Chapter 10

Fraser

Getting to spend one day with Evie—even if it was at jerkface"s wedding—was a bonus.

Dinner alone with her after the game? Another bonus.

Seeing her at Levi"s the following day? Yet another bonus.

And now…my bonus just scored a bonus, and I"m officially the most bonusfully blessed guy in the world.

Trust me when I say I wasn"t expecting any of this. I fully believed Evie when she told me over dinner that interest in us would all blow over in a few days.

That dinner was two months ago.

Since then, the story of me and Evie dating hasn"t blown over—it"s blown up.

What"s surprising is that I don"t actually hate the persistent media attention anywhere near as much as I thought I would.

Most of that comes down to taking Levi"s low-key approach.

The press is off my back, no longer speculating and gossiping about every woman I"m seen with. They seem content to snap photos of Evie in the stands whenever she can fly out to a game.

So far, we"ve gone out on three public dinner outings. Each time, we get spotted by fans who post the photos online, and then voila, the next day, it hits the mainstream media.

Who knew that two people eating burgers could generate so much interest and such a variety of hashtags?

I will never understand social media, and I am one hundred percent okay with that.

The team is doing well.

Our record so far for the season is 14-4-2. Fourteen wins, four losses, and two overtime losses. My personal stats are thirteen goals and twenty assists. Even though it"s still early, we"re in a good position within our division and are on track to secure a playoff spot.

I actually don"t mind the few losses we"ve had as much as I normally would. I have this secret fear that once we inevitably lose a game or two, the press might turn on Evie. The good luck chalice can quickly turn poisonous. I"ve seen it happen before to other players" girlfriends, and I don"t want it happening to my girl.

Yes, I said my girl. I"m aware.

In my private thoughts, that"s how I think of her.

Thankfully, Evie hasn"t been blamed for any of our defeats. Maybe it helps that she wasn"t in attendance at two of the four games we lost. Or maybe the halo effect of being Alex Freeman"s daughter grants her a degree of immunity. Who knows? I"m just happy the media and fans are still on her side and that we"re pulling this whole fake dating thing off.

All in all, the plan is going swimmingly.

And I haven"t lost the thing I value the most—my privacy.

Because my day-to-day life has stayed pretty much the same. I still play and train like normal. I still avoid interviews—really, any interaction with the press—like the plague. I"m still perceived as guarded and aloof.

Importantly, though, my family"s secret remains safe.

I"m coming back from spending a few hours with Dawn and Oakey in the mountains. As long as they"re protected, I"m fine with everything else.

And I"m more than fine with what"s about to happen tonight.

Because, without a doubt, the best part of this whole fake dating thing has been getting to spend more time with Evie.

I"m standing outside her apartment, yellow roses in hand, grinning to myself like an idiot. This was never part of the Levi-plan, but it"s something Evie and I just, I don"t know, fell into.

Having time together. Privately. Alone.

No cameras.

No deliberate attention-seeking.

No pretending.

The time we spend like this feels very, very real. Like how it used to feel back in high school.

I don"t know what it is, but there"s something about Evie that loosens me up. Dismantles whatever guardrails I have.

All without even trying. It just…happens.

Which means I have to tread carefully here. Something else I am acutely aware of.

I can"t forget this is a limited arrangement. I"m already way luckier than I have any right to be, getting to spend this much time with her.

I have to make the most of whatever time we have left, because at some point, she"ll want to end this craziness and return to her regular life, and I"ll go back to being alone.

Which is fine.

Whatever.

I"m okay with that since I"m clearly not cut out for relationships, judging by my dating track record up until this point.

I ring the doorbell and mentally brace myself for that tingly feeling that randomly pops up whenever we"re together.

She opens the door and smiles brightly. Right on cue, my chest tingles.

