Hoax and Kisses (When in Pine Falls #1)

Prologue

ZOEY

Six months earlier

T he door slams, startling me from my deep study of the latest blueprints for the new Alberta resort.

Blinking, I glance at the clock. One a.m.

Shit.

Jake appears, shuffling into the kitchen, and tosses his keys on the counter.

“How was dinner?”

“Fine.” It’s all I get from him in response.

I quirk a brow, my focus drifting back to my screen. “Just fine? How were Sarah and Tom? Lauren was there too?”

“It was Tom’s birthday. Of course she was. Everybody was there. Well. Not everybody , obviously.”

I peel my attention away from my computer and set it on Jake. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his black hair tousled. His eyes are glossy, like he’s had a drink or two too many.

Unease curls in my stomach.

“Corey sent me the plans tonight,” I say. “I had to approve them for tomorrow.”

He drags a hand down his face, jaw tightening. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“I know. But my dad’s breathing down my neck about this new expansion in Calgary, and the team is waiting for me to—”

I snap my mouth shut. It’s pointless to explain. Nothing I could say would excuse my absence. Again.

With a sigh, I rub at my temples. I haven’t been the best girlfriend these past few months. Work’s been stressful, consuming my days and nights, and sometimes my weekends.

But in my defense, Jake knew what he signed up for when we started dating two years ago.

“I’m sorry I missed dinner,” I say softly. “You know I can’t just say ‘fuck it’ when something urgent comes up. Even if it means missing out on a night with your friends.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, god forbid you actually show interest in the people I care about.”

Ouch . I reel back a fraction. “What does that mean?”

“You’re never here!” he explodes, his voice punching through the room. “How many times have we talked about this? Nothing is changing, Zoey. You just… You work and work, and you miss everything. Dinners. Dates. But you never miss me . I’m tired of this shit.”

The words pummel me like physical blows. I hold his gaze, and he doesn’t let go either, as if the first one to look away will lose the fight.

“I’m tired of arguing over this.” I work to keep my voice steady. “We’ve been doing this for months. But I’m here right now. I’m listening. I’m present.”

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping, his arms falling limp at his sides.

My hands twitch toward him. I want to get up, wrap them around his waist, and tell him he does matter to me. But his gaze catches the motion, and he takes a deliberate step back. Swallowing hard, I dig my nails into my palms and keep my feet rooted to the floor.

“You’re not, though,” he says, his glassy eyes throwing daggers at me.

“You’re not present, and you haven’t been for a long time.

I’ve been trying to make this work, but most days, you barely listen to me.

You nod and hum, but you’re not paying attention.

When was the last time you asked me a question about my day or what’s going on in my life? ”

Heart squeezing, I press my lips together. I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he throws, exasperated. “I can’t pretend like this is enough. That what you’re willing to give me is enough.”

Another punch. It takes everything I have in me, years of PR training and honing my public persona, to keep from showing how easily he hit his target.

And that’s sad, isn’t it? That I won’t let him see my softer side.

As if he’d find some twisted satisfaction in my vulnerability.

Sticks and stones never broke my bones, but emotional cracks will, and I can’t have that.

“I’ve never lied to you about the importance of my job.” I keep my emotions tightly wrapped up, my tone sharp and dry. “Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You used to find my ambition and drive sooo sexy.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “When you still made time for me. For the two of us. When was the last time we went out? When was the last time we—”

He cuts himself off, the words dying on his tongue as he looks away. But his silence is loaded with what he doesn’t say. When was the last time you touched me? When was the last time we had sex ?

It’s the same conversation over and over, the same accusations.

I’m exhausted. And yes, our sex life has been… well, nonexistent lately, but isn’t that how it goes for everyone once the honeymoon phase is over?

“You’re not being fair. I know our relationship hasn’t been perfect, but it’s a rougher patch. If you could just—”

“It’s never been great, and you know it,” he says before I have a chance to, what? Beg him to give us more time?

“I've always felt like I'm the only one who craved intimacy,” he continues. “It’s been a one-way street from the start. You don’t even know what I like.” He takes a step closer, and I shrink back.

“What turns me on, Zoey, huh? Are you even capable of answering that question? No, how about this. Do you at least know what turns you on?” His cruel laughter echoes in every corner of my brain.

“Of course you don’t. You’d have to think about what brings you pleasure outside of your work to figure that one out. ”

“Wow, Jake. Very classy.” I swallow, the knot in my chest tightening with each breath.

I need to pull myself together. So I straighten and lift my chin.

