Page 14

Wild

It's official, I'm engaged. It's fake, but it's Evie. My head takes this seriously, no matter the 'fake' reminders Evie seems determined to put out.

Evie is avoiding me.

I'm not going to call her out on it. Protecting her while keeping to the lines she has drawn is a balancing act I'm familiar with. She can have all the time she needs. I will just sit here and relive Evie standing up for me to Mrs. Langford.

She defended me.

My phone rings. I glance at the screen. Mom. I look towards the house and Evie. She can't avoid me forever. We're fake fiancés now.

Fake fiancés who need to get their stories straight. My mom can't find out. She loves Evie and will be disappointed by the charade.

"Mom," I greet. "How's the most beautiful human in the world?"

I hear her eye roll. "Beautiful? I can put up better-looking people in my place. Take yourself, for instance, and the subject of my call. How's Evie?"

Her worry comes clear and true, the complete opposite of Mrs. Langford. This is what I want for Evie. She deserves more than anyone to be surrounded by love. "Let me see if she wants to talk?"

Evie is on her couch, staring at a blank television screen. She does not look happy to be fake engaged.

Moving to block her view of the blank television, I point at my phone and mouth, ‘ Mom ’ .

An instant change comes over her. It's like watching an actress slide into character. It would have been scary if it didn't warm my heart. Mom and Evie love each other, and all is right in my world.

I leave them to talk and go to the kitchen. I swear I heard Evie make mention of an old pizza. There.

I've wolfed down the pizza when Evie returns with my phone. Her eyes are downcast, and she won't look at me. But she takes the seat next to mine. Good. The garden is a mess again. I don't suggest hiring an expert to get it going. We will figure it out together. The air is clean, and the neighborhood is quiet. I'm beginning to like this neighborhood.

I knock my legs against hers. I need Evie to stop looking like the world is killing her shoulders. "We're fake fiancés."

Evie takes her leg back. "Unfortunately."

"It will be fun."

"Fun? It's a charade."

"Charades can be fun."

"Charades are unnecessary lies that hurt people."

"People get hurt sitting on their porch drinking coffee. They get heart attacks in their beds. I vote we enjoy the fun part of it while it lasts."

She frowns, and my heart bounces in excitement. I know that look. She's thinking about it. "You think it will be fun?"she finally asks.

"Duh. It's you and me." I don't need to stretch to knock her legs. "You plus me is fun."

And her eyes light up. "Says the guy who barely attended college."

"You can't attack me. We're on the same side now. Besides, I did complete high school."

"Carla dragged you every step of the way. Don't even deny it." She raises a hand to block my defense. "Carla already ratted you out.”

I do a dramatic slump against my chair. What was I thinking about Mom and Evie getting along? "Whatever happened to loyalty? I'm her son, for goodness ’ sake."

Evie gives me a mischievous grin. "And I'm her fake daughter-in-law."

Her return is so perfectly placed and lobbed that I laugh. She joins in, and we’re back on normal footing like a puzzle piece clicking into place. When her laugh starts to die down, it is like a light going out. I kick off my sneakers to give her foot a playful nudge.

Evie scowls. "Wild."

"Evie Cassandra."

And we're kicking at each other until we're a mess of legs, sand, and breathless laughter. Loud throat clearing has us freezing in place. Evie slowly withdraws her legs. Mrs. Izaacs steps forward with a cautious smile that doesn't suit her. I'm used to the woman being softly welcoming.

She doesn't look happy to see me today.

She shifts, allowing the delicious smell of butter, garlic, and beef into the previously calm air. My mouth waters.

Evie smiles big and gratefully. I'm about to add my smile and gratitude when a man around Evie’s age steps forward. Unlike Mrs. Izaacs, his welcoming smile envelopes all of us.

Especially Evie.

Mrs. Izaacs hands over the roast and gestures with both hands to the man like it's awards season. "I promised to introduce you to my grandson."She glances at me and clears her throat. "He came around, and I thought, this is a great time for you two to meet!"

I bet.There'sa signal, a tactful nudge in the 'throat clearing,’ but I don't care. I spread my legs and relax in my chair. Not even three of my six foot seven ex-teammates can drag me off this chair.

Mrs. Izaacs stares at me, and the huff slowly leaves her. Then, she shakes her head at me and carries on catching up with Evie. The grandson keeps up with the chatter. He used to live in the neighborhood and knows everyone.

