Page 28 of Faking the Shot
“The fake fiancé thing,” he explains. “I would’ve assumed he’d hire someone . . . less close.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure how to respond. My cheeks warm slightly as I glance at Kaden, who looks like he’s debating whether to step in or let me fend for myself.
“You’ll be fine, though,” his dad continues kindly, his tone reassuring. “If Jacob trusts you with something this important, I’m sure you’ll handle it beautifully.”
“Thanks,” I say, some of the tension in my shoulders easing under his words. It’s a small relief in an otherwise overwhelming day.
“I told you this wouldn’t stay a secret,” Kaden mutters as he steps back into the room, handing me one of the glasses. “My parents usually know everything.”
“I prefer to call it being well-informed,” his dad says with a small smile. “But don’t worry. We won’t interfere. It’s something John and I had to do back in the ‘80s—pretend to be friends while dating other people.”
Right. The Crawfords. I’ve been reading about the family ever since I was assigned to handle Kaden’s public relations. John Crawford and Mathieu Laferty’s story is practically legendary. They met as teenagers at a summer sports camp—John, the rising football star, and Mathieu, already a promising hockey player. Their friendship became a cornerstone of their lives, but the truth behind it remained hidden for years.
By the mid-2000s, they finally came out as a couple, making headlines as one of the first openly gay power duos in professional sports. By then they were retired. Before then,they’d carefully maintained the façade of platonic friendship, even while building a shared life behind closed doors. It was a risky move in an era when the sports world wasn’t exactly welcoming.
John became a household name in football, while Mathieu dominated the hockey world. Together, they created not just a legacy in sports but also a family. Six children, to be exact. Killion and Kaden, the twins who couldn’t be more different; Leif, one of the best goalies in the league; Greyson, the youngest star in professional hockey; Lucian, who’s currently quarterbacking somewhere; and Ella, their only daughter, known to everyone as “Scottie” for reasons no one, including the internet, can explain.
The Crawfords are more than a family—they’re an empire. Their influence spans sports, business, entertainment, and charity, with a legacy as impressive as their achievements.
“Well, I appreciate you stepping in,” Mathieu says, his tone warm but measured.
“It’s . . .” I falter, the words catching in my throat. What do I even say? If I don’t pull this off, I’ll probably get fired, but I can’t say that—not in front of Kaden. He already thinks I have nothing to lose. I have the upper hand here. Better to keep him believing that. “My pleasure, of course. We’re here to help however we can.”
Mathieu nods seemingly satisfied. “I’ll leave you to the rules. Just make sure to keep things simple. The simpler it looks, the easier it is to make it feel real.”
“Of course,” I reply with a polite smile.
He turns his attention to Kaden. “We’ll have lunch at noon. Your pop will be here by then. Scottie might join us, but the rest are too busy to even call me.”
“Everyone is training or has a game, but we call often,” Kaden mutters, his jaw tightening.
“Sure, when you’re in trouble,” Mathieu counters smoothly. He gives Kaden a long look, the kind that only a parent can deliver. “Let me know if you want to run some scrimmages later today—I don’t want you skipping practice just because you had to take a day off. Being a Barracuda means more than being on any other team.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” Kaden grumbles under his breath. “I should’ve stayed in San Jose.”
“You didn’t have to move teams,” Mathieu says, his tone calm but firm.
“It’s done,” Kaden replies.
Mathieu’s eyes narrow slightly. “Well, then prove that you’re there because you deserve it—not because someone handed it to you.”
“No one handed it to me.” Kaden snaps, his voice rising. “I worked fucking hard for that contract and that spot.”
“Then fucking show it, Kaden,” Mathieu fires back, his tone harder now, but still controlled. “This has gone on long enough. I get it—you have anxiety. People can be too much. But you need to work through it. Try therapy, son.”
“I’ll think about it,” Kaden mumbles, his tone flat.
Mathieu lets out a long sigh, his face softening again as he glances between us. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
With that, he turns and strides out of the room, leaving the air charged with tension. I sip my orange juice, still standing, the awkwardness hanging between us.
“This is not going to work,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.
“It’ll work,” Kaden says, not even bothering to open his eyes as he leans back on the couch like he hasn’t just been chewed out. “Stop overthinking.”
I glare at him, biting back the retort sitting on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I perch on the farthest edge of the couch, my juice glass clutched in both hands like it’s my last shred of sanity.
Sure. Whatever you say, Kaden Fucking Crawford.