“I’m not the only one who’s stopped trying.

You think it’s only me shutting you out, but what about you?

” I arch a brow. “What about all the times I’ve initiated conversation, intimacy, any of it, and you were mentally checked out?

Always on your phone, texting god knows who. ”

His eyes flick wide, and a wave of dread washes over me. He smooths his expression quickly, but it’s too late. The truth is out, and I’ve just nailed it.

The air shifts, like a subtle crack in the tension that’s been simmering between us since he walked through the door.

I cross my arms. “Who have you been texting?”

Jake scoffs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t been—”

“Please don’t insult me further,” I cut.

He leans against the wall behind him and sighs. “Lauren.”

Lauren .

Nausea rises at the sound of my best friend’s name on his lips. It lands on my chest with a thud, closing my throat another notch.

I swallow down the bitter taste, every muscle in my body strung tight. For a split second, I’m certain I misheard him.

But his contrite expression tells me I didn’t.

“Lauren?” My voice is too steady, too calm for the fire blazing inside me. “Really? You’re cheating on me with my best friend ?”

Jake exhales, slow and long, almost like he’s… exasperated ? “She’s my colleague too. And it’s not like that. It’s not what you think.”

Hackles rising, I pin him with my gaze. “Oh, yeah? Then please enlighten me. What is it like?”

I cross my legs and plant an elbow on the table, resting my chin on my knuckles. There. He’s got all my attention.

He glances away, fidgeting with something in his pocket. “It’s… we’re…” Finally, he looks at me, an apology in his eyes. “She’s been there for me. She knows what it’s like to…” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “To be with you.”

“Wow.” The word escapes me along with all the air in my lungs. Two breakups, then. “How long has this been going on for?”

Jake scrapes his fingers over his jaw. “Six months.”

I can’t stop the quick exhale that leaves me, or the tiny cracks that fissure at the edges of my heart. “Six months.”

The double betrayal is a sharp, deep cut, slicing through any hope I had left. I don’t know which one hurts more.

“Zoey, I’m so—”

I raise my hand. “You need to leave.”

Eyes widening, he takes a step forward. “It’s not like I’m—I didn’t—” He breaks off, as if his mind is swirling as out of control as mine is.

Though I doubt his thoughts are anywhere near the ones plaguing me. As I survey him, my brain reorganizes the pieces of our lives, molding a new reality, dismantling the past six months in search of a logical explanation to this fucking mess.

His shoulders sag. “I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did. It just… happened.”

I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? And what exactly happened , Jake?”

“I’m in love with her.”

The words reverberate in my skull like an echo that refuses to fade.

In love with her. Is that a fucking joke?

He takes another step toward me and puts his hands on my arms.

I hate that I let him. I hate that I don’t pull away.

“I didn’t—I didn’t plan for this. I never meant for it to—”

“You didn’t plan for it? Six months, Jake. Six months of lying, of sneaking around, of betraying my trust. Betraying me. And you think you can stand there and say you didn’t mean for it to happen ? That you didn’t plan for it ?”

His face falls, but an instant later, anger flares behind his eyes.

“You’re right. I have no excuse. But I won’t let you belittle me as if you’re a saint with no fault.

We’ve had problems since the day we met, but you refused to address them because, oh, surprise, you were too busy working .

None of this would have happened if you had just—”

My heart plummets in my chest and I free myself from his touch. “Oh, don’t you dare go there. Don’t you dare put your cowardice on me.”

Silence stretches between us. I replay the last two years, recalling all the times his head was buried in his phone, every smile he directed at his screen. I want to fucking throw up.

Jake doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. I’ve known him long enough to know I won’t get an apology out of him, and honestly, I don’t want one. What’s the point?

I take a step back, cold and empty.

“Zoey…”

“I’m done. We’re done. I want you to leave.” The words are like stones in my mouth, but I force them out anyway.

With a shake of his head, he snatches his jacket from the chair. “Yeah, we are done. Good luck, Zoey. I hope you find someone worth your time one day.”

I don’t look at him as he walks out. I refuse to give him that satisfaction. Only when the door closes after him do I let the tears roll down my cheeks.

The man I loved is gone. My best friend betrayed me. And all I’m left with is the wreckage of those relationships.

But if my father has taught me anything, it’s that our hardest moments only make us stronger. And nothing is ever torn down completely.

So I’ll take the night to be sad, to mourn those losses. To break his stuff and burn his clothes.

But tomorrow? Tomorrow, I’ll rebuild.