Page 28 of Faking the Rules

The hockey house is already pulsing with celebration when we arrive, music throbbing through the floorboards, bodies packed into every available space. The team's arrival—led by Declan, with me at his side—triggers a new wave of cheers and raised cups.

"WOLFE!" Brady appears, already well on his way to intoxication, throwing an arm around Declan's shoulders. "Fucking brilliant feed, man! Didn't even see you looking!"

"Wasn't looking," Declan confirms with a grin. "Just knew you'd be there."

"Damn right I was." Brady's attention shifts to me, his smile warming further. "Ellie! You're actually at a party! Voluntarily!"

"Miracles never cease," I say dryly.

Brady laughs, genuinely delighted. "I like her, Wolfe. Keep this one." He leans in conspiratorially. "He's useless without you, you know. All mopey and distracted before you came along."

"Brady," Declan warns, but there's no heat in it.

"What?" Brady feigns innocence. "Just telling your girl the truth. You were a disaster after Kaitlyn—"

"And that's enough of that," Declan interrupts, his expression tightening. "Drinks? Ellie?"

"Water," I request, my mind caught on Brady's casual revelation. After Kaitlyn. What happened with Kaitlyn that left Declan a "disaster"? And why hasn't he mentioned it?

Declan disappears toward the kitchen, leaving me with Brady, who seems to realize he's stumbled into sensitive territory. "Sorry," he says, surprisingly perceptive despite his intoxication. "Didn't mean to bring up ancient history."

"It's fine," I assure him, though it isn't. "Declan's past relationships aren't my business."

Brady studies me, his expression turning serious. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you two—the rumors, the posts,all that drama. But I know my best friend. And he's different with you. Better." He glances toward the kitchen. "Don't let Kaitlyn's bullshit fool you. She's just pissed because he finally found someone real."

Before I can respond to this unexpected vote of confidence, a commotion near the front door draws our attention. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, revealing a group of girls making an entrance clearly designed to be noticed. At their center, like a queen among courtiers, stands Kaitlyn—stunning in a dress that barely covers the essentials, her blonde hair gleaming under the party lights.

Her eyes scan the room with predatory focus, landing on me with a smile that sends ice down my spine. She whispers something to her friends, who giggle in response, then begins making her way toward me with deliberate slowness.

"Shit," Brady mutters beside me. He glances toward the kitchen again. "Declan's gonna lose it."

As if summoned by his name, Declan emerges from the kitchen, drinks in hand. He freezes when he spots Kaitlyn, his expression shifting from relaxed to thunderous in an instant. She sees him at the same moment, her smile widening as she changes course, heading directly for him instead of me.

I watch, stomach churning, as she reaches him—pressing her body against his in a greeting that's deliberately provocative, her lips close to his ear as she says something that makes his jaw clench. He steps back immediately, putting space between them, but the damage is done. The entire party is watching now, phones raised to capture whatever drama is unfolding.

Declan says something to her, his expression hard, then pushes past to continue toward me. But Kaitlyn follows, her voice carrying over the music: "Running back to your fake girlfriend, Declan? How sweet."

The room quiets, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Declan reaches me, his face a mask of controlled fury as he hands me a water bottle. "We're leaving," he says, his voice tight. "Now."

"But we just got here," I point out, even as relief floods through me at the prospect of escape.

"Trust me," he says, his voice dropping lower. "You don't want to be here for what comes next."

Before I can ask what he means, Kaitlyn appears at his shoulder, her smile venomous as she looks me up and down. "So this is her," she says, as if I'm not standing right there. "Your little academic project. Gotta say, I expected more from the girl who supposedly 'changed' Declan Wolfe."

Heat rises to my cheeks—embarrassment, anger, the humiliation of being assessed and dismissed in front of an audience. But before I can form a response, Declan steps slightly in front of me, a subtle shield against Kaitlyn's venom.

"Back off, Kait," he says, his voice dangerously quiet. "You've made your point. Now leave Ellie alone."

"Or what?" she challenges, alcohol and bitterness making her reckless. "You'll pretend to date her even harder?" She turns to the watching crowd. "You all know it's fake, right? He asked me first—wanted me to play the role of reformed girlfriend so Coach would stop riding his ass about partying." Her laugh is harsh, brittle. "I said no, so he found someone desperate enough to say yes."

The words land like physical blows, each one striking deeper than the last.He asked me first. He asked me first. He asked me first.

I stare at Declan, waiting for him to deny it, to say it's a lie designed to hurt us both. But the guilt in his eyes, the muscle jumping in his jaw—they confirm what I already know in my gut to be true.

"Ellie," he begins, reaching for me. "I can explain—"

I step back, away from his touch, away from the truth crashing down around me. The room spins slightly, faces blurring as tears threaten. Not here. I will not break down here, in front of everyone, in front of her.

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