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BLAKELY

“I’m sorry to let you know that we won’t be moving forward with your application at this time. Please do try again in the new year when we have more spots to fill.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time,” I say, putting every ounce of strength I have into not sobbing.

“Have a great day, Blakely.”

“You too.”

When the call ends, I brace a hand on the countertop and drop my head. It’s been over a week since I lost my job, and this is yet another rejection. I thought I had a fighting chance with this last one, but I guess I just didn’t have what they were wanting.

My heart is heavy in my chest as I shut my eyes, refusing to cry over this. I’ve always been able to find my way out of a dark spot, and I plan on doing that again. The path out is just a whole lot harder to find this time, my guiding light dim.

“Is everything okay?”

Pasting on a smile, I turn to face Nate. He’s dressed for practice, looking older than he is with his hair pushed back and eyes bright with anticipation. Another wave of emotion crashes into me, this one harsher, crueller .

“Everything’s great. Are you ready to go?”

He doesn’t move a muscle as he takes me in. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I have something to give you before we leave.” I spin away and press my thumb into the corner of my eye to make sure it’s dry.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“It doesn’t have to be a special occasion for me to give you a gift.”

“Alright,” he relents, suspicion still heavy in his voice.

I shoved his new cleats in the front closet behind the mop bucket, knowing that he wouldn’t find them there. The last time Nate mopped the floor, he left it so wet that the linoleum started to peel.

It’s been hard keeping them a secret, but I wanted to wait until his next practice came around first. He’ll want to wear them as soon as he sees the box. And after today, I think I need to give them to him just as much as he deserves to receive them. Especially after he made it through his first week of school with only a few complaints.

School has never been easy for him, and I was expecting the worst. I always told him that while he can’t start the fights, he can always end them, but he’s still maturing and, with that, still putting on muscle.

Last year, he was picked on quite often, and I watched as it tore him down peg by peg. My only hope for this school year is to see him without a frown when he gets home at the end of every day.

“Go sit on the couch and cover your eyes. No peeking!” I order, moving toward the closet.

He obeys with a wave of his hand, so I grab the box from the exact spot I left it and join him in the living room portion of the apartment. It’s just one open space with the addition of the single bedroom and bathroom, but at least the pull-out couch helps break it up a bit .

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

“It better not be a snake,” he warns before staring at the box.

I let loose a quiet laugh. “It’s not a snake.”

“Holy shit!”

I stumble back a step when he shoots off the couch and takes the box from me. With his height in comparison to mine, he dwarfs me as he yanks me into his arms for a hug, squishing the box between us.

Mouthing curling into a soft smile, I hug him back. “I’ll take this as you liking them?”

“Like them? I love them! These are top-of-the-line, Lake! How did you manage to get them?”

Breaking away from me, he gapes down at the writing on the lid. With a flick of his wrist, he has the shoes revealed. White with orange details, they look worth the price, even if it still makes me want to throw up at how much they cost.

It helps that I wasn’t the one that paid. But only partially. Once I remember that the man who tapped his card at the store is still waiting for an answer as to whether I’ll become his fake wife, my stomach sours once again.

There are far worse things to be, but I still haven’t decided if I want my first and maybe only marriage to be a sham, even if it won’t be for forever.

Divorce isn’t just a possibility. It’s the only path ahead for us. If I go along with this, I’ll be divorced before I’m twenty-five.

“That’s not important. What is is that you like them. That’s all I want,” I say.

“Bateman wasn’t my favourite player on the Pythons last year, but you should see him move this season! You blink and he’s already in the end zone!” he gushes, picking a shoe up and lifting it in front of his face.

I play with the ends of my ponytail, growing antsy. “He’s that good?”

“He’s a beast. I want to be as fast as him one day. ”

Oh, I’m sure Jamie would love hearing that.

“What else do you know about him?”

Nate glances at me, eyes wide and bubbling with excitement. “Are you interested in ball now? Is that part of the reason you got me these?”

“Slow down, buddy. That’s not what I said.”

“You’ve never asked about players before. I remember you telling me once that my football talk was making your brain melt out of your ears.”

“Okay, that was one time. And I only said that because I was on a phone call when you were giving me a rundown.”

He sits back on the couch and hikes his socks up before readying the cleat. His foot slides in easily before he starts lacing it up.

