Page 10 of Elite Player
“Finally!” Mom hugs him. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Josephine never tells us anything about you.”
For his part, Nico accepts the embrace, woodenly patting my mother’s back, his eyes on me, blinking rapidly.
I still don’t move. Still have no thoughts in my head.
“I think you’re choking him,” Lizzie says with a trace of laughter. Almost like she can’t believe it.
Me neither.
Danny huffs. “Thought he wasn’t real.”
Of course he would think that. My older brother was one of my worst bullies. There is no way he believes I’m engaged to be married.
He’s right, but he still doesn’t have to be such a dick.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Waylon, back up to the door, taking it all in, and my eyes sting with tears.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
It started simply. Stupidly. One date my mother wouldn’t stop hounding me about even though I was stood up, so instead of telling her the truth, I told her a white lie that it went well.
And kept going well.
Well enough that I let her conjure up whatever story she needed to tell herself to keep her off my back and let me live in peace. Having an imaginary fiancé just so happened to do the trick.
“Aren’t you going to kiss your fiancé?” Lizzie asks, and I shoot my gaze to my sister. She wears a know-it-all smirk. She doesn’t believe it either.
“Yes! Give her a little kiss,” Mamaw instructs happily, pushing Nico toward me.
He practically stumbles into the side of the hospital bed, and I catch him, my hands on his chest, hard-packed muscle beneath the Iron T-shirt he’s wearing. His throat bobs on a swallow as he stares at me, clearly waiting for some explanation. Except, I don’thave one and offer up a smile instead, my lips curled over my teeth. Really, it’s more of a grimace. A silent apology.
“Jo?” he whispers, and I fist my fingers into the cotton of his shirt as if he can solve this problem for me. His blue eyes drift back and forth between my own, and I don’t know what he finds in them—aside from hysteria—but whatever it is makes him sit, his thigh against mine, placing his fingers over mine.
“Why don’t we give them a moment?” I hear Mamaw suggest, and Mom agrees.
“Yes, one minute for the lovebirds, and then we’ll be back in. Okay, Buck?”
I don’t answer, but she ushers everyone out of the room anyway, leaving Nico and me alone.
Once the door is closed, he removes the backward baseball cap from his head and stands with an audible breath, forcing me to release my grip on him so he can turn in a circle before quietly yelling at me, “What the fuck!”
“I know. I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t—I don’t even—I just?—”
“Seriously, Jo. Fiancé? What the hell?”
I flail my hands for a few seconds before simply letting them drop. “It’s unfortunate timing.”
“You think?” He slouches into the chair next to my bed, setting a bag on the table.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner.”
“Dinner?” I repeat because nothing makes sense right now.
“The team’s chef made Mexican tonight. He does these bomb chicken taquitos with homemade hot sauce. I snagged some for us. Rice and beans too.”
“You brought me dinner?”
