Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 49

KATY’S POV

I push my hair behind my ears for what’s probably the tenth time, catching my reflection in the little mirror above the passenger seat.

My thoughts are a mess with nerves, excitement, and all the weird feelings that come with going on a date with a guy.

And sure, Braydon said it’s not that kind of date, whatever that means, but tell that to the butterflies doing backflips in my stomach. It doesn’t help that there’s a massive bouquet of tulips on the back seat. Two hours in this car and they’re just sitting there like a symbol of how romantic he apparently knows how to be. I didn’t know he had it in him.

I steal a glance at him and he looks so calm it’s almost suspicious. He has one hand on the wheel, the other tapping to the beat of Laugh Now Cry Later by Drake. His eyes stay fixed on the road, his jaw flexing just a little whenever we pass a slow car. He’s been quiet most of the ride besides the part where he told me I looked good and then joked about how I probably spent three hours getting ready.

He’s not wrong.

But it’s not the silence that’s making me nervous. It’s him. The way he looks so put together, like he’s got something planned. I can’t tell if I’m supposed to be relaxed or on edge.

“So… why fly to New York yesterday?” I ask, leaning back in the seat and crossing my arms.

He glances at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Why are you suddenly curious?”

“I don’t know,” I say, dragging out the words. “It’s just weird that you ditched schedule like that.”

He licks his lips, a faint smile tugging at the corner. “I know you’re only asking because you want to scold me, so I’m not telling you.”

My lips part. “Wow. So now you read minds?”

He doesn’t respond, but that smug smile stays glued to his face. I’m halfway through coming up with more questions when the car slows down and turns toward what looks like a private cemetery. He drives through an arched gate with a sign that reads St. Augustine Memorial Park.

I blink, leaning closer to the window. All I can see are rows of graves stretching ahead, neat and endless. My brows knit as my eyes follow the winding path through the trees.

Then Braydon kills the engine, and the hum of the car fades into silence.

I turn to him slowly. “Are we… in a cemetery right now?”

The corner of his lips twitch. “Told you it wasn’t that kind of date.”

I stare at him. “But-”

Before I can finish, he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. My mouth opens, then closes again, like my brain can’t decide which question to start with. Am I being pranked or something?

Seriously, a cemetery? What on earth are we doing here? And why did I wear my good dress for this?

He circles around to my side, opens the door, and holds out a hand.

I glance down at his palm, then up at him. “You’re seriously not going to tell me what’s going on first?”

He says nothing, his shining eyes on me.

With a resigned exhale, I slide my hand into his, letting him help me out. As I step out, he releases my hand, walks to the back seat, and pulls out the bouquet I noticed earlier. White and pink tulips. He also grabs the small paper bag beside it and closes the door carefully.

Then he turns to me again, his expression gentler now.

“I know you’re confused,” he says quietly. I almost laugh-yeah, confused is one word for it. It’s not every day I spend two hours getting ready only to end up in a cemetery.

He looks down at the flowers, then back at me. “But it’s my mom’s birthday today.”

My lips part-not out of shock, or maybe yes, out of shock, but the kind that hits twice. The kind that leaves you blinking and trying to catch up. The annoyance and confusion I felt earlier dissolve in an instant, and realization slams into me.

Oh.

Oh fucking shit.

“I know I should’ve told you,” he says, staring down as his shoe digs into the dirt. “But I didn’t want you to say no.”

My chest tightens.

“I just…. didn’t want to visit her alone,” he adds, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And I really wanted her to see the girl who’s been helping me achieve her dreams about me.”

For a second, I can’t say anything. I just stand there, watching the guy who hides behind sarcasm and lazy smirks-now looking like he’s holding himself together.

Guilt curls in my stomach. Why the hell did I grumble about wearing my best dress? About the long drive? God, I feel awful. How did I not piece this together when he drove in here?

Oh, Katy Evans, you absolute idiot.

When I notice he’s still watching me, waiting for maybe a word, or just a reaction, I quickly clear my throat and force a tiny smile.

“You should’ve told me,” I whisper, pressing my lips together. “I would’ve brought a gift or something.” I glance around, my voice small. “Don’t you think it’s kinda awkward to meet your mom without even a rose?”

He exhales, and I can almost see the relief wash over his features. My chest almost

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