Page 32 of Fake Shot

“YOU’RE ENGAGED?” Her voice is equal parts excited and outraged. “You better be bringing her up here in two weeks for our anniversary party. I can’t believe I had to learn about this from anyone other than you!”

I gulp as my eyes rise above the phone to look at Jules, who stares back at me in horror. But her face is also laced with amusement, like she’s looking forward to seeing me get myself out of this.

I wish I hadn’t answered this call. I wish we’d had time to talk about this first. Because bringing Jules up there with me, pretending she’s my fiancée so that everyone knows I’ve finally moved on, feels like the perfect solution to my problems. But I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be amenable to that.

“Howdidyou hear about this, exactly?”

“It’s all over the internet. Some of my friends posted the article to The Facebook.” It will never not be funny that my mom refers to it as The Facebook like it’s 1999. “They were congratulating me and your dad. Mathieu, really? You couldn’t have told me ahead of time? You couldn’t have let me meet her first?”

“Are you mad?” I ask.

“And thrilled. I’m so happy for you,” she gushes, one hand on her heart as she pushes the red-framed reading glasses she’s always wearing these days up the bridge of her nose with her other hand. “I need details!”

“Mom ...” I glance above the screen at Jules.

“Oh my god! She’s there, isn’t she? Mathieu, I need to meet her right now!”

Jules’s eyes are huge, and she shakes her head vehemently.

“No, she’s not here right now, Mom.”

“Hmmm ...” The disbelieving sound rattles around in my mom’s throat as she gathers her pale gray hair back in a clip. Then her eyes focus on the screen. “Wait, where are you, anyway?”

Shit.“So, there was a flood at my condo earlier this week. I’m living in Jameson’s old apartment. But Mom, I’m on my way out the door right now. I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

“Okay, but promise me you’ll bring her up to meet us? And call me when you have time to talk. I need to hear more about the engagement and meet ...” She lets her voice carry off there, waiting for me to fill in the name of my elusive fiancée.

“Sounds good, I’ll call you soon. Love you!” I hang up quickly, then slump back against the chair, tilt my head back so I’m looking at the ceiling, and groan out, “Fuuuuuccccck.”

Jules’s laugh fills the space. “Oh my god,” she says as I take my phone and start searching for that article that Zach sent me a screenshot of. “You should have seen your face as she started asking you for details. And I’m sorry, but her excitement is obviously clouding her judgment. I mean, who would even believeyouwere engaged?”

I stare down at the article, completely dumbstruck. It’s posted on one of those sports fan websites that has a very social media-feel to it. “Uh, apparently 1.5 million people.”

“What?” Jules practically shouts as she snatches my phone from my hand. Her eyes scan the screen, probably noting the same 1.5 million likes that I saw, then she taps on something. Her face drains of color, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when she looks up at me, the same terror in her eyes that I saw in that restaurant, and says, “They figured out who I am. Already. And someone posted the video from the alley.”

Chapter Thirteen

JULES

Colt hops out of his chair, turns mine toward him, and rests himself on both knees between my legs. He grips my hips in his hands, forcefully enough that I look up at him.

“Jules, it’s going to be okay.”

That feeling is starting again. The restlessness that makes me want to crawl out of my skin, the sensation that someone is sitting on my chest and making it impossible to breathe. My fingers twitch, and I clench them into my palms, making a tight fist and hoping I can stop this before it happens.

I take a breath through my nose, trying to get as much air in as possible, but it feels like my lungs aren’t expanding all the way, which only increases the panic. If I don’t get more air than this, I’m going to pass out.

Colt cups my face in his hands like he did in my bedroom earlier, and it soothes something inside me even though it shouldn’t—there’s no one in the world I’mlesssafe with than Colt. Not because he’s any danger to me physically, butbecause not keeping my distance from him is dangerous to my mental and emotional well-being.

“You’re going to need to breathe, or I’m going to start giving you CPR.”

Letting out a small laugh, I relax enough to tilt my head forward to fully rest it in his hands. His humor had the intended effect, and I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, relieved as my heartbeat slows to a more regulated pace.

“Sounds like a sad excuse to kiss me again,” I tease.

“Believe me, if I thought you wanted me to kiss you again, I wouldn’t need to make excuses.”

What does that even mean? Does hewantto kiss me again?

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