “I’m glad you’re doing better. But we’re not getting back together.”

His face fell, then hardened. The charm disappeared, replaced by a cool arrogance I recognized too well. “Do you think the guy next door is serious about you? You are an off-season pastime,” he said with a smirk.

I didn’t want to believe what he said, but his words still stung.

My fists clenched as I snapped, “What does that have to do with us getting back together?”

“Ah, you need time to think about it. I get it. I’ll come back in a few days for your answer.”

Before I could protest, he was gone, leaving me feeling drained and conflicted. The silence in the house was suddenly oppressive. I needed air.

I grabbed my keys and headed into town, finding myself at the local café. As I nursed my latte, lost in thought, a familiar voice cut through my reverie.

“Taylor? Taylor Miller, is that you?”

I saw Amelia Horton, my former high school best friend, smiling warmly at me. Her expression was just as genuine and welcoming as I remembered our school days.

“Amelia! Hi!” I responded, genuinely relieved by the interruption. I stood to hug her, realizing it had been years since we’d last seen each other or even spoken.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, reaching for a chair.

“Please do,” I replied sincerely. After everything that had happened, I was truly grateful to see a friendly, familiar face.

We fell into simple conversation, catching up on years of lost time. Amelia had become a successful hospitality manager, while I filled her in on my job as a physical therapist at Fredrickson’s Therapy.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Amelia asked, stirring her cappuccino.

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. “It’s... complicated,” I admitted.

Something in my expression must have given me away, because Amelia’s brow furrowed with concern. “Taylor, is everything okay? You seem... torn about something.”

I sighed, debating how much to share.

“My ex-fiancé is in town,” I began.

Then I poured out the entire story - the broken engagement, my leave of absence from work, his sudden appearance in Coleman asking for us to get back together while intentionally leaving out any mention of his drug addiction.

Amelia listened attentively, her face a mix of sympathy and concern. When I finished, she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Oh, Taylor. That sounds incredibly difficult. But you know what? I think you need a break from all this drama.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on me.

“You know...” A grin spread across her face as if she’d just solved a puzzle. “Our resort has the most incredible sunsets. The kind that makes you forget everything else exists.” She clasped her hands together. “Why don’t you come stay for a week? My treat.”

I must have looked hesitant because she quickly added, “I’m running the place now, honestly?” Her voice softened. “The way your shoulders are practically touching your ears? You look like someone who needs to watch a few sunsets.”

The gentle concern in her eyes made my carefully constructed walls waver, just a little. “I don’t know, Amelia. I have a lot to deal with, and-”

“And nothing,” she interrupted with a grin. “When was the last time you took a proper vacation? Come on, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.”

As I was about to respond, the café door burst open.

The quiet atmosphere shattered as Ellie entered, trailing chaos in her wake. Camera flashes strobed the room while reporters jostled each other, their questions blending into an incomprehensible roar. She glided through it all with practiced ease, her swimwear model’s poise on full display.

My coffee cup clinked against its saucer as my hands trembled. Ellie’s path brought her closer, her perfume cutting through the air between us. She offered Amelia a practiced smile and slight nod, but her eyes skated over me as if I were part of the café‘s furniture. As she passed, my space seemed to shrink, leaving me hunched over the table, suddenly aware of every imperfection in my casual outfit and makeup-free face.

Amelia’s eyes widened as she watched Ellie reach the counter. “Wow, I can’t believe Ellie Parsons is here,” she whispered, leaning in close. “Do you know her, Taylor?”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. “Know her? Not really. I mean, I know who she is, of course.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “There’s a story there. Spill.”

I hesitated, then decided I might as well tell her. “Remember Van? From high school?”

Amelia’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Van Willis? The guy you had a massive crush on? Hunter’s best friend?”

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “That’s the one. Well, Ellie... she’s his ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Amelia said, realization dawning on her face. “And let me guess, those old feelings for Van never really disappeared?”

I sighed, staring into my coffee. “Is it that obvious?”

