Page 77 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

He claps me on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Christina and I are rooting for you two. Always have been.”

As we part ways at the edge of the park, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m going to show Isla I’m not like her father. I’m not Kyle or any of the others who left. I’m not going anywhere.

And I’ll prove it every day if I have to.

“For the launch event of the Senior and Adaptive Program, I’m planning a community showcase. Demo some of the equipment, host a panel discussion.” I pull out my phone, scrolling to the rough draft of the event flyer. I slide the phone across the table toward Dad. “Wanted to get your thoughts before I lock it in.”

After my morning run, I stopped by my parents’ house for breakfast. We’re at the kitchen table, the scent of coffee and cinnamon toast in the air. Dad sets aside his folded newspaper, then picks up my phone and starts reading.

Dad studies the screen in silence. His expression is unreadable, as always. I’ve spent months planning, ever since watching him struggle through his own recovery.

The silence stretches long enough to become uncomfortable. Dad’s eyes stay fixed on the screen. My stomach twists with every second he doesn’t speak. Growing up, I learned to read his silence like weather patterns.

I shift in my seat, already listing all the ways this could be a mistake. Too soon. Too ambitious. Too expensive.

He finally sets the phone down and meets my eyes.

“Sounds like you’ve thought it through.” Dad hands back my phone. “The plan looks solid.”

That’s it? My brain scrambles to fill in the part where he tells me it’s risky, or too soft, or that I need to run it past someone with more experience.

“But do you think it’s the right move? The timing, the investment—”

“I think,” he interrupts, “that you’re a grown man who knows this business.”

I look up. For a second, something flickers—his mouth doesn’t quite set back into the usual line, and his brow doesn’t pull like when he’s holding back a critique. Just stillness. Calm. Almost like . . . approval.

He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I trust you, Asher. I’ve trusted you with my life’s work for five years now, and you haven’t let me down yet.”

Something in my chest loosens. He’s never said that to me. I’d always figured he handed me the gym because he had to. Because he was recovering, because there wasn’t anyone else.

“Nobody’s ever perfect. Not me, not you.” The hard lines on his face ease just a little. “You’re going to make mistakes. That’s just part of running a business—part of life. What matters is that you learn from them and fix what you can.”

“I just don’t want to screw up what you built.”

“You won’t.”

I’m about to respond when Mom breezes into the kitchen, already dressed for the day in one of her colorful cardigans. She’s wearing that particular smile, the one that means she’s got gossip or she’s plotting something.

“Good morning, boys,” she says, heading straight for the coffee pot. “Asher, have you checked The Frosthaven Buzz this morning?”

“No, why?”

Mom’s smile widens as she pours her coffee. “Oh, I think you should take a look. Right now.”

There’s something in her tone that makes me instantly suspicious. “Mom, what did you do?”

“Me? Nothing!” She puts a hand over her heart, looking offended, but her eyes are twinkling. “I’m just saying, there’s a very interesting post about a certain matchmaker and a certain gym owner that’s getting quite a lot of attention.”

“Mom—”

She slides into the chair beside Dad. “Just check it, dear.”

The Frosthaven Buzz (Unofficial News)

BREAKINGNEWS:Frosthaven’sBestFriends Found Love

Anonymous Member 57 minutes ago

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