I don't like it.

I don't like him.

I do not like the neighborhood at all.

After they leave—and I get a friendly wink from Mrs. Izaacs—I clear my throat. Evie looks up from her phone. "We're a fake couple."

"Unfortunately."

"Which means we have to put up a front—"

"Pretend," she says.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"You made it pretty. It's not pretty."

"It's not ugly either." I grumble. "It's fun."

"I'm yet to see that." She grumbles back.

Where are the Time Lords in fantasy novels when you need them? I want to go back to nudging her foot. That was fun. "It means we're going to pretend in front of Parker and Sarah, especially Mrs. Langford."

"And your coach and teammates."Her back goes rigid, and her expression turns sour. "You won't want Carla and Will to know the truth. Which means I have to lie to her."

She is right. Lying to Mom won't be fun. "You don't have to sound so pessimistic,"I mutter.

"I shouldn't?"

"Well, I'm not the one who went all,"I change my voice into an exaggerated version of hers, "We're engaged—"

"That's not how I talk!"

"And having an affair behind your unsuspecting backs—"

"Unsuspecting! Wild!"

"And cavorting—"

"She said that, not me!"

She leaps from her chair, an angel of punishment unmasked. I run. She gives chase. But I still have my MVP trophy in my near-empty trophy cabinet. I'm not losing. As we make the rounds of the house, I'm careful to keep my stride short, and I'm thankful I cleared the ground of debris.

The last thing we need is one of us getting injured in the middle of this third quarter. Or maybe we're already in the fourth quarter?

Evie's trumpet-like pants make me stop. I plant my palms on my knees and pretend I'm halfway to death land. We're on a standoff with the porch between us. Neighborhood kids stop to watch, but I don't take my eyes off Evie. She dared me to make this fun when we've always been a bubble of happiness together.

"Let's stop here."I have a new appreciation for actors. How do you fake panting?

Her eyes shoot warning glares. "You patronizing oaf. I know you're faking it."

I think about defending my lie for like three seconds and give up. This woman knows me too well. "Fine. But allow me to say you were awesome and brave, my knight in shining armor, defending me against the ultimate villain."

It sounds like a good joke, something we can share a secret laugh about. But Evie's eyes lose their sparkle. The play leaches out of her. She moves to sit on the porch stairs. I follow.

We watch the neighborhood together. I bask in the quiet and her company. With Evie, I forget about contract talks and Richard breathing down my neck.

There's more to the relationship between her and Mrs. Langford, but I can't imagine what it is.

"This is going to be so fun.”I murmur, but it comes out like a vow.

"I will be content to convince Mrs. Langford I'm not stealing her daughter's happiness,"she says drily. "Throw in erasing the memory of the last two weeks to her satisfaction, and I'm good."

I study her. "Nothing for yourself?"

She startles.

How do I convince her she's the only part of all this for me? "I will make you the happiest woman on the planet during this fake engagement. Bet on it."

She freezes. Wide eyes jump over my face like she's never seen it before. I return her look evenly, so she knows I mean it. A shadow crosses her face, stealing some of the light. Then she barks a laugh. A fake laugh. "It ’ s not that serious," she whispers.

"Bet on it."

Her next laugh is easy and dismissive. "And what do you get if you win this bet?"

"I don't know."

"And if you lose?"

"I don't know that either," I admit.

Evie is not short, but she has an air of vulnerability that calls to my protective instincts, and I've never fought them when it comes to her.

I should be focused on the charity game I'm putting together for Safe Friends. I invited Ro, but she has a game tonight. My stubborn sister insists on being available for the game when her coach has her riding the bench.

I picture Evie's disbelieving face when I promised her, we will have fun, and grin. I can't wait to prove her wrong. Starting now.

With every distance the car covers, Evie sinks deeper into her seat. I shift closer, careful to keep a breath of space between us. Evie is the type to fall asleep on any available surface that's not a bed. It has been the case since she was eight.

When her head lolls to the side minutes later, my shoulder is waiting. Her hair smells fantastic. I'm inhaling a lungful before I realize it. My guilty eyes dart to my driver, who is all business. I turn my head to the window.

The car stops, and she's awake in an instant. I hurry to help her out. We're standing before a building—one of a handful of highly recommended stores that will cater to our every whim.

"You know it's fake, right?" she says with her head tipped back to catch my eye.

