Page 65 of The Fake Out

“I don’t want this to be a big thing, but apparently, it is,” he grumbled.

“Okay…” I didn’t want to lie to him. I really didn’t. But damn if I wanted to tell him that his sister couldn’t get enough of my dick, yet didn’t want anything serious, so we’d agreed to have a fling for the next few weeks. I wouldn’t want to know that shit about Isabella or Yevette, so as much as I hated being untruthful, I was gearing myself up to do just that.

If I could say hey, I really like your sister, and I want to try to be the guy she has a future with, I wouldn’t sweat it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t imagine him being okay with a casual hookup with an expiration date.

“I thought it was pretty obvious, but Avery said we should hash it out. So…” Chris glared at me, and I thought my heart might have stopped.

I cracked my knuckles and waited, my breathing suddenly shallow.

“I need a best man.” His jaw tightened. “I told her it was implied that you’d do it, but apparently, I need to come out and ask.”

Instantly, my entire body relaxed, and I threw my head back and laughed. “Dude, there is no world in which I wouldn’t be your best man. You know that.”

“That’s what I told Avery.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “But she made me nervous as fuck, worrying that you might not want to.” He shrugged. “So this is probably a given too, but I’m not gonna be renewing the lease for our apartment.”

That hit harder, but I tempered my reaction. Obviously, he and Avery would be living together officially, but we’d been roommates for almost six years. The thought of once again being on my own cut deep. There were very few things I’d experienced that were worse than being lonely.

“We can continue month to month until October, so if you want to just take it over then, that’s an option.” He shrugged again. “I’m going to keep month to month going until Gi moves out regardless. But after that…”

“Right.” I nodded. I’d still heard nothing about a contract extension from the team. I couldn’t lock myself into a lease. Our place wasn’t ideal anyway. It was too big for one person and way too formal and fancy. Not to mention it was more expensive than I could afford alone with my current contract. Mason had a guest room, and so did Kyle. So once Gi moved out…

Fuck. Every time I thought about her leaving, it was like a knife to the gut. But it was reality. She’d even been chatting with her dad about a possible place in New York last night.

So once she was gone, I could probably crash with one of them until the end of the season. Go back to Jersey for a month or so and figure out where to go from there.

I swallowed back the wave of sadness threatening to make itself known. I’d have to start over. Alone again. I took a deep breath and let it out, pushing away the emotions. I’d done it at seventeen; I could damn well do it now.

“So.” Chris popped in one earbud. “Since that’s all settled, I’m crashing. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Smirking, he popped in the second earbud and leaned back, shutting his eyes.

I turned to the window and looked out over the tarmac. Normally, I was a champ at napping on planes, but there was no way I was getting any sleep today. Although we weren’t even at the all-star break, the uncertainties of next season loomed. And the idea of a new team, making connections, feeling at home, haunted me.

Halfway through the flight to the West Coast, I pulled out my phone.

Me: How’d the call with Dylan go?

Gi: It was quick - I’m going to meet with her on Wednesday.

Me: That’s great.

Gi: Might be silly - but I’m really excited to see her house.

I could understand that. The place had chill vibes. It was like walking into the calmest house on earth. It was well decorated, without being over-the-top, and the roof deck was killer. Not to mention the basement was full of every game a guy could want. Pool, ping-pong, darts, basketball, air hockey. We’d had the best time when he’d had the team over for a housewarming party.

Gi: I’m obsessed with brownstones.

Me: I like the feel of them. The room without too much dead space.

Gi: Exactly - and the mix of the old and new that some people create is killer.

Me: Dylan rocked hers.

Gi: I’ve always wanted to own one.

The scene played out before my eyes. Her at the stove in the long, thin, open space. Old woodwork and clean white subway tile. White cabinets. Black hardware. Leggings, a cropped shirt, and a messy bun, with the steam coming off the pot on the burner. Gianna bouncing to a beat in a way she wouldn’t if she knew she wasn’t alone. It was her future.

I swallowed.

Me: If that’s what you want, then you will, and I want to see your painting of it.

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