Page 5 of Pump Fake

The little ringleader slid his phone down and out of view. It was the best I could ask for without an argument I wasn’t up for. My stomach churned in tandem with the pounding in my head, and I sat behind my desk, needing to quell the nausea from the borderline migraine that threatened to escalate into a full blown one.

My chair was a little too far back, and I gripped the sides, standing slightly to scoot it in. A loud rip filled the eerily quiet room.Son of a bitch!The cool breeze on my backside told me everything I needed to know. They’d superglued my chair. Heat flooded my face, and I jerked my gaze to Preston, who had his phone back up and pointed at me—the little miscreant.

“Miss Sinclair.” Jeremy raised his hand. “Can you come here? I have a question about this assignment.”

I refused to play into the delinquent’s ploy. “I’m assuming this is your handiwork, Jeremy?”

A wide grin stretched his face. “No, but it’s funny.” He cast a sly glance at Preston, who continued to film me.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who did it. “I’ll see you after class, Preston, and I expect a family member to be present, or you’ll lose extracurricular privileges all semester.”

He pressed his mouth into a tight line, finally putting his phone away. I’d gotten the scoundrel exactly where I wanted him—finally.

CHAPTER FOUR

ARES

It was late afternoon, and I hiked my bag higher on my shoulder as I left the stadium. It was a rare day that practice ended early for some coaching meetings, and I’d thought I could catch up on homework and sleep. I just needed one day where I wasn’t pulled in too many directions.

My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen. All my hopes for having a relaxing night crashed and burned when I saw Mom’s name. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Oh, Ares. Thank God you answered. My meeting will be over soon, but not quickly enough. I can’t get out of work yet, and Preston has done it again.”

Dammit. “The school called?”What has my little miscreant nephew done now?

“They did. I’m supposed to go there immediately and talk to his teacher. I don’t know what he’s done other than that he pulled a prank on his teacher. Could you please go to his school and handle it? Then knock some sense into that boy?”

I could hear the frustration and stress in Mom’s voice, and it made my heart clench—for her and Preston. He was dealing with his pain—but in the wrong way because hewas putting way too much on Mom. It only reinforced that I had to step in, regardless of what I’d had planned. “Yeah, I’ll go. Where am I supposed to be? The headmaster’s office?”

“No. His teacher just said to go to her classroom.”

Mom rattled off the classroom number and said she would inform the school I was on my way in her stead. We hung up after that. I got into my car and headed to the school, hating hearing the strain in her voice.

The week had been a lot, from the news in Coach’s office to Preston’s rebellion on Monday night and dinner with him and Mom on Tuesday. At that dinner, she’d pulled me aside and confessed that she was at her wit’s end. Preston, sullen and unengaged, had just left the table to do his homework, and Mom had poured herself a large glass of wine then slumped on the couch beside me.

“I don’t know what to do, Ares,” she’d said. “I love Preston, but he keeps getting into trouble.” She took a hearty sip of her one and only glass of wine for the night, her eyes wide and overwhelmed. “And I’m at a loss about how to handle him. I’m fifty-seven years old. I don’t have the energy I had even ten years ago.”

“You’re doing a great job, Mom.” I patted her arm, at a loss for what to say. My nephew had been pushing the envelope since my older sister, Iris, and her husband had died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

“I’m not.” She set her wine down and buried her face in her hands. “On top of Preston’s rebellion, his grades are slipping, and he’s hanging out with the wrong crowd. I feel like I’m losing him. I honestly don’t know what else to do to get through to him.”

“It’ll be okay. I talked to him, and I’m sure his teacher will help too.” I pulled her in for a hug, annoyed with Preston for making her worry so much.

“I don’t know about that. I found used spray paint cans in his backpack, and I have no idea what he might have defaced.”

I’d reassured her as much as I could, but damn, my nephew was struggling. I wished I could be around more to help. And I tried. As often as I could carve out time, I did whatever was possible to lighten her load and spend time with P—like going to his school when she couldn’t. I’d stayed for as long as I could that night, making sure she felt better, then I’d had a brief word with P before I’d left.

But as one day faded into the next, my responsibilities only grew heavier.

I had my personal issues, too, and they were bleeding into football. Some of the guys on the team who usually rode the bench gave me side-eyes. Most of my teammates had teased me mercilessly about the sex tape—but that was to be expected. I couldn’t do much about it except ride it out. Kylian mentioned he could get his lawyer involved with the school, making them work harder to protect their student athletes and remove the video from the site. But I didn’t need to make any more waves, so I’d turned down his help. It meant a lot, though. He and Liam had my back. There wasn’t anyone else I trusted, not fully.

When I pulled into the parking lot at Linwood Prep, I parked then hurried to where Mom had directed me. It wasn’t hard to find, as I’d also attended the high school.

I found my fourteen-year-old nephew sitting outside what I assumed from his text was the English classroom. I sat on the second chair by the door and elbowed him. “What happened?”

He shrugged, a small, mischievous smirk curving his lips. “It was just a prank on a substitute teacher. Normal stuff.”

This kid.“You’ll have to be more specific.”

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