Chapter 4
JO
Mamaw yanks Nico forward, and he walks like a baby giraffe, all stiff legs and craned neck swooping side to side, obviously confused. His bewildered focus eventually lands on me, and I’d like to speak to him, but all of my words have literally evaporated from my brain.
I expected my mother to show. But I did not expect her to bring my grandmother, sister, brother, and Waylon. Of all people, I really did not want him here, seeing me like this.
Being from a small town in West Virginia, my mother thinks Philadelphia has serial killers on every corner and drugs in every school.
She didn’t want me doing my “little art projects” and certainly didn’t want me moving away.
This accident has proven all her theories correct—that Philadelphia is a hellhole.
Sure, it has its problems, like any other big city, but I’ve found my place here, and I don’t know how to convince her that I don’t need to move home. If it weren’t for the fact that she believes I’m engaged, she’d force me in the car right this second.
So what do I do now that I’ve woven my web of lies a little too big, and I’ve caught myself a giant blond fly who wears a stunned expression? I’m not sure.
“He’s handsome,” Mamaw coos, touching Nico like he’s her fiancé.
“Finally!” Mom hugs him. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Josephine never tells us anything about you.”
For his part, Nico accepts the embrace, woodenly patting my mother’s back, his eyes on me, blinking rapidly.
I still don’t move. Still have no thoughts in my head.
“I think you’re choking him,” Lizzie says with a trace of laughter. Almost like she can’t believe it.
Me neither.
Danny huffs. “Thought he wasn’t real.”
Of course he would think that. My older brother was one of my worst bullies. There is no way he believes I’m engaged to be married.
He’s right, but he still doesn’t have to be such a dick.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Waylon, back up to the door, taking it all in, and my eyes sting with tears.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
It started simply. Stupidly. One date my mother wouldn’t stop hounding me about even though I was stood up, so instead of telling her the truth, I told her a white lie that it went well.
And kept going well.
Well enough that I let her conjure up whatever story she needed to tell herself to keep her off my back and let me live in peace. Having an imaginary fiancé just so happened to do the trick.
“Aren’t you going to kiss your fiancé?” Lizzie asks, and I shoot my gaze to my sister. She wears a know-it-all smirk. She doesn’t believe it either.
“Yes! Give her a little kiss,” Mamaw instructs happily, pushing Nico toward me.
He practically stumbles into the side of the hospital bed, and I catch him, my hands on his chest, hard-packed muscle beneath the Iron T-shirt he’s wearing.
His throat bobs on a swallow as he stares at me, clearly waiting for some explanation.
Except, I don’t have one and offer up a smile instead, my lips curled over my teeth.
Really, it’s more of a grimace. A silent apology.
“Jo?” he whispers, and I fist my fingers into the cotton of his shirt as if he can solve this problem for me.
His blue eyes drift back and forth between my own, and I don’t know what he finds in them—aside from hysteria—but whatever it is makes him sit, his thigh against mine, placing his fingers over mine.
“Why don’t we give them a moment?” I hear Mamaw suggest, and Mom agrees.
“Yes, one minute for the lovebirds, and then we’ll be back in. Okay, Buck?”
I don’t answer, but she ushers everyone out of the room anyway, leaving Nico and me alone.
Once the door is closed, he removes the backward baseball cap from his head and stands with an audible breath, forcing me to release my grip on him so he can turn in a circle before quietly yelling at me, “What the fuck!”
“I know. I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t—I don’t even—I just—”
“Seriously, Jo. Fiancé? What the hell?”
I flail my hands for a few seconds before simply letting them drop. “It’s unfortunate timing.”
“You think?” He slouches into the chair next to my bed, setting a bag on the table.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner.”
“Dinner?” I repeat because nothing makes sense right now.
“The team’s chef made Mexican tonight. He does these bomb chicken taquitos with homemade hot sauce. I snagged some for us. Rice and beans too.”
“You brought me dinner?”
He shrugs. “Figured it was probably better than whatever they’re serving you here.”
That’s when I crumple. This man, who doesn’t know me from a hole in the wall, has been to the hospital to visit me twice, cared enough to basically purchase me an entire home goods store, and provided me with a dinner that I never even asked for.
While my family stands outside, probably gossiping and talking behind my back about how it all happened.
I don’t know how to handle any of it.
Nico, my family, this situation I’ve found myself in.
“I’m so sorry,” I hiccup, and he swipes his palms over my cheeks, shushing me.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He genuinely smiles at that. “Probably that your family thinks we’re getting married.”
I moan, dropping my head, and he leans into me, wrapping his arm around my middle, hand soothing along my spine.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I admit, alarmingly honest. Maybe it’s the concussion. Or maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t sprinted out the door, leaving me to handle this all on my own. Or maybe I simply trust him; I don’t know. But when he asks me to start from the beginning, I do.
“That’s my mom, grandmother, brother, sister, and my sister’s boyfriend. They came here because I need to be rescued.”
“From me?” Nico guesses, and when I lift my head, he wipes under my nose with the hem of his T-shirt. It’s sweetly endearing and completely embarrassing that he’s watching me fall apart.
I sniffle. “You’re the only reason they haven’t hauled me away yet.”
He lightly drags his knuckle across my temple, under the bandage. “Did you tell them what happened? That I knocked you out?”
“I told her I had an accident at work, and my mom thinks it’s a sign. The city is too dangerous.”