"Fraser, hi! Oh, my gosh, you bought flowers. Again. You know, I was just wondering whether you would. But then I said to myself, Evie, stop it. The man is not obligated to bring you flowers every time he sees you. But then I countered that with, But, hey, if your fake boyfriend likes bringing you flowers, let him. But then I thought I should probably tell you that you don"t have to bring me flowers. I don"t want it to feel like an obligation or a chore. So, wait…um, I"ve lost my train of thought. I did have a point to all this rambling."

I laugh, handing her the bouquet. "My key takeaway is that you like it when I bring you flowers. Correct?"

"Correct."

"And I like bringing you flowers, so there"s no issue."

I give her an all too brief peck on the cheek and step inside her apartment. It"s my first time here. Given the hectic season schedule, all the time we"ve spent together has been when Evie has flown out to see me play away games.

Our private hangouts have always been in hotel suites, where we devour room service burgers, then rearrange the furniture, lie down on the floor, stare up at the ceiling, and talk…like we used to.

I"ve got a mandatory bye week this week, so I"ve snuck in a quick trip to Comfort Bay for two days. I"ve already gotten to see Dawn and Oakey. I"ll do the obligatory family thing tomorrow, but right now, the only thing that matters is getting to spend some time with Evie.

"So this is Chateau Evie," I remark, taking it in.

The place is quintessential Evie. Charming. Eclectic. Colorful. Slightly chaotic, with artfully stacked books, an assortment of vibrant plants by the massive window, and a collage of framed posters.

I smile when I notice they"re a lot like the ones she had in her bedroom, a mix of hockey players and punk music album covers. The last frame displays four prominent women in hockey today, just like the four-in-one photo she used to have back in high school.

"It"s a mess, and if you were an actual boyfriend, I"d make up some lie about it."

"What sort of lie?"

"You know, like, Oh, I"ve just been so busy at work, I haven"t had time to clean, or, Normally I"m not this messy." Her hazel eyes meet mine. "But it"s you…"

She pokes my chest with her finger…and yep, tingles.

"…and I"m sure you remember how messy my teenage bedroom was."

"You think yours was messy? You should"ve seen mine. Teenage boy rooms are the worst. And the smell. Don"t even get me started on the smell."

She starts laughing as we head toward her kitchen. She grabs a vase, fills it with water, and starts arranging the yellow roses.

"So, how have you been?" I ask.

I am genuinely interested to know, but I also genuinely need something to distract me from how amazing she looks. She"s in a dusty-pink loungewear set of drawstring joggers, a knitted tank top, and a cardigan that drapes loosely over her body, falling down past her hips.

I"ve never dated anyone who can pull off effortless chic as well as Evie does.

Okay, that last thought is a clear sign my brain is in trouble. I need to remind myself that none of this is real. We"re fake dating, that"s it. Get it together, man.

Shut down. Restart. Reactivate listening mode.

"…and so, I don"t know, with my numbers at work flatlining despite all the attention we"re getting, I"m just feeling a little blerg."

Wait. Her numbers are falling?

"How is that possible? The guys are always ribbing me at practice about some new meme featuring the two of us."

She leans against the counter. "Apparently, it"s nothing personal, which I"m finding harder and harder to believe. We went through another round of focus group testing, and people just aren"t into the type of stories I present."

"Are you kidding me? Yesterday"s story."

"Don"t talk to me about yesterday"s story." Evie starts fanning her eyes. "I"ll start crying."

She won"t be the only one.

It was one of her best ever, about a dad who passed away from cancer when his daughter was twelve. Before he died, he prepaid a florist to deliver flowers and a note from him every year on her birthday. It"s one of the most thoughtful and touching things I"ve ever seen.

"How can people not like your stories? It baffles me."

"Thank you for saying that. Now, if you could please stream my segments eighty-seven thousand times, that might make the network happy."

"I don"t understand why your numbers are declining. Isn"t the media obsessed with us?"

"Interest is starting to fade a bit," she explains. "And even though we still get a lot of traction on social media and gossip sites, that"s not translating to people tuning in to my segments anymore."

