Page 100 of Hard to Fake

“Miles was in the NBA, Caroline. Your math doesn’t add up.”

“It was April, right before exams, and he was in town for an alumni event. I have proof. These are the photos from that night.” She pulls up pictures of Kevin, his face swollen and purple.

My stomach twists with nausea. Whatever did happen to Kevin, it doesn’t look made up.

I never saw this, which means it must have happened after he broke up with me.

And it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Miles.

“Miles is a professional athlete. He’s one of the most popular players in the entire league,” I say.

“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you.”

Nothing is adding up. I hate being blindsided in front of Caroline, but I have to believe this is one more ploy to knock me off guard.

“Why would he do that?” I demand.

Caroline flicks her hair out of her face, the diamond dancing in the light. “You’ll have to ask him.”

* * *

Nova: So I’ve been sending you good vibes for your pitch. And secretly praying you and Miles would hook up (don’t hate me). Can’t wait to hear the details when you get home! :)

The scenery passes slowly on the two-hour drive in the back of the limo that arrived as Miles said it would, but my head is spinning.

My text convo with Miles hasn’t been touched since before the reunion. His social has been silent too.

His note is in my pocket, and I run my fingers over it.

Caroline’s accusation is nuts.

Except…

The night she claims this happened was right around the time Kevin broke up with me.

I didn’t see him all summer after that, so I wouldn’t have known.

I type out a text to Miles, but I don’t know how to ask the question.

Did you hit Kevin back in college? Did you put him in the hospital?

If it's the truth, Miles has been hiding it for a long time.

More than that, if he hurt Kevin when he was a rookie in the league, that could have repercussions for his career.

Why on earth did he do it?

The questions won’t leave my mind. They spin and twist in my brain right up until the car pulls up to my building.

We’ll figure this out, I tell myself.

Miles said he’d meet me once I got back.

Someone opens the door…

But it’s not Miles.

“What are you doing here?” I demand when I recognize the man blocking my way out.

Jay stares at me with the kind of look he’d have when I fell into a ditch and scraped my knee as a kid—the look that says I’m in big trouble.

“We need to talk.”

* * *

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