Looking over her upturned face, I think of the insulting manner with which she greeted my intention to make this fun. Challenge accepted. "Come on."

She doesn't move an inch. The dubious expression on her face is a perfect fit for an intelligent dog being dragged to the vet. I wiggle my fingers. "Come here."

She obeys.

We start with the rings. Evie's extra wide eyes and pinched look tell me I will have a fight on my hands convincing her to buy into our charade. I should have had the shopper bring everything we needed to the house. But this is more fun.

And from the discreet, 'unaffected' looks Evie is taking around our luxurious surroundings, I know I'm right.

She would never admit it, but Evie loves expensive and understated polish. It's the life she grew up with and the only part of her old life she misses. Still, I'm proud of her for not hesitating to make her own way.

The salesperson is all smiles and a hushed welcome.

“I went through their online catalog,” I start, “See.” I hand Evie my phone just as I get a notification.

Evie pushes the phone back at me and looks away.

“You don’t want to see?”

She clears her throat. “I don't care if it's fake, Wild, I don't share."

Her declaration leaves me flat-footed. For a second. "Me too."

My reply must have been unexpected because she blinks. And takes a step back. "It doesn't merit discussion, of course. But if you have a prior commitment—"

"I don't."

She sucks in a big breath, the type that says she needs every single ounce of patience to deal with me. "I'm serious."

"I'm taking this more seriously than you.”

“I’m not—just treat me with respect.” Her chest rises and falls with a sigh as she looks toward the displayed rings. “We are fake."

This woman is going to be the death of me. "I get it."

"You do?"

Does she have to sound so doubtful? "I did finish high school," I mutter. "Don't remind me about Mom dragging me all the way."

Now, she laughs at my expense. Lips curled with glee, she points at me. "You said it, not me."

I nod at the shopper. We are ready. Finally. "The same goes for you."I pick out the ring that made me start our shopping here.It'sa simply cut ten-carat diamond ring. Simple. Classy. Totally Evie.

"The same what?"Her voice hollows out as I slide the ring up her finger.

It's perfect. "There better not be any Rob and grandsons lurking about."

"Grandsons."Her eyes are liquid and soft. She holds up her hand to admire the ring. Her fingers are feminine. Staring at her fingers sends a loud buzz whooshing past my ears. I shake it off.

"Grandsons,"I say with an exaggerated scowl. "Like the one we just met. Or maybe we should rule out grandmothers since they might come with grandsons."

She frowns at the ring. "Wild, this is too much. Are you forgetting—"

"That my fake fiancée comes with the queen of high society? If you're really doing this for Mrs. Langford,"I nod at the impressive display. "Which of these will she find acceptable?"

"You're right?"Evie relents with a sigh. Her eyes land on my bracelet. “ I give you a wacky bracelet, and you give me diamonds."

"I will take your handmade bracelet over a million-carat diamond."

She shakes her head. "That's terrible math, Wild."

"Math doesn't work with us. Know why?”

She gives a long-suffering sigh. "Why?"

"You plus me is fun." I wink.

"Never meet your fans one on one,"she says. "I don't want them seeing this dorky side of you."

"Now, about your grandsons—"

She knocks a mock punch into my arm. "I'm twenty-six. I can't have grandsons, or are your fantasy novels beginning to mess with your head? Could you, by any chance, be in the year 1914?"

"In the middle of a world war? You couldn't have picked any other year?"

"What's your favorite year then?"

"The Roman age..."

We go back and forth as we shop. Evie goes with the ring I chose. With impressing Mrs. Langford as an incentive, the rest of our shopping goes smoothly.

Done with shopping,we'reriding the elevators when Evie shoots me a shy smile. I only notice because I'm watching her reflection on the doors. The doors open, and other shoppers crowd us. They are chatty. I turn my face away, but not fast enough.

The eyes of the women go wide, and their whispers become a drumbeat.

High-profile clients should act like they're used to running into celebrities, but these women didn't get the memo. Within two beats, they invade my personal space.

They start talking about how blue my eyes are. It's a totally gorgeous blue, I can't be real. Everyone will freak out when they tell them they met me.

Evie shamelessly starts shifting away, leaving me to the wolves. I change the shopping bags to my left and snag her wrist, pulling her to my side. "Girlfriend,"I blurt into their excited ramblings.

"What?"they ask at the same time.

"My girlfriend."I smile at the metal pole stuck to my side. "I want you to meet her."