I huff out an annoyed breath, hating this so much. She"s so freaking talented, and her stories are so freaking good.

"Is there anything I can do?"

With a playful twinkle in her eye and a roguish grin, she begins, "Well?—"

"Besides streaming your segments eighty-seven thousand times?" I cut in since that"s where I know she"s heading. "Something that"s, you know, actually doable?"

She hesitates for a moment, then says, "There isn"t, but thank you for the offer. Come on. Let"s go into the living room."

"Uh…"

She stops walking. "Uh, what?"

"Aren"t you making dinner?"

"I am."

"Doesn"t dinner-making normally take place in the kitchen? Or do normal food-preparation rules not apply in Evie Land?"

"Oh, Fraser."

She comes over to me and slides her fingers against my cheek, lightly running her thumb over my scar.

Tingle, tingle, tingle.

"You don"t need pots and pans and ovens to make food. That"s so 1950s. All today"s modern gal-on-the-go needs is one of these." She waves her phone in front of me. "Why, in just a few taps, I can make whatever food you like magically appear."

I grin. "And by whatever food you like, I assume you mean…"

We say burgers at the same time.

"I placed the order right before you got here. Should be arriving in about ten minutes."

Our eyes meet. Hers sparkle in the soft glow of string lights she"s hung up along the wall above her posters.

"Wanna watch a game?" she asks predictably.

"Can you ever not have a game on in the background?"

She reaches for the remote control, then tilts her face at me. "I could. But why would I want that?"

I chuckle. "Fair enough."

While Evie browses for a game to put on, I notice a familiar sight on the desk in her work nook. I wander over, thread a piece of material around my finger, and spin around.

"You making bracelets again?"

"Oh. Yeah." She settles on a game and walks over to me, eyeing all the fabrics strewn over the desk. "I tried getting back into it during my, uh, first viral moment, but I didn"t enjoy it. To be fair, I wasn"t enjoying much at the time. Even burgers weren"t hitting the same."

"Yikes. That"s some serious stuff."

She bumps into my side, and it takes all the restraint I have in me not to wrap my arm around her and keep her there.

"But lately…" She shrugs. "I don"t know. I seem to have gotten back into it."

"That"s really cool." A few finished bracelets are laid out. Her style has changed since high school, and these look nothing like the one she gave me.

Should I mention that? Slip the topic we haven"t even come close to broaching once into the conversation like it"s no big deal?

No. I can"t do that.

Because it is a big deal.

I stalk over to the window, needing to put some space between us.

I"m not even sure if I properly thanked her for making it for me. I"d like to think that I did, but so much about that night is a blur, I honestly can"t remember.

And then to top it off, I disappeared the next day without saying goodbye.

ThatI do remember, and I hate myself for doing it.

But amidst all the chaos, with my dad kicking the crew out of the house, and Dawn in hysterics, my brothers and I had to do what we were told.

Shut everything down.

Act normal.

Don"t speak to anyone.

And in my case, leave for training camp as if everything had been pre-planned, like our entire world hadn"t just been changed forever.

That"s not something you slip into a conversation. That"s something a coward like jerkface would do.

No.

If…when…the time is right and Evie and I have that conversation, I"m going to do it properly.

"You ever think about selling them?" I ask, staying a safe few feet away from her. "I"m sure people would buy "em up."

"Nah. It"s a passion project. Nothing else."

"Keep it in mind," I say. "If it"s something you enjoy, why not make a living out of it? That way work won"t ever feel like work."

She shoots me a peculiar glance.

"Sorry. I flicked through a bunch of Hallmark cards while I was waiting at the flower shop on my way over. The cheesiness must have rubbed off on me. Don"t worry, Hannah already roasted me for it. Said she had to get a few jabs in on your behalf. Something about girl code."

