Page 14 of Fake Fiancée for the Grump

I ignore Kennedy's comments. Of course, it's not a good idea. I look out my window, palm trees passing me in a blur. My parents called yesterday. For the past few weeks, they've been out of reach while on a cruise. Now, they're coming home.

A tingle runs down my back. The retirement party is this weekend. My parents asked me to help with preparations, but I can’t think about those details right now because Brinn still hasn’t agreed to come.

"We'll just steal Brinn for a brief moment and bring her back."

Kennedy continues his warning, “She’s not going to like this, Jackson. She’s in class.”

I massage my jaw. “I know, but Greyson said it wasn’t an important one when I asked him about her schedule. Relax, Kennedy. It’s going to be fine.”

Hopefully.

I’ve only seen Brinn once since her visit to my house. I rescheduled my physical therapy appointment a few days ago. It went pretty well. She never mentioned the nightmare. I didn’t bring up my proposal.

Brinn is always very professional. I was the one struggling for composure. I can still feel her warm hands on my skin. I don’t think she has any idea of the effect she’s having on me.

We arrive at the university. Students stream in and out of the buildings in an endless flow. Eyes follow our luxury sedan as Kennedy rolls into the parking lot.

I inhale deeply and exit the car. Walking with a cane is hard on my ego, but after my fall, I know it’s a necessity.

"Greyson said she’s in a building called Hammons, room 102. Could you ask someone for directions?”

Kennedy smiles at me and nods. He knows I don’t want to approach people right now.

I’ve always been a confident man. Some might say egotistical. Some did say that after what happened to my squad. Some higher-ups in the military said my overconfidence led to the men’s deaths. I live with those consequences every day.

Maybe that’s why I skipped therapy. I deserve the pain as a self-imposed punishment. I’m no psychologist, but I understand self-sabotage.

It’s still hard to get used to this gnawing feeling inside. Feeling less than everywhere I go. Watching the pity in the eyes of strangers when they see me. I’m way too young to be using a cane.

“Can you try to smile a bit? You're scaring away the people.” Kennedy jokes. He stops a passing student, giving me a thumbs up when he has the information we need.

Brinn's class is massive. It’s not an actual room but a large auditorium. This is good news. Maybe we can get to her without drawing too much attention.

The professor is facing the large screen at the front. We’ve entered from the back and gone unnoticed so far. A video plays, masking any noise we make coming in.

"Do you see her?" Kennedy asks.

"No. There’s got to be two hundred people in here."

“Let’s split up. You take the right side. I’ll take the left.”

I do my best to walk without my cane clacking on the tile floor. Minutes go by without any luck. I look at Kennedy, and he shrugs his shoulders.

The video ends, but I don’t notice quickly enough. My cane echoes in the silence, every head turning my way.

Great.

The professor whips around, staring daggers at me. “Can I help you?”

I’m frozen. “Um, uh, yes. Sorry to interrupt. I need to borrow Brinn Parker, please.”

“Borrow her?” he responds, his brows knit in confusion.

“Yes, family emergency.”

“You need toborrowher for a family emergency? Well, by all means, go right ahead then.” His annoyance is obvious. I don’t blame him. That sounded ridiculous, even to me.

Brinn rises slowly from a seat near the front row.

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