Page 37 of Home Run Fiancé
“Rhys? You okay?” There’s no noise in the background now. He sounds fairly calm, but I don’t even care if he’s still mad at me. I’m his sister. He’ll eventually get over it. What I won’t get over is Jake. Not right now. Not for a long time.
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah. Fine. Totally fine with being accused of something I would never do and then seeing my fiancé has already moved on and made me the laughing stock of the internet. Doing just great. How are you?”
There’s a long pause.
“Wow, first Jake, and now you. What’s with all the anger and negativity?”
I pop my eyes open. “Negativity? That’s real great. So you’re taking his side now? Thanks for that, brother dearest.”
“Okay, hold on. What are you even talking about?”
I throw my hand in the air. Asher can be so dense sometimes. “Jake thinks I tipped off the press about his meeting with Bobby, right?”
“Well…he may have intimated—”
“In other words, yes. He believes I’d do something that awful and instead of explaining to him I never would, you questioned me. I don’t care if Jake and I are only pretending to be engaged, you would think he’d be mature enough to come ask me himself before he just believes the worst in me. Don’t you think?”
“Um, well, yeah, when you say it like that.” Asher tries to backtrack and pacify like he always does.
“And then, because he thinks I did this horrible thing, he goes out to lunch with another woman and the paparazzi catch a picture of them together, making me look like an idiot. Again, not a single solitary word from Jake.” I’m up off the couch, fuming, readying to start a fight. In the back of my head, I know it’s not Asher’s fault, but he’s the only one on the phone, so he’s taking the brunt of it.
“I’ll just tell Jake you didn’t do it. That’ll fix things. We can deny the lunch was anything and then you two can be seen out and about all in love and the press will back off. Easy peasy.” Asher sounds proud of himself.
“Ha!” I smile maniacally. “You think I would have anything to do with that jerk face now? Please!”
There’s another pause.
“Wait. Why are you so mad? I mean, it wasn’t cool for him to blame you, but you’re still going to get paid for helping him land that Sliders contract. So what’s the big deal?”
That knocks the wind out of my sails and pushes the smile right off my face. “He got the contract?”
Asher’s tone turns cheery. “Yeah, came through yesterday and he signed it this morning. It’s official. They’ll do a press release announcing everything right before tonight’s game. He’ll play one last time in LA and then he’s off.”
I sit back down on the couch, completely heartbroken. That’s it. It’s over. Jake won’t need me to pretend to be his fiancée any longer. He won’t take my calls, nor will I see him again, so what chance do I have of convincing him I didn’t sell him out? He’s going to forever believe I was just like his ex-girlfriend, the one who used him for his fame. The sting of rejection turns into a lancing pain that shoots out from my chest and renders me immobile.
“Rhys??” I hear my name shouted from my cell phone, where I apparently dropped it on the couch cushion.
I pick it back up, but can’t speak. My throat closes off and I take deep breaths to hold back the sobs. I knew I had feelings for Jake, but I had no idea until this moment I had actually, one hundred percent, fallen in love with him.
“Rhys? Are you okay? Rhys!”
“Yeah…” I croak out, the first tears dropping down my cheeks.
“What’s going on? Are youcrying?” He sounds distressed, maybe even as distressed as me. I know he hates it when I cry.
“Y-yes-s.” My body shakes with each sob. I try to hold them back, but a few slip through and I know Asher can hear them.
“Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming over.” And then he hangs up on me.
I put down the phone and curl up on the couch, my finger absentmindedly stroking the band of my engagement ring. Pulling my sweater over me, I bring my knees up to my chest and let loose. I haven’t cried since my parents up and moved on my birthday two years ago, leaving me alone and floundering. I feel just as alone today, knowing once again, the only person there for me is my older brother. Is it really that hard to love me?
The crying continues until I hear a knock on my door sometime later and then Asher lets himself in with the key I gave him for emergencies when I moved in. He rushes over to me, grabbing a box of tissues on his way. I mop my face and blow my nose before sitting up. I pray I’m all cried out.
“Hey…” he says softly. He rubs his hand on my back, which almost makes me start crying again. Really, how much more can my puffy, red eyes take?
“Hey,” I whisper.
His face is comical. Like he’d rather be anywhere than here, with a hysterical sister, but he’s toughing it out for my sake.