Amelia laughed softly. “Only to someone who remembers how you used to look at him in high school. So, what’s the deal now? Are you and Van...?”

“Not really,” I exclaimed. “We’re just friends. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“You keep saying that,” Amelia observed. “Sounds like you need that getaway. Clear your head, figure out what you want.”

As we continued to chat, I warmed to the idea of a vacation. Maybe some distance would help me sort out my feelings about Van, deal with the Travis situation, and figure out what I wanted.

“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll do it. I’ll come to the resort.”

Amelia clapped her hands together, beaming. “Excellent! You won’t regret it, Taylor. We’ll have a great time, and you can relax and recharge.”

As we planned my visit, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. A week away from everything—Travis, Ellie, and all the complications with Van—felt exactly what I needed.

***

Steam rose from the pot as I stirred the pasta, the kitchen windows fogged with the hearty aroma of garlic and herbs. The familiar sound of Hunter’s key in the lock made me glance up just as he stepped inside.

“Smells good, sis,” he said, wrapping me in one of his brief but tight hugs. The normalcy of our weekly dinner routine felt like a lifeline.

As we settled into our meal, the words tumbled out—my unexpected reunion with Amelia, her offer of sanctuary disguised as a vacation invitation.

Hunter kept his eyes on me as he ate, methodically twirling pasta onto his fork. His expression was thoughtful, and attentive, letting me speak without interruption. I could tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he was carefully considering each word I said, even as he continued to take measured bites of his dinner. The silence between my sentences was filled only with the quiet sound of his fork against the plate.

“I think I’m going to accept,” I said finally, watching the pasta twist around my fork without seeing it. My voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Maybe when I come back, the dust will have settled. Ellie... Travis... they’ll have moved on to their next drama.” The hope in my voice sounded fragile even to my ears.

His fork clattered against his plate. “You can’t just run away. You need to talk to Van.”

I shook my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I can’t, Hunter. Not yet. I need time to think and sort out my feelings. Promise me you won’t tell him until I’m gone.”

My brother’s face was a mask of concern. “I really think you should stay and talk to him first. You know how he feels about you, right?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sometimes I think maybe he feels the same way, but then Ellie shows up, and... I just don’t know anymore.”

Hunter sighed, pushing his plate away. “You can’t keep running from this. Van’s my best friend, and you’re my sister. I hate seeing you both dance around each other like this.”

“Please,” I pleaded. “I need this. While I’m away, I promise I’ll figure things out. I’ll talk to Van when I get back, I promise.”

He studied me for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded. “Alright. I won’t say anything to Van. But promise me you’ll think about what you want while you’re gone. No more hiding from your feelings, okay?”

“I promise,” I said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Hunter.”

As I cleared the plates, I felt relief and apprehension. I was running away; I knew that. But right now, it felt like my only option. I needed space to think, to figure out what I wanted.

Pretending to be in a relationship with Van was exhausting.

The situation was complicated because, in my mind, the relationship was real. To make matters worse, Hunter also believed our relationship was real. This discrepancy between the fake reality, my true feelings, and Hunter’s misunderstanding made the whole charade particularly draining.

Later that night, as I packed my bag for the trip, my phone buzzed with a text from Van.

‘Hey, want to grab coffee tomorrow?’

I stared at the message, my heart racing. Part of me wanted to say yes, to see him one last time before I left. But I knew I might lose my nerve about going if I did.

With a heavy sigh, I typed out a reply.

‘Sorry, I can’t make it tomorrow. I’ve got some things I need to take care of. I’ll let you know when my schedule opens up.’

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. As I hit send, I felt a pang of guilt. But I pushed it aside, focusing on folding my clothes and packing my suitcase.

Tomorrow, I’ll be on my way to Amelia’s resort. A week away from everything - from Travis’ appearance, Ellie’s intimidating presence, and the complicated dance Van and I had been doing for years.

I have a week to figure out what I want and to find the courage to pursue it.

As I zipped up my suitcase, I took a deep breath. This trip could change everything. I just hoped I was ready for whatever came next.