“Or just me,” he says with a grin that could incinerate panties.
When I roll my eyes, he releases a soft, understanding laugh that calms me.
Because at least he’s not freaking out. He’s taking this all surprisingly well.
Especially when he settles in next to me on the bed, leaning back against the raised mattress so we’re shoulder to shoulder.
“Okay, draw the connection for me because I’m not getting it. ”
“My family doesn’t want me living here. They believe every bad thing they’ve ever heard about the city and don’t believe anything good I’ve ever told them. Plus, I’m unmarried, which…you know…”
He frowns. “No. I don’t know…”
I wave at myself, my greasy hair and face bare of makeup. Though I’m comfy in the clothes Nico provided for me in one of his gift bags, I don’t exactly have men lining up to date me, let alone marry me. “I’m… Never mind.”
“No.” Nico urges me to go on, tugging on my hand, his fingers folding around mine. I’m not sure if he’s always so tactile or not, but I don’t hate it. I really do think the combination of the concussion and Nico’s attractiveness is short-circuiting my brain. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It started last year,” I say, gaze settled on my knuckle, where he rubs his thumb back and forth. “I was supposed to go on a date, and I got stood up. Instead of telling my mom the truth, I lied and told her it went fine so she’d stop asking about it.”
Nico hums, drawing my chin up, my attention on his face, to his eyes alight with understanding. “But she didn’t stop asking, and suddenly, you have a fiancé.”
I nod, blinking back the wetness seeping into my eyes again. Because this is stupid. I am stupid.
“And I walked in the door…your fiancé.”
I bite into my lip, nodding again, before mumbling a quiet, “I’m so sorry.”
He stares blankly at the wall, his cheeks puffed up with air, slowly releasing it like a pinprick in a balloon. When he’s done, he does it one more time, and I rub my fingers over my forehead, where a tension headache has formed.
If only I had the guts to stand up to them, to all of them. To my mom for never believing in me. To my dad for never paying attention to me. To my brother for being an asshole. To my sister for being everything I’m not. Waylon…
God. If only I could explain how their words have torn me down so long and often that living here away from them has made me happier. I’ve become a better person, and the little confidence I have gained here so easily slips away when I’m confronted by them. Especially in person.
My stomach churns, thinking of admitting the truth. Letting them know it’s all been a farce. Giving them exactly what they want. Proving them right. I am nothing.
Ugly.
Weird.
Incapable.
My chin quivers, and I pull my knees up, hiding my face as I apologize to Nico over and over. “It’s my fault you got dragged into this,” I rasp. “You can leave. You don’t have to stay here.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere,” he says eventually. “Besides, we have to figure out what you want to tell them.”
I wipe at my face and turn to look over everything he’s brought me, the food and giant teddy bear.
The clothes and lotions and socks. The snacks and gift baskets.
Then I take in his handsome face. If it were anyone else, I might find humor in the circumstances, being caught in a lie like this with a man like him.
“When did I pop the question? Because I did do it, all right? This wasn’t some kind of situation where you asked me or we sort of just agreed to it. I made a big deal out of it when I asked. It was romantic, with your favorite music playing in the background, and you—”
“What?”
Nico stops. “What?”
“What are you talking about, popping the question?”
“We have to get our story straight.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my hands up in the air. “I don’t understand.”
“If we’re going to pretend to be engaged, we need to be on the same page about the details.”
“No, that’s not… I can’t… You are… What?”
He nods a few times, repositioning himself so he’s even closer to me, bowing his head as if imparting sacred secrets into my ear. “I don’t know how much you know about me or hockey or the Iron, but my position with the team is a bit precarious right now.”
“Precarious?”
“Yeah. I was basically told I need to show the front office I’m not a manwhore or they’re trading me.”
I don’t know what I’m more shocked by, the fact that he knows the word precarious or that he could be traded for having a lot of sex. When I inform him of this, he laughs good-naturedly. “I might look dumb, but I’m not. Or, at least, not the dumbest on the team.”
“And you think by pretending to be engaged to me, you’ll keep your spot on the roster?”
“Yeah, this is a win-win situation for both of us.”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “It’s ridiculous. All of this. We can’t pretend.”
“Why not?”
I scoff. “Why not? Nico, you’re a famous hockey player, and I’m…nobody.”
“You’re my fiancée,” he says, with so much sincerity, I almost believe him.
“I am not, and we can’t do this. I can’t keep lying.”
“Why not? It’s only for a few months.” When I shake my head in disbelief, he dips his chin in acquiescence. “Okay, maybe the season.”
“That’s not any better!”
“Shh, babe,” he coos, hand on my head, the tips of his fingers threading through my hair, his thumb gliding under the bandage covering the cut he gave me. “Don’t want you busting a stitch.”
My jaw hangs open at his blasé attitude. Like this is a game. It’s not. It’s my life. His career! If he thinks this is going to work, he’s truly lost his mind.
“This isn’t funny, Nico.”
He squints one eye, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. “A little bit.”
“Not at all. You need to leave.”
“Not yet, mama.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You prefer babe?”
“I prefer you to—”
“Hello, lovebirds!” Mom sings, charging back into the room, followed by Lizzie and Waylon then Mamaw and Danny. “Time to meet the mysterious fiancé!”
Nico winks at me then takes my uninjured hand, lacing his fingers through mine, whispering, “We got this.”