“Whatever, sis. That’s not the point. I just wanna know why you’re asking about them now.”

“One of the Pythons players was at the store when I got those shoes. My interest was piqued, that’s all,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

Nate freezes. “What? Who?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I try playing it off. “That Bateman guy.”

“What?” he shouts, shoe forgotten and falling to the floor with a clunk. “You’re not being serious.”

“It was only a brief encounter.”

“You met him? Why didn’t you mention this to me before? What the hell, Lake! Did you talk? Did you tell him about me?” he rambles, looking like he might burst if I don’t watch what I say.

“Slow down. It wasn’t like I went there planning on meeting him. It just happened.”

He shakes his head, huffing a breath while picking the cleat up off the floor. “You don’t meet your brother’s favourite football player and not get him a signature or something! Or at least ask for a picture! Oh, my God, I’ve failed my teachings with you.”

It’s hard to keep a straight face as I pat his shoulder. “I’m so sorry to have not pounced on a stranger for you.”

He blows out a heavy exhale, looking away from me. “Thank you, but I can’t forgive you yet.”

“I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

“Don’t be sarcastic right now! This is so not the time,” he sasses, darting his eyes back to mine.

“How about you just thank me for the shoes, and we move on? Maybe you’ll find it in your heart to forgive my lack of sports star etiquette after practice.”

His expression softens with appreciation. “Thank you. Really, these are incredible. The best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Even if I did fumble the ball with the player?”

“Hey, that was the right way to use that. Maybe you are learning. I’ll be able to make a football fan out of you one day.”

I roll my eyes and pass him the second cleat, watching as he holds them close to his chest. “Get to it, superstar. If we miss the bus, you’re piggybacking me all the way to the field.”

He doesn’t need any further motivation, and two minutes later, I’m handing him his bag, and we’re rushing out the door.

“I’m really close to being able to afford a car, you know?” he asks when I shut the door behind us. “What do you think of a truck? Not a fancy one, but like an old, reliable one?”

With my key in my hand, I spin to lock the door.

At the sight of the piece of paper taped onto it . . . My legs threaten to give out.

Eviction Notice.

Nate comes up behind me, easily peering over my shoulder before I have a chance to rip the paper off the door.

“What’s the hell is that? Are we?—”

Snatching the notice, I crumble it into a ball, but not before he reads the writing on it. “It’s nothing. ”

“Yes, it is. Don’t lie to me. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You are a kid, Nathan. And you will be a kid to me forever,” I snap, my voice cracking on the last word as I toss the crumbled paper onto the floor.

The hall is shrinking around me, the walls brushing up against my arms as a sharp sensation of failure stabs me deep in the belly. Suddenly, the dark spot is more like a pit of tar dragging me deeper and deeper until I’m breathing and seeing black.

“Hey, it’s okay, Lake,” Nate murmurs, touching my arm. “We’ll figure it out.”

I don’t have it in me to tell him he’s wrong. “We better go.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go. Maybe we should stay and talk about this instead.”

“No. Your practice is important. I’ll figure this out afterward.”

“How much does the landlord need? How far behind are we? I told you that I have money saved. Let me help.”

We’re only one of six apartments on this floor, and with how paper-thin the walls are, I know everyone who’s home can hear every word we’re saying. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, considering where we live, but after what happened with the shoes last week on top of this, my give-no-shit attitude is starting to crumble. I don’t know how much more I can take right now.

Facing my baby brother, I keep my expression stern, hoping it’ll drive home my words. “I’ll take care of it. I know you want to help, but it’s not your place. You were just telling me about the truck you want. Let’s go back to that, okay?”

“I’m not going to pretend everything is fine, Blakely. That worked when I was twelve, but it won’t work now. I’ll leave it until after practice, but that’s it,” he says, as stubborn as me.

“Fine,” I relent, ruffling his hair. “Now, can we please go?”

“Do you promise that we’ll talk about it? If not tonight, then tomorrow?”

My throat is sticky when I say, “Yes. ”

And fifteen minutes later, when we’re sitting on the dirty bus, his clunky football bag bumping against my knees in the small area between our seats, I send a text that I’ve been avoiding for a week.

Me: Hi. It’s Blakely. Can we meet to talk?