"You know it"s rare…" Evie moves away from the desk. "Incredibly rare, actually…" She gets closer to me. "For me to meet someone on my level of…" She narrows her eyes and looks up at me in concentration. "Quirkiness. But you, Mr. Rademacher. You"re up there."

I take a step toward her. Barely a few inches separate us. "I take it that meets with your approval?"

"It does."

"I like the way we banter," I say, aware that I"ve told her this a few times already over the course of the past few months.

She brushes her hand down the side of my arm. "I like the way we banter, too."

I move in closer, curl my fingers around the back of her neck, and widen my stance.

Her face tilts up.

My face angles down…

The doorbell rings.

Evie lets out a squeal and jumps back. Her pupils are blown out, her lips are parted, and she"s breathing heavily.

And dammit, we didn"t even kiss.

"Food," she croaks.

"Uh-huh." I run my hand through my hair as she dashes out of the room to answer the door.

Okay, so much for reining in my feelings for Evie.

Maybe getting interrupted is a sign.

A confirmation that I shouldn"t do anything that even looks like I"m pursuing Evie—aside from whenever we"re in public, when we hug after a game, or walk hand-in-hand from the arena.

Because every time we almost kiss, we get interrupted.

That"s twice now, for those keeping score.

First at the beach after jerkface"s wedding, and now, tonight.

Every single other time we"ve hung out, I"ve tested the limits of my self-restraint, and all we"ve ever done is talk like we did back in the day.

I"ve never wanted to mess with the good vibe we"ve got going, and maybe I"m imagining things, but I"m picking up that Evie might have some boundaries when it comes to intimate contact like kissing. I can"t explain it. It"s just a feeling I"ve got.

All the more reason to keep my hands—and my lips—to myself and stay on the correct side of the imaginary line I"ve drawn in my head.

Evie and I are fake dating. Even if the friendship forming between us is every bit real.

"I come bearing burgers and truth fries," she proclaims with a wide smile, carrying what looks like two very full takeout bags.

I jolt myself back to reality. "Awesome. I"m starving. Where do you want to eat?"

"If you actually were my boyfriend, I"d say something like, let"s eat at the table like adults. Or, if the relationship was going really well and I felt secure enough, I might suggest sitting on the floor and eating at the coffee table and make it appear like that wasn"t my preferred—no, wait, my sole—way of eating."

"So floor it is, then," I say, taking the bags from her.

Her face lights up. "I knew Levi kept you around for a reason."

We sit down and dig in. Evie"s eyes flit between the TV, the food, and me. She deftly keeps the conversation light, and it"s like almost-kiss number two never happened.

Maybe that"s how she"d prefer it? To leave it behind. She is all about moving on, isn"t she?

But that doesn"t stop me from being curious about how she"s doing.

How she"s really doing.

I"m not normally one to pry, but I decide to use this situation to my advantage and perform a deep-fried power play.

I pick up a fry and extend it toward her. "Do you, Evie Freeman, solemnly swear to follow the fry oath and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help the gods of deep fried food and baked goods?"

She drops her burger and lifts her hand by the side of her face. "I do…if I can have that fry."

"Why would you want a fry from me?" I drop my gaze. "Oh. You ate yours already, huh?"

"I did."

She seems a little uncomfortable, but not as all-out embarrassed as she was the first time this happened.

Or the second.

Or even the third.

"How about from now on, we only get large fries so we can share them?"

Her lips curve into a smile. "Deal."

How weird, on the Rademacher scale of weirdness, is it that I think it"s sexy that she likes to eat?

I slide my fries into the center of the coffee table.

She takes one and nibbles on the end. "So what is it you want to know that requires pledging allegiance to the almighty fry?"

"Well, we"ve been hanging out a bit."

"We have."

"We talk."

"Mainly me, but sure, we do."

I smile. "But we haven"t talked about one topic. In fact, we"ve avoided it altogether."

"What topic might that be?"

"Love."

"Oh." She adjusts how she"s sitting. "What would you like to know?"