There's a beat of breathless silence where my heart is pounding in my ears. Evie gives a measuring look that warrants me taking out a shield and sword. I love my fans, but there are aspects of fandom that leave me uneasy. Some can be extreme, acting like you're their property. So, they cast judgment on your choice of friends or partner.

Then there ’ s the opposite side of it. Cue in the trolls and hecklers.

I'm going to shield Evie from that.I'mworking up to a stern warning when they start squealing like a mother goat in labor. "She's gorgeous!"

After they finally leave, thank goodness, I turn to Evie. She's not smiling. I murmur my thanks as the driver gets the car.

Does she want to back out of our arrangement?

The driver hands Evie a gift-wrapped box. She makes no move to open it and settles against the car instead.

"Everything okay?"I stop in front of her, searching her face. Was introducing her as my girlfriend too much? "I just thought that with our appearance at the game tonight, we should break the news gently. I saw the opportunity—"

Did the corner of her lips just twitch?

"I didn't like you spending so much for a ruse,"she says.

I move closer. "I've always loved buying you things. You made me stop, remember?"

"Driving a bright yellow Porsche on my first day at college is low. I don't care what anyone says."

"I could afford it then and a hundred times now." I brag.

Her twitching lips become a full-blown grin. She dips into the deepest curtsey. "Forgive me, sir, for forgetting who you really are. Mr. Top Five Earner." Her voice heightens to a squealing pitch. "The man who can't be real with totally blue eyes!"

I laugh. "Don't forget, gorgeous. They said totally gorgeous blue eyes."

Our gazes collide, and our laugh becomes an uncontrollable guffaw. My head lops forward and lands on her shoulder as tears stream down my face.

Evie is laughing just as hard. She hits my shoulder, and I lift my head. "If only they knew how unreal you are. I mean, you're not even of this age. What did you call it again?"

"The Roman age."

"Exactly!"

And we burst into fresh peals of laughter. I shake my head at her, and the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. "What did I tell you?"I ask quietly. "You plus me is fun."

"Shut up,"she says. With a rough exhale and that shy smile, I glimpsed before my fans interrupted, she hands over the gift box. "I wanted to do something for you. I won't have you doing all the work and taking credit for our fake engagement. So, uhm, here."

I'm speechless. "You didn't have to—"

"You too. You didn't have to."Her smile is softer, like a light touch. "You'll like it."

"What's in it?"I turn the box over. It has weight. I hope she hasn't gone overboard with the spending. "What did I say about repaying me?"

She smirks. "You won't care about repayment when you see what I got you."

I start tearing at the packaging. When I see the books, my jaw goes slack. "Evie."

She flushes.

"Thank you."

"Come on!"

"Seriously."My eyes are fixed on the books and their spectacular covers. "You didn't--"

"Come on!"she urges, diving into the car.

With a growl at her intentional interruptions, I follow.

Within the enclosure of the car, the air is charged. Intimate.

“ Why are you quiet?” she asks.

I thrum my fingers on my thigh. “ Why are you whispering?”

“ Because you ’ re quiet.”

I arch an eyebrow that says that’s not an answer.

Evie pokes my side in retaliation. “ Now, you ’ re whispering.”

“ I ’ m thinking,” I admit after a pause.

She sits up, a slight frown on her face. “Are you okay?”

“With our engagement? Yes.”

“I mean with coming back. Here.”

I breathe out to ease the tightness in my chest. “Maybe?”

“ Under all your,” she waves a hand to bracket it, “ bluster. You ’ re scared.”

I don ’ t say a word.

I don ’ t have words. I ’ ve stopped running, and now I don ’ t know what to do.

I drop my eyes from her too perceptive ones. She takes my hand. “ It ’ s okay,” she whispers.

I still don ’ t have words.

“ Tell the club to release a strong statement saying they will stand by you, and they are against any kind of fan violence.”

My voice comes back to me. I shake my head. “ They already did that before.”

Before and after the police arrested my stalker. And many times after I forced a transfer to another team without facing my teammates.

“ They don ’ t owe me anything.”

“ No,” she agrees.

My eyes jump to hers. The passion in the brown depths freezes me in place.

“ They will do it not because they owe you but because it ’ s the right thing to do and humans sometimes need to be reminded to be good. Because we ’ re imperfect.”

She gives my hand a squeeze. “ It will be okay.”