Page 33 of Pump Fake

“Not the same thing.” He threw himself back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s still here. You can go see him.”

“That’s true.” I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. “But it’s not why I wanted to share some of my story with you. Grief comes in so many forms. For me, it was abandonment, helplessness, and betrayal. I lashed out at my mom every chance I got. Her way to deal is to drink. She’s drunk more often than she’s sober. My little sis? She’s terrified for her future. It was all mapped out, and now everything’s changed.”

“Big fucking deal.”

I sucked in air, willing myself to be patient. “My point in all this is that when you lose a parent, a feeling of helplessness follows. Find the people who lift you up, and spend time with them, not those who encourage you to wallow and sink into destructive tendencies. You’re taking out your pain on the people around you. It’s not the answer.”

“Okay, wise one,” Preston mocked. “What’s the answer?”

He could be such a little shit, but I also got it. Lashing out was better than feeling the pain that never went away. And that boy was swimming in it.

“The answer is to control what you can and let the rest go, as it’s out of your realm of influence. You need to find a way to forgive what happened to your parents and let the love you have for them find peace in your heart. Then you need to forgive yourself.” I waited a beat, hoping some of that would sink in before hitting him up with the rest. “Grief is inevitable, but how you handle yourself going forward should be about the person you want to become. Let go of the childish response of feeling sorry for yourself.”

Silence hung in the air, and I held my breath as he dropped his slightly less angry eyes to his desk.Could I have gotten through to him, even just a little?I hoped so. Telling him anything about my family had the potential to backfire, but getting through to him was worth it.

“I’m always here for you if you want to talk, and I know that your uncle and grandmother are too.”

Silence vibrated between us, and I didn’t dare say anything more. I waited to see if he would reject me or maybe take hold of the branch I offered. Another minute passed, and still, I waited.

“Will you tell me about what happened to your family and how you dealt with it?” His eyes narrowed, that don’t-mess-with-me expression clear. “And don’t bullshit me, or talk down to me like a kid.”

“Fine.” I squared my shoulders, barely stopping myself from thrusting a fist in the air in victory.

He’d tentatively accepted my offer, and if keeping things real would help him see his lot differently and heal, I would tell him every horrible detail about how my life, and my sister’s, had changed in an afternoon.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BRIELLE

Excitement coursed through my veins like it was exam week, fueled by a necessary caffeine buzz but with none of the stress. My voice was hoarse from yelling at the football game against Iowa that afternoon, and in a few minutes, Ares would pick me up for our fake date.

“Are you nervous?” Mal plopped onto my bed beside me.

I’d told her everything. Ares had never specified that we couldn’t tellanyonewe were fake dating, and I bet his roommates also knew the truth. “Yeah, and it’s the weirdest thing. I shouldn’t be. We’ve been sleeping together most nights for the past couple of weeks.”

“Maybe it’s because you want this to be real?”

I rolled my eyes and tugged a long, wavy red strand of her hair. “Please, you know I’m not interested in dating.” Especially after witnessing the shit show of marriage my parents had. Mom was self-centered, and Dad was a criminal. Together, they fed off each other’s shortcomings in a completely dysfunctional circus of a relationship. No thanks.

Mal pursed her lips then burst out laughing. “Yeah, I’mhaving a hard time believing you aren’t more invested in Ares. Sort of hard not to be, actually.”

I whirled from the closet, shocked. “What’s going on? You never have eyes for anyone other than Brett.” She was crazy about her boyfriend and had been for the six months they’d been dating. “Well, Maverick Davis, but he’s your unicorn.”

She shrugged. “I am crazy about Brett, but I have eyes, and Ares is hot.”

“So is Brett.” Not my type, but he was Mal’s. “Are you guys having problems?”

“Not really.” She stretched onto her stomach, elbows on the mattress and chin resting on her hands. “I’m tired of all the idiot girls hitting on him.”

“But he’s not doing anything about that, right? Is he ignoring them like he always has?” I moved toward her, worried.

“It’s not that. I’m just, I don’t know, tired of it all, I guess. He wants to go pro, and it’ll only get worse.” Her gaze slid to the right.

“And this is a good time to break things off?” I was beginning to understand because if Mal were still head over heels, she would fight for what she wanted. Maybe he wasn’t it.

“It might be. We don’t have that much in common anymore, and I can feel him pulling away some too.”

“You know I’m here for you, right? Go out with us.” I grabbed her hand and lightly squeezed. “I highly doubt it’ll just be me and Ares. His roommates are around a lot, and since it’s after the game, Liam will be there.”

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