Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 50

KATY’S POV

“Did you get this cake from Lucy’s?”

Braydon stops chewing and looks at me, still holding his fork. “No,” he says after a second.” From Brown’s Pastry Shop.”

“Oh.” I nod slowly, tasting another bite. “It’s really good.”

He smiles a little. “I can tell you like it.”

I lean sideways and nudge him lightly with my shoulder, giggling. He chuckles, but then the sound fades after some seconds and the car slips into a comfortable kind of silence.

We both focus on the cake, eating in slow bites, parked almost right outside the cemetery.

I know it probably looks wrong-two college kids sitting in a car, and eating his mom’s birthday cake-but Braydon said it’s what she’d want. To celebrate her, not mourn. And I trust him on that.

“Thank you for doing this with me,” Braydon says suddenly and I glance over, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

His expression is soft, almost fragile in a way I don’t see often. I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to thank me,” I say quietly. “It’s… honestly an honor to be invited.”

He gives me a small smile, but I keep going before the silence swallows us again. “I’m sure Justin hasn’t come here, so that definitely makes me feel kind of important. Maybe even special.”

Braydon’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile and he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little egotistical?”

I gasp dramatically, clutching my chest. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

He chuckles. “You’re like Hermione from Harry Potter, but somehow even smugger.”

I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve read Harry Potter?”

“Of course.” He leans back in his seat. “I think everyone goes through a phase where they read it. My mom bought me the entire series when I was twelve and I read them like ten times.”

I grin, narrowing my eyes playfully. “Wow. I didn’t know you could read.”

He turns to me sharply, pretending to glare. “You’re impossible.”

I can’t help it…I start laughing and my stomach hurts a little. It feels good though, like the weight in the car has lifted just a bit.

When I finally stