Page 44 of Fractured Faceoff

Chapter 12

Jared

Ileaned against my truck, arms crossed, watching Isla stride toward her friend's house. Her shoulders squared, head held high—she looked every bit the professional. The kind of woman who had it all together, despite what she just caught her boyfriend doing.

A smirk crept onto my face. Everything was falling into place.

I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin. As I turned the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life, drowning out the chaotic thoughts racing through my mind. I gripped the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Isla behind.

The drive to Plymouth stretched before me, a mix of unfamiliar roads and flickering streetlights. Detroit had its charm—a gritty, blue-collar vibe that spoke to me in a way I didn’t quite understand yet. The city hummed with energy, but shadows lurked around every corner. Buildings towered overhead, remnants of an industrial past clashing with modern storefronts. Graffiti splashed vibrant colors across brick walls like battle scarsfrom a long fight.

As I navigated the streets, I took in the scenery. Young professionals strolled past coffee shops while others hustled home from work. Neon signs blinked over bars that pulsed with music and laughter—places I had yet to explore.

Turning onto a quieter road, I felt a twinge of isolation creeping in. This place was still new to me; it held no memories yet. My townhouse loomed ahead, a modest two-story unit surrounded by trees still heavy with autumn leaves.

I parked and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air laced with hints of woodsmoke and fast food from nearby joints. Inside my townhouse, the familiar scent of old wood and paint greeted me as I tossed my keys on the counter.

I kicked my shoes off and sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. My mind kept drifting back to Isla. She wasn’t the type to grab attention with flashy outfits or a loud laugh. No, her beauty lay in subtleties. Her hair framed her face like a halo, soft waves catching the light just right, casting shadows that made her look almost ethereal. When she focused on someone—like during our session—her green eyes sparked with intensity, drawing you in as if she could see straight through to your soul.

There was strength in her demeanor too, a quiet confidence that made her stand out in a crowd without trying. She held herself with purpose, every movement deliberate and sure. But beneath that polished exterior lay an undercurrent of vulnerability that resonated with me. I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets she carried behind those thoughtful glances.

I scratched my chin, considering how this plan would unfold. Isla didn’t trust easily, and for good reason; life had tossed her some nasty curveballslately. The first step would be gaining her trust. I had to convince her that this fake relationship was worth pursuing—not just for revenge against Brody but for both of us to reclaim some power in our chaotic lives.

It felt like walking a tightrope without a safety net.

“Just sell it,” I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of my own uncertainty pressing down on me. We needed to be convincing if we were going to pull this off; one misstep could shatter everything.

I imagined our first public outing—Isla’s laughter mingling with mine as we shared inside jokes over drinks, all while pretending we were more than just two people faking a connection. If we played our cards right, we’d not only mess with Brody and Ava but also give each other a much-needed boost of confidence.

I pushed myself off the couch, the creaking leather echoing in the stillness of the townhouse. A shower sounded like a good plan—just enough to wash away the day's grime and confusion. I trudged down the narrow hallway, my feet dragging against the hardwood floor.

The bathroom door swung open, revealing the small space with its faded blue tiles and a mirror that had seen better days. I flicked on the light, squinting as it illuminated every corner. The mirror reflected a face worn from too many late nights and too many worries—dark circles under my eyes and stubble that needed attention.

As I turned on the faucet, hot water gushed out, filling the air with steam that curled around me like a warm blanket. I stepped under the spray, letting it cascade over my shoulders and down my back. The heat enveloped me, melting away tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Thoughts of Isla floated to the surface again—her eyes glinting with determination, her confidencejuxtaposed against the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. If anyone could understand this mess I was in, it would be her.

I scrubbed my hands through my hair, water mixing with soap as it slid down my body. The steam fogged up the mirror, distorting my reflection into a blurry figure lost in thought.

I rinsed off and shut off the water, stepping out onto the cool tile floor. Grabbing a towel, I dried myself off quickly before wrapping it around my waist.

Once dressed in comfortable sweats and an old T-shirt that hung loosely on me, I felt somewhat human again. With one last glance in the mirror—a fleeting moment where I tried to shake off self-doubt—I headed toward my bedroom.

The day had drained me; sleep beckoned like an old friend waiting at the door. As I climbed into bed, exhaustion washed over me like that warm shower had moments before.

The morning lightcrept through the blinds, casting striped shadows across my room. I squinted at the clock—too damn early. A quick shower jolted me awake, and I dressed in a hurry, tossing on a worn Serpents hoodie that felt like a second skin.

After I downed some water, I headed to the kitchen. The smell of brewing coffee wrapped around me like a familiar hug. God, I loved automatic coffee timers. I didn’t have to do anything, and my coffee was waiting for me. I poured a steaming cup and leaned against the counter, watching the liquid swirl as I tried to shake off sleep’s lingering grasp.

I glanced out the window; the sun glared back, brighteningup what promised to be a scorching day. Morning skates always brought energy, but today felt different. Today was about Isla—our plan. It stirred something in me, a mix of excitement and dread.

My phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through my thoughts. Kash’s name lit up the screen.

You busy this weekend?

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys.

No games scheduled; maybe just practice.

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