"Well…apart from jerkface, have you been in any other serious relationships?"

I know for a fact that she has, but every time Levi"s brought it up, I"ve quickly changed the subject. He probably took it as a sign that I wasn"t interested in his little sister"s dating life, when the truth was, I simply couldn"t handleknowing about it.

Hearing about the girl you"re in love with—the girl you"ve been in love with for so many years and can"t get over—dating someone else is about as much fun as a colonoscopy.

Especially when that girl happens to be my best friends" younger sister. Yeah, that"s a whole world of pain I"m not ready to deal with. I don"t even want to think about Levi"s reaction. Given how protective he is of her, he"d likely go ballistic and probably never speak to me again. But that"s a problem for future Fraser.

Current Fraser is blocking everything else out and giving Evie his undivided attention.

"I had two serious relationships before Bryce," Evie says, her features settling into a somber expression. "Both lasted about a year. Same as my relationship with Bryce. And then they ended. I got dumped. Something happens around that pesky twelve-month mark. An invisible, relationship-ending button must go off in their heads and, poof, end of relationship. I"m starting to think I might be cursed."

You"re not cursed. They"re just idiots.

I want to tell her that.

I want to assure her there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. That she"s funny and smart and the best person ever to hang out with.

More importantly, I want her to believe it.

To have the self-doubt clouding her eyes vanish. To see the worry leave her face for good. To have her know on a deep, soul level that the issue wasn"t her. It couldn"t be—because she"s perfect.

But I also have to be careful here. Praising Evie is a lot like buying flowers for her—once I start, I don"t seem to be able to stop.

I realize my next question may be pushing the limits of the fry oath, but I ask it anyway.

"Were any of the guys "the one"?"

"Heck, no."

No hesitation there at all.

My chest expands in…relief?

Relief for her, I mean. It"s good that her "one" didn"t get away.

"And are you okay now, how things are with…everything?"

She shoots me a friendly smile. "Is that your way of asking if I"m over Bryce without saying his name or calling him jerkface?"

"I have zero qualms about calling him jerkface," I remind her. "But yes, it is."

"I am over it. I got over it at the wedding. When I went over to speak to him, I realized that what I needed from that day was closure. And I got it."

"That"s good. I"m happy for you."

"Besides, we really weren"t right for each other."

"Oh."

"He was a vegetarian."

I scoff. "First red flag. Nothing against vegetarians. Dawn is one. But you"re like a butcher shop, with all the burgers you consume."

"I know, right?"

She giggles playfully, and the sweet sound sends a ripple of tingles cascading down my spine.

"It was other things, though. He didn"t get my humor. In fact, I think I kind of exhausted him. He was naturally a morning person. He hated farmer"s markets. He liked my parents. He bought me the one and only type of flower I"m allergic to. I mean, I couldn"t have asked for clearer signs from the universe that we just weren"t meant to be."

Listening to Evie rattle off all of jerkface"s faults has got me gritting my teeth so hard, I"m surprised they haven"t been crushed yet from the sheer force.

"And there were some other ways we were incompatible."

A slight blush rises up her neck, and I get that feeling again that maybe she"s hinting at something to do with her boundaries.

Definitely won"t be pressing her on that. If she wants to tell me, she can, but only if and when she"s ready.

She picks up a fry and dangles it in front of my face. "And now do you, Fraser Rademacher, solemnly swear to follow the fry oath and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help the gods of deep fried food and baked goods?"

"I do," I reply, dipping my head earnestly in agreement. "Anything you want to ask, just ask. I"m an open book."

Evie giggles again, and once I hear what I just said, I start chuckling, too.

"You are many things, but an open book? Hardly."

My cheeks get a little warmer. "You"re right. I"m not. I don"t know why I said that."

Maybe because when I"m around her, those words actually ring true. Evie could ask me anything, and I"d tell her.

