Page 27 of Unbroken

A laugh burst out of me and she grinned back.

“There’s the Fiona I know, telling me how she really feels!”

“Remember how we got in trouble in English class for making paper airplanes and trying to hit each other in the head?” Fiona asked. “And as punishment, I had to edit your college application essay, and you had to do mine? It’ll be like that.”

“No, you don’t have to help me …” I started to protest.

“If you want this job you don’t have a choice other than to accept my help, because you were way too modest with your answers. I mean, you basically built the trail program from the ground up and all you said on the application is that you ‘manage’ it. We need to add some razzle-dazzle.”

I knew she was right. I didn’t know how to sell myself.

“Okay, fine. In return, I’ll pay you for your time with a beer or two and a nice big bowl of ice cream.”

“Agreed!”

She stuck out her hand and I clasped it in mine. For one crazy second, I felt the urge to pull her close and dance with her in the middle of my kitchen, even though there was no music playing. Dancing would give me an excuse to put my hands on her again and feel her softness pressed against me.

“Okay, you can let go now,” Fiona said, giving me a funny look.

“What?” I glanced down at our still joined hands and finally let go. “Oh, sorry. Anyway, what type of ice cream do you want? Patrick insists on no less than three flavors in the house at all times, so we have …” I trailed off and walked over to open the freezer. “Bubble gum, cake batter, or dinosaur bones.”

Fiona made a face. “Hasn’t the kid ever heard of chocolate and vanilla? And what’s ‘dinosaur bones’ flavor like?”

“It’s good! The bones are pretzel,” I answered, pulling the carton from the freezer. “I’ll make you a sample bowl.”

“And I’ll get started on your application,” Fiona replied.

I grabbed two beers from the fridge and started scooping ice cream. I hadn’t had proper adult company over in a while, and I was a little embarrassed that I had to serve her from Patrick’s plastic child-sized bowls.

I reminded myself that Fiona didn’t care. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the last few years getting citified. She was still the down-home girl I’d grown up with. Eating ice cream out of action hero bowls was no big deal.

“Okay, Mr. Carter, let’s get to work,” she said as I handed her a heaping bowl. “Sit.”

“How am I going to repay you if I get the job?” I asked, sliding into the chair opposite her.

“You don’t have to. Consider this part of my girlfriend payback plan,” she said, still focused on the screen and spooning a massive dollop of ice cream into her mouth. “Yum! This stuff is amazing.”

I smiled at her and realized that hanging out with Fiona was as easy now as it had been back in high school. Sure, we’d both grown and changed in a million different ways, but the core of who we were remained.

The rivalry was still alive and well, obvious every time Fiona laughed at one of my answers and I felt the urge to argue it out. But the layer of familiarity and ease remained, no matter what.

And then there was thatotherthing that kept popping up as we worked together. The thing I kept punching down and denying.

The fact that I was enjoying hanging out with my fake girlfriend.

SEVENTEEN

FIONA

Irolled out of bed before sunrise after an annoying sleepless night that I couldn’t explain. It used to be the running joke in the family that I could sleep through Armageddon and not even notice that the world had ended until after I had ingested sufficient caffeine. Groaning, I dressed and stumbled downstairs, trying not to bump into Mitch and Dustin, who were filling up their travel cups with coffee before heading out to the barn.

I grabbed my mug, which had once belonged to my mom. Chipped and cracked, it had a grumpy cartoon character on it mumbling something about not talking to me before my morning coffee. Today, I meant it. I reached for the carafe and growled in frustration. Empty.

Flipping on the faucet, I refilled the coffee maker and slumped down onto a stool while I waited for it to do its magic and produce life saving energy juice. I would need plenty of it if I was going to have any hope of being functional today.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, my brother and sister were quietly filling their cups.

“I swear to whatever deity you pray to that I will hurt the both of you if you don’t save me any coffee from this pot,” I told them. My voice sounded gravelly and unused, so I coughed, attempting to clear my throat.

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