Chapter Three
Piper
Fourteen hours into Piper Quinn’s fake relationship, the internet had already accused her of cheating on a man she had never actually dated.
This felt ambitious, even by internet standards.
She stood behind the registration table at the Lake Briar youth skills clinic, staring at a post titled:
THE COOPER VALE AND PIPER QUINN TIMELINE DOES NOT ADD UP
The account had created a seven-slide presentation using photographs from the entire summer. In one, Emmett stood twenty feet behind her near the rental office. A bright red arrow pointed toward his face.
LOOK AT THE WAY HE IS WATCHING HER.
In another, Piper handed him a bottle of water after a charity scrimmage.
THIS WAS THREE WEEKS BEFORE HER brEAKUP.
The final slide showed the photograph Maren had posted the previous night. Piper leaned against Emmett’s chest while his arm circled her waist.
Someone had drawn a heart around his hand.
THE ENVELOPE WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT.
Piper lowered her phone.
The envelope had absolutely been an accident.
Probably.
Beckett had switched the labels, but he approached ordinary life like a man trying to improve a mediocre television season. His actions rarely qualified as evidence of anything beyond boredom and access to craft supplies.
“Are you reading another thread?” Maren asked.
Piper locked the screen.
“No.”
“You have your internet-investigation face.”
“I do not have one.”
“You narrow your eyes and hold the phone six inches from your nose.”
“That is my professional-concern face.”
“It is your conspiracy face.”
Piper glanced across the clinic area.
Twenty-four children rotated between shooting, passing, and goalie stations on the temporary sport court near the lake.
Nate and Griffin supervised the older group.
Ava helped several younger players decorate practice pucks at a shaded craft table.
Tyler had been assigned to equipment distribution after being explicitly banned from microphones.
Beckett had somehow acquired a whistle.
No one remembered giving it to him.
Emmett stood inside the portable goal at the far end of the court, teaching a small boy how to position his glove.
He wore black athletic shorts, a Ridgeview shirt, and a backward cap. Every few seconds, he lowered himself into a crouch while the boy fired foam pucks directly at his chest.
Emmett blocked each one, then deliberately missed the fourth.
The child threw both arms into the air.
Emmett nodded with solemn approval, as though the boy had just scored in overtime instead of rolling a foam circle between his shoes.
Piper looked away before Maren noticed.
Too late.
“You are staring at your boyfriend.”
“Fake boyfriend.”
“You were still staring.”
“I am monitoring the clinic.”
“From his shoulders?”
“They are inside the clinic.”
Maren smiled.
Piper reorganized the registration forms. “You have become unbearable since Griffin.”
“I was unbearable before Griffin. Now I have emotional support.”
“Useful.”
Her phone vibrated again.
She expected another social-media notification.
Instead, Owen’s name appeared across the screen.
Piper’s stomach tightened.
She had not answered his message from the night before.
You have no idea what Emmett is hiding. Ask him why he really agreed.
A second message now waited beneath it.
I am trying to keep you from being embarrassed again.
Piper almost laughed.
Owen had humiliated her in front of millions of people, but apparently the experience qualified him to provide preventative services.
She turned the phone facedown.
Maren saw the name before the screen disappeared.
“What does he want?”
“Attention.”
“That was not my question.”
“It is always the answer.”
“Did he say something about Emmett?”
Piper looked at her.
Maren’s expression was too neutral.
“You know something.”
“I know Owen sent Emmett a message last night.”
Piper’s grip tightened around the pen in her hand.
“What message?”
“I do not know. Emmett would not show Griffin.”
“Why was Griffin asking?”
“Because Emmett looked like he wanted to drive to Owen’s house and use the front door incorrectly.”
“That is very specific.”
“You should have seen his face.”
Piper glanced toward the court.
Emmett helped the boy reset his stance. He said something that made the child laugh, then looked toward the registration table.
Their eyes met.
The awareness was immediate.
Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Nothing anyone else would recognize.
Just the uncomfortable certainty that Emmett always knew when she was looking at him.
He raised one eyebrow.
Piper lifted the stack of forms as if that explained everything.
His mouth moved.
Barely.
Still enough for her to know he was amused.
She turned back to Maren.
“He does not get to threaten Owen.”
“I did not say he threatened him.”
“You described a door being used incorrectly.”
“That was emotional interpretation.”
“You spend too much time with Beckett.”
“Everyone spends too much time with Beckett. He is unavoidable.”
A whistle shrieked across the court.
Beckett pointed toward two children waiting in line.
“Illegal friendship delay. Two-minute penalty for excessive discussion.”
Griffin walked over and removed the whistle from his mouth.
