Page 27 of Play Fake
My head snaps up. “What?”
Her smirk is pure trouble. “Beck. The linebacker. You’ve been sitting next to him all week.”
I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “He’s…nice. That’s all.”
“Mm-hm.” Ava stretches out, smug as ever. “We’ll see.”
I throw a piece of popcorn at her, which she catches midair and eats like she planned it. We dissolve into laughter, the movie starting up in the background as the tension from the day finally slips off my shoulders.
Half an hour into the movie, we’ve both demolished too much popcorn, and Ava’s stretched out sideways on the couch, her feet in my lap. After my phone goes off for the fifth time, she mutes the TV during a lull in the action, turning her head toward me.
“Are you ever going to answer that?” she asks.
I look down at my phone, seeing three more missed calls and twelve unanswered texts since I last checked it thirty minutes ago.
“No, didn’t really plan to.” I shrug before deciding to just turn it off. “Zach’s been blowing up my texts since I’ve sent every one of his calls to voicemail. He even sent me an email, swapping from ‘I’m sorry’ to ‘fuck you’ in the same email. The other calls are just my lovely parents, trying to push me right back to that dumpster fire.”
Tossing my phone to the table, I keep going. “They only care about the outward appearance. They haven’t asked me one single time if I’m okay with what happened or evenwhywe are done. I’m exhausted with the fake niceties and such. So, no. I won’t be answering.”
“You go, girl. I’m proud of you. Subject change before your wrath ignites more,” she says, voice gentler now. “How are my little chaos monsters at the center?”
A smile tugs at my lips instantly. “Exhausting. Wonderful. Same as always.”
She grins. “Give me the rundown. Who’s driving you crazy this week?”
I laugh softly, picking at the seam of the blanket. “Mia refuses to nap unless someone reads or sings to her first. Today she made me go throughGoodnight Moonthree times before she finally crashed.”
“Classic Mia.” Ava’s eyes warm.
“And Jaden’s been drawing nonstop. He had me tape one of his pictures up by the cubbies yesterday. Told me it was ‘so people know where he belongs.’” My throat tightens a little, the way it always does when I think about how much these kids crave stability.
Ava nudges me with her toes. “And our favorite?”
“We can’t have favorites, Ava.” I roll my eyes, but the smile lingers. “But Caleb is doing well. He followed me around all morning with his toy dinosaur, roaring at anyone who came too close. Said he was protecting me.”
“Four years old and already your knight in shining armor.”
“Pretty much.” I sink deeper into the cushions, my chest aching with both fondness and the weight of knowing what waits for them when they leave the center. “They’re resilient, though. Braver than most adults I know.”
Ava studies me, her expression softening. “They’re lucky to have you.”
I shake my head, embarrassed. “I’m just a volunteer.”
“Yeah, but you show up. That alone makes a huge difference.”
The room goes quiet for a beat, the muted movie flickering across the screen. I let her words settle, the knot in my chest easing a little.
Then she unpauses the movie and shoves another handful of popcorn in her mouth, deliberately breaking the moment. “Now, hush and stop over thinking, or I’m switching it to a rom-com.”
I laugh, settling back against the couch, grateful for her in more ways than I can count.
As the movie plays and Ava hums happily beside me, I can’t help thinking about the kids again—about Mia’s stubbornness, Jaden’s drawings, Caleb’s tiny, fierce protection.
They deserve steady ground beneath their feet. Safety. Someone who won’t leave. I want to be that for them someday. To give them what I’m still trying to find for myself.
10
BECK
