Page 100 of The Fake Out Flex

Oakey runs into the living room in his dinosaur pajamas, full of energy, his sandy-blond hair still damp, and leaps onto my lap.

"I need to get going, kiddo."

He gives me an almighty hug. "I love you, Uncle Fras."

"I love you, too, buddy."

As I get into my car and the three of them wave me off, Dawn mouths the words, "Open up."

I think about it on the thirty-minute drive down the mountain into Comfort Bay.

I've always been a reserved person, even as a kid. Making friends has never been easy for me. It isn't that I'm shy, I just don't have a natural way around people.

I'm not outgoing and charismatic like my oldest brother Trace, who can walk into any room and strike up a conversation with anyone. He's got the gift of making you feel like you're the only person in the world when he's talking to you.

And I didn't inherit Mom's incurable need to be the center of attention like Clayton did. He laps up people's attention like the 'Best in Show' winner at a dog show.

My only talents in life are shooting a puck into a net and keeping up—or trying to—with Evie and Levi's non-stop banter.

Once I get into town, I stop by the flower shop to get Evie some more yellow roses, exchanging a few words with Hannah.

I make the short drive from the shop to Evie's place, pulling up in front of her apartment block. It's a rustic two-story building with wood and stucco exteriors painted in warm, earthy tones and a classic Spanish-style tile roof.

A grin spreads across my face as I stride into the building.

She has no idea I'm coming, and I can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees me.

I reach her door, take out my phone, and press the green button next to her name. Whatever music she'd been playing—not punk, thankfully—stops, and she answers.

"Hey, Fraser."

My heart drops because in those two words alone, I can feel her not-okayness through the phone. The meeting she had with her boss today mustn't have gone well. At least it justifies my crazy decision to fly across the country to be with her.

"Hey, Evie. What's up?"

"Oh. You know. The usual life of a modern gal living it up in Comfort Bay on a Wednesday night. It's all very glamorous. Sipping on a cocktail while deciding what seven-thousand-dollar dress to buy next to add to my collection."

I knock on the door.

"Sorry. Can you hang on? There's someone here." I hear her shuffling toward the door. "I wonder who it is. I haven't ordered any food."

I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. "No problem. I'll wait."

She unlocks the door, and it swings wide open.

Her mouth falls open, and she stares at me in sheer horror, almost dropping the ice cream carton she's carrying in one hand and the hot glue gun in the other.

"Oh, my gosh, Fraser! What are you doing here?" is what I think she means to say, but because of the spoon in her mouth, it comes out more like, "Oh, mmmph gosh, Frah-sa! Wha' ah yew doin' 'ere?"

Good thing I'm well-versed in Evie-speak.

"Surprising you, of course." I lift the bouquet of flowers in front of me and flash her a wide smile. "Surprise!"

13

Evie

I'd clasp my chest in shock if I weren't cradling a tub of ice-cream in one hand and holding a hot glue gun in the other.

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