Page 114 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
She looks tired, focused, pulled in a hundred directions, and still somehow making space for all of them.
For my kids. For this life. For me.
I leave a fresh coffee on the counter with a sticky note that just says:You’re amazing. Don’t forget that.
Before I head out, I see a text from Greg:
Good luck tonight, man.
Then another, a few seconds later:
Also, how’s my sister holding up?
My thumb hovers over the screen. I know I need to tell him, and there’s no such thing as the perfect time. Now feels as good as any.
I grab my phone, lean against the counter, and hit call before I can overthink it.
“Hey,” Greg answers after a few rings. “You ready to smoke these guys again?”
“That’s the plan.”
We talk hockey for a minute before I clear my throat. “Listen… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
There’s a short pause, enough for me to picture him frowning on the other end. “Go on.”
“It’s about Ava.”
Another pause, longer this time. “What about her?”
“I care about her. More than I planned to. We’re… together.”
Silence. Not long, but long enough to make my grip tighten on the phone.
“So it’s not just for show anymore?” he says finally, voice low. “Not just a play to get Brad off her back?”
“No. Not for me.”
Another pause. Then: “You’re living under the same roof, you’re in the middle of a playoff run… what happens if it goes south?”
“It won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I exhale through my nose. “I know what you told me that night at my place. And I meant what I told you then — I’d never hurt her.”
There’s a faint shift in his tone, like he’s weighing every word. “She seems happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. I’ll give you that. But this isn’t just dating someone — it’s dating my little sister. And that means you don’t get to screw it up.”
“I won’t,” I say, steady.
A long breath on the other end. “All right. I’m trusting you here, Jackson. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” I repeat.
“Good. Now win your damn game.”
It’s not a full blessing, but it’s close enough.
Relief threads through the tension in my chest, loosening something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding onto. Greg didn’t make it easy, but at least it’s out there now.
