Page 32 of Faking with Three

“Coming right up,” he says, giving no indication that he recognizes me, for which I’m grateful.

I step aside, arms crossed, and wait for my order. The whispers continue, little snippets floating through the air.

“...kind of a mess, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, but the soup thing was hilarious…”

“...surprised someone like her is on that kind of show…” “...are fat people doing dating shows now?...”

The words sting more than I want to admit, and I find myself gripping my phone tighter. This is exactly why I keep my personal and professional lives separate. And now, thanks to Charlie freaking Green, it’s all bleeding together.

The barista calls my name, and I grab my coffee, not even bothering to add sugar or cream. I need to get out of here before I lose it. As I push open the door, the crisp morning air hits me, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

Iversteen was supposed to feel like home. But right now, it’s nothing but a reminder of why I left in the first place.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I step out of the coffee shop. It’s Marcus again. He only ever calls when things are urgent—or terrible.

“Marcus,” I answer, already bracing myself.

“You need to come down to the police station,” he says without preamble. His voice is tight, and my stomach drops.

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s Charlie Green. She’s filed a police report against us.”

I stop dead in my tracks, clutching the phone tighter. “Shewhat?”

“She’s alleging threats and intimidation. And her lawyer’s filed for an injunction to remove the restaurant episode, claiming it depicts her in a false light.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “That woman is insane,” I snap. “She came at us, not the other way around!”

“I know,” Marcus says, sounding just as frustrated. “But we need to deal with it. Can you get here soon?”

I glance at the time. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The station is every bit as grim as I remember it from years ago: a cacophony of ringing phones, raised voices, and the clatter of keyboards. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, washing the space in a dull, lifeless glow. I had to come down here with Mom after my Dad died for some formalities, and I’ve hated this place ever since.

Marcus is leaning against the wall near the entrance, arms crossed over his chest. He looks up when I approach, his expression grim.

“Alright,” I say, keeping my voice low. “What’s the deal?”

“They’ve got her report on file,” Marcus explains as we make our way to the back. “She’s claiming we threatened her and caused her emotional distress.”

“She was the one harassingus,” I say, my voice rising.

“Exactly, but her lawyer’s clever. They’re pushing for an injunction to take the episode down before it gains more traction.”

We enter a small, stuffy room where Ethan and Jax are already seated. A detective sits behind a desk, his expression neutral as he clicks through something on his computer.

“Miss Chase,” he greets me with a nod, his tone detached. “I assume you’ve been informed of the complaint?”

“Barely,” I reply, taking a seat next to Jax.

The detective folds his hands. “Ms. Green has alleged that during your encounter at the restaurant, she was subjected to threats and intimidation. She claims the incident has caused her emotional distress.”

“That’s absurd,” I say, leaning forward. “She came over toourtable, ambusheduswith questions, and refused to leave.”

The detective raises a hand. “I’m just here to document the facts, ma’am.”

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