Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
boston
I drop my barbell as Forker sits on the bench next to mine, shirtless and glistening with sweat. He runs a towel over his short hair and face, and drapes it over his bare shoulder.
It’s been two weeks since that shit happened with his sister and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Lemmy had asked me to go out for dinner because she wanted to update me on what happened last year.
She’s been trying to figure out who keeps leaking shit about the team to the press.
She was the only one who didn’t think it was Irina, the woman who tried to ruin Forker’s life last season.
She’s somehow managed to convince me that it wasn’t her, too.
We met up to talk about it, but never got the chance, because Ariana Forkerro was being berated by some piece of shit in the same restaurant.
I am not entirely convinced I wouldn’t have hit him if Fork hadn’t shown up.
I saw the look on her face. The shame. That woman is usually a beacon of confidence, but she looked like a shell of herself as he judged her across those ramekins of creme brulee. Murder suddenly didn’t seem like too volatile a crime.
I didn’t miss the way she studied Lemmy and me all night, either.
I don’t know why I made it clear, multiple times, that there wasn’t anything romantic going on between the two of us.
I did it casually, asking Lemmy if that date with the investment banker went well, not sitting too close to her or touching her in any way—however I could drive the point home.
It’s been bothering me that I acted like that, because I was making it clear to Ariana, Forker’s fucking sister, that I was not tied down.
What is wrong with me?
I tell her that flirting with me is out of line all the time, but I don’t seem to want it to stop, either.
I have no clue why, and I need to sort that out immediately.
Ariana toned down her usual antics because she was clearly unsure about the Lemmy of it all.
Yet, in those moments where she let her eyes linger, I ate it up with a look of warning as if I wasn’t begging for her to ask me an inappropriate question again.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
Forkerros really need to stop asking me questions.
I wipe my towel across the back of my neck. I pulled my hair back because it’s much more comfortable to sweat with it out of the way, and Forker already called me a shih tzu twice. He also started barking at me between sets. He hates the bun. Bald ass loser.
“Are you bringing a date to Lowesy’s wedding?” he asks.
Not the question that I was expecting.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it. I didn’t RSVP with one.” I grab my water bottle and take a swig, my chest already sore from the bench press. I upped my weight today and I’m going to suffer for the next three days because of it.
“You aren’t bringing Lemmy?” he asks, cocking a brow.
For fuck’s sake. I’d love it if he dropped this.
He’s so insistent on Lemmy and me getting together, so sure that we already have.
He hasn’t shut up about this in months and it’s starting to irk me.
Lemmy and I haven’t told anybody about the gray area of our friendship.
It’s nobody’s business, and we don’t want people looking deeper into what this is.
We’re just really good friends who fuck when we need to.
If Fork caught wind of it, he’d probably pay a witch on the internet to do a spell to convince us to get married.
“Why would I be bringing Lemmy?” I ask carefully.
“Don’t you guys do that kind of thing?”
“Lemmy is invited. Separately. Can you hop off that idea, Fork? It’s fucking weird.”
“So, you’ve never slept with her?” he asks, his stupid sparkly eyes burning into mine to try and catch a lie.
“My god, will you drop it?” I groan, shaking my head. Let it die, buddy. You’re never going to know the answer to that question.
That we have. Many times. Only when we needed it.
Scattered, rare moments, but we’re just friends.
I’d jump in front of a bullet for her, and she’d bury anyone who fucked with me.
The sex was inevitable. Put two broken humans together, and they’re going to try to start fixing each other at some point.
Sometimes, the both of us get lonely. Lonely people understand lonely people.
“Fine, you fucking weirdo. I tell you when I sleep with people.” He glares at me, looking hurt.
“That’s a ‘you’ problem, you disrespectful, walking red flag.”
He smirks, though he tries not to. “So, Lemmy isn’t your plus one?”
How many more times can he ask that question before I’m allowed to smack him?
“No.”
“Great!” he says, clapping his hands together. He leans forward, smiling like I fell into some kind of trap. “Then I have a favour to ask.”
I know it’s going to be a bad idea. I am completely aware of that before he even opens his mouth. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me right now.
So, I answer before he even asks. “No.”
His smile falls. “Come on.”
I shake my head, yanking the towel off my bench. “I don’t even want to know.”
“At least let me ask,” he begs.
“Not interested,” I say, sliding back onto the bench to return to my sets.
“Can you put Ari down as your plus one?”
I shoot back up so quickly that I almost send the barbell down onto my neck.
Readjusting it, I straighten, looking at him in disbelief.
Did he really—there is no fucking way that he just asked me to bring his little sister as my date to Lowesy’s wedding.
His baby sister? The one that he has gotten arrested for multiple times?
“I don’t trust leaving her here alone. She hasn’t been acting like herself.
I can’t go to Canada for a whole week and enjoy myself if she’s out of my sight.
I don’t know what’s going on with her and I can’t be sure who she’ll bring in and out of my place, nor will I get a moment of peace if I don’t know what she’s doing. ”
I think of Jared. Of that guy, Paul. I think about the scene at the restaurant, how the cracks in her facade were starting to show, and how Forker told us that she’s been stumbling home in the middle of the night after dates with those kinds of guys.
I stare at him. This feels like a trick. “You want me to bring your sister as my date to Lowesy’s wedding?”
“No, just give her your plus one spot. You’re a groomsman. She’ll be at a separate table. I just don’t want to ask Lowesy to invite her this late in the game. It’s not my day and Arden said that it would be rude. I’m trying not to be weird about this.”
“It’s weird that you’re hiring me to be her date,” I point out.
“Woah! Let me be clear, I will not be paying you for this favour. No money will be exchanging hands. And again, not her date. Her plus one. Just give her your extra ticket.”
“It’s not a concert, Fork.”
“You know what I mean,” he groans with an exasperated breath. “Look, I can’t ask any of the other guys because they’ll take it and run with it, and I don’t want them getting any ideas. She’s still my little sister. You’re my brother. I know you’ll be a gentleman. I don’t have to worry about you.”
I feel a prick of guilt about the thoughts I’ve been having about this little sister in question.
How I want her to continue to flirt with me.
How she asks me the most aggressive questions, bluntly as all hell, and it thrills the hell out of me.
He trusts me. As his brother. If this isn’t enough of a warning to stay in my lane, I don’t know what is.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see if I can change my invite with Lowesy.”
I’ll behave.
Forker smiles, and it’s not that cocky, arrogant grin that I’m used to. It’s a grateful one, and it tells me how much easier his life is going to be if I do this for him.
“Everything okay, man?” I ask.
He sighs, his smile softening. He leans back on the bench, wincing when his abs constrict.
“My dad’s just putting her through hell over something she’s already putting herself through hell for, and she won’t let me intervene.
I hate watching her punish herself. She does it in the worst fucking ways. ”
“She’s a smart girl,” I remind him, and he nods, like he knows that. “She’ll figure it out.”
“The way she figures shit out is always the problem,” he grumbles, moving to stand.
“If one thing goes wrong, she self-implodes and destroys everything else around her, just to prove to herself that she’s still in control.
It’s hard to manage, Boss, and even harder to watch.
So, thanks for doing this. I’ll buy you a drink at the wedding. ”
He starts to waltz off back to his area of the gym.
“It’s an open bar!” I call out.
He spins, flashing that grin that I know and love. “It’s the thought that counts, Boss Man!”