Well, apart from the family secret, but that"s only because we all agreed we"d keep it. If I wanted to change that rule, I"d have to run it past my family. It sucks because it"s the one thing—the only thing—I can"t be fully truthful about with Evie.

"What"s your dating story?" she asks. "Have you found "the one" yet?"

I have, and she"s sitting on the floor across from me, chomping down on a fry, completely oblivious to my feelings because I"m too much of a coward to tell her how I feel.

"I, uh…guess not. Not yet, anyway."

"It wasn"t Tori?"

"It definitely wasn"t Tori."

"I didn"t think she seemed like your type. She was a little, uh, outgoing."

"If by outgoing you mean she would have done anything for press, including selling our private vacation photos to an online entertainment website, then yes, you"re right."

Evie winces. "I had no idea she did that. I"m sorry."

"Thanks. I seem to be a magnet for that type of girl, you know? They don"t really care about me, they"re only interested in dating a pro hockey player. The attention. The lifestyle. All the frivolous stuff that I couldn"t care less about but that comes with being a pro athlete."

I stop talking, aware I might be playing the victim when I"m not. I just attract women who crave the limelight.

Tori never once asked me about my favorite book. Or whether I like cats or dogs. Or even really delved into my family or childhood.

We weren"t on the same wavelength.

Oh, and the banter between us? Non-existent.

Tori once asked me if I was having a mild stroke when I went on a mini-rant about the unusual way the cashier was bagging groceries at the store.

But Evie?

She would"ve jumped right in there with no hesitation, riffing off me and probably bringing in the checkout dividers—which I"m sure she would have given names to—and it"d be something we"d spend the rest of the day talking and laughing about.

I clear my throat. "I still haven"t forgiven Dawn for setting me up with her."

As if sensing I"m keen to change the subject, Evie asks, "How is Dawn doing these days?"

Of course Evie"s got no idea that"s a topic I want to talk about even less than my less-than-stellar dating life.

My shoulders tense. "She"s fine."

"I heard she"s living nearby. Up in Cedar Crest Hollow?"

Mom is still friends with Evie"s mom, so it makes sense she"d know that.

"That"s right."

"It"s beautiful up there. I haven"t driven up the mountain in ages. Maybe we could go sometime? I"d love to see Dawn."

"Uh, sure. You all done?"

Evie nods, and I scoop up all the wrappers and toss them into the bags.

Not exactly being subtle that I don"t want to talk about my sister, but I can"t help it. The topic of Dawn always puts me on edge. I failed to protect her once. I can"t let her down again. Even if it means withholding the truth from Evie.

I take the bags into the kitchen, and when I return, we lie on the floor to watch the game. Yes, she has a couch we could be sitting on, but why waste a perfectly good floor? It totally takes me back to old times.

At the end of the night, Evie walks me to the door.

"Thanks for the burgers," I say.

"Thanks for sharing your fries with me."

"No problem." I waver for a moment. "I"ve been thinking, since we"ve already broken our no-numbers-exchanged pledge and have been texting each other to make plans…"

"The pledge we made seven years ago when we were next-door neighbors and didn"t need phones to communicate with each other?"

I grin. "That"s the one. Since we already have each other"s numbers…"

"Yeah?"

"And since our schedules for the next few weeks are brutal and we won"t be able to see each other, what if…"

Come on, man, just spit it out already.

"What if we have some chat dates?"

Evie scrunches up her nose in confusion. "Chat dates?"

"Yeah. See, there"s this neat function on your cell phone. Apparently you just press a person"s name from your contact list, and then somehow—don"t ask me how because it"s well above my paygrade—a few seconds later, you hear that person"s voice on the other end of the line."

"I"ve never heard of this before."

"Apparently it"s something people used to do all the time in the dark ages."

"You mean the "90s?"

"Exactly."

Evie taps her chin. "Chat dates, eh?"

I chuckle nervously. "Are you up for it?"

"Yeah." A smile blooms across her face. "I"d really like that."