Page 12 of Not Fooling Anyone

I stroke my beard reflexively. “Let’s see. Scott is the oldest.”

“How much older?”

“Uh…” I do some mental math. “Six years older. Then there’s Brian. He’s three years older. And Jacob and Jordan are the babies. They’re twins and two years younger.”

“Fraternal or identical?” she asks, noting everything on her list.

Is that important? “Fraternal. But they get mistaken for identical a lot.” Strangers sometimes lump me in with them too, thinking we’re triplets.

“Parents?”

“Gayle and Terry Hudson. Married twenty-eight years. Pretty much the most boring, suburban family in America.”

She taps her pen against the table. “Is that why you started boxing? For some excitement?”

“My roommate got me into it. But yeah, I do like the excitement. The adrenaline.”

“Do you like hurting people?” she asks softly.

The pancake I’m chewing turns dry in my mouth. “I’d say that’s a side effect. Not the reason I do it.” Did someone hurt her? A boxer?

Was it her dad?

No, she seemed fairly close to him yesterday at the gym. At least that was the vibe I got.

Maybe an ex?

No, she doesn’t date.

She picks at her food again. “Some guys, you know, they get off on that kind of stuff.”

I set my fork down carefully. “Have you met guys like that?”

She shrugs unconvincingly. “Forget I said anything.”

“You keep saying that a lot.”

Her jaw sets.

Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut. Mom always says I don’t know when to quit.

“Yeah, I do.” Her fork clatters next to her unfinished waffle. “I appreciate you helping me out, but I don’t have to spill all my secrets to you. We just met.”

Time to retreat. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“I think we have enough to get through tomorrow,” she says, opening her bag to pull out her wallet.

“You don’t owe anything for dinner.”

“But I ate—”

“I asked you to meet up here. I ordered the food. It’s on me.”

She stares at me for a beat longer before stuffing her wallet back in. Sliding out of her side of the booth, she shoulders her bag but doesn’t leave right away. “The study’s at three,” she finally says.

I nod, afraid to set her off again.

“Thanks… Thanks for taking this seriously. A lot of people wouldn’t.” She turns, speed walking toward the exit before I can respond.

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