Beckett looked offended.
“You cannot silence officiating.”
“You are not an official.”
“I am wearing stripes.”
“You drew those on your shirt.”
“Commitment should be rewarded.”
Griffin pocketed the whistle and returned to the passing station.
Piper looked down at the forms again, but Owen’s message remained in her mind.
Ask him why he really agreed.
There could be a simple answer.
Scholarship money.
Publicity.
A bad impulse.
An intense dislike of Beckett’s capes.
Emmett’s agent had also texted him within minutes of the announcement. Piper had seen the message.
This is either brilliant or catastrophic.
She knew enough about professional athletes to understand that public relationships had value. Emmett was one of Ridgeview’s best players, but he avoided interviews, rarely posted online, and had once answered six consecutive media questions with variations of the word fine.
A fake girlfriend could make him more marketable.
Especially a girlfriend whose entire job involved creating attractive public moments.
Piper hated the idea immediately.
Not because Emmett might benefit.
Because he might have agreed before telling her that part.
A shadow fell across the registration table.
She looked up.
Emmett stood on the other side.
His shirt was damp at the collar. A thin sheen of sweat crossed his forearms. He held a foam puck in one hand.
Piper noticed all of that before she noticed the little boy beside him.
“This is Mason,” Emmett said.
Mason wore a Ridgeview jersey large enough to reach his knees. He looked at Piper with serious brown eyes.
“Emmett says you are his girlfriend.”
Piper looked at Emmett.
Emmett’s expression remained perfectly calm.
“Did he?”
“He said fake girlfriend,” Mason explained. “But my mom says you should not tell people relationships are fake because it embarrasses them.”
Emmett glanced toward the child’s mother, who stood several feet away pretending not to listen.
Piper crouched until she was closer to Mason’s height.
“Your mom sounds very wise.”
“She says Emmett should take you somewhere with tablecloths.”
Piper pressed her lips together.
Emmett looked toward the lake.
Mason continued. “And flowers. Not grocery-store flowers because those mean somebody forgot.”
His mother turned bright red.
“I am so sorry,” she called.
Piper smiled.
This one was real.
“It is okay.”
Mason held out the foam puck. Emmett had written something across it in black marker.
DATE ONE
Piper looked up.
Emmett slid both hands into his pockets.
“Mason wanted to help.”
“I said you need a plan,” Mason corrected.
“Thank you, Mason.”
“You are welcome.”
He ran back toward the court.
Piper turned the puck over in her hand.
“Are there tablecloths?”
“No.”
“Flowers?”
“No.”
“Your review is already suffering.”
“You said the old dock.”
“I agreed to the old dock. I did not realize a child would be grading the execution.”
Emmett looked at the registration table.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Piper opened her mouth.
Nothing arrived.
He nodded.
“That is what I thought.”
“I had coffee.”
“It is noon.”
“It was a large coffee.”
“That is not food.”
“You are becoming demanding for someone on a temporary contract.”
“Seven tonight.”
“I remember.”
“Bring a sweater.”
“I also remember weather.”
“You forgot breakfast.”
“I did not forget. I prioritized.”
His eyes moved over her face.
Piper hated when he looked at her like that.
Not because it felt judgmental.
Because it felt thorough.
“Did Owen contact you?” he asked.
The question was quiet enough that Maren, now helping a parent at the other end of the table, would not hear.
Piper placed the puck beside the forms.
“Why?”
“Yes or no.”
“You do not get to interrogate me.”
“No.”
He accepted the correction immediately.
That should not have been attractive.
It was a very low standard.
Emmett tried again.
“Did he contact you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That you are hiding something.”
Emmett’s expression did not change.
That was the problem with him.
Most people had visible tells. Eyes shifting. Mouth tightening. Hands becoming suddenly fascinating.
Emmett turned into stone.
“What something?” he asked.
“He suggested I ask why you really agreed.”
A beat passed.
Then another.
Piper folded her arms.
“This would be the part where you tell me.”
“I agreed for the reasons I gave you.”
“The scholarship.”
“Yes.”
“Controlling the story.”
“Yes.”
“Preventing Beckett from arriving at dates in a cape.”
“That mattered.”
“But those are not all the reasons.”
Emmett held her gaze.
“No.”
The honesty struck harder than a denial.
Piper’s heartbeat changed.
“What else?”
Tyler appeared beside Emmett carrying a box of youth jerseys.
“Paulson says we need more mediums, but the supply tent is locked, and Griffin took my keys because he does not support independent leadership.”
Emmett did not look away from Piper.
“Later.”
Tyler glanced between them.
“Oh.”
Piper pointed toward the equipment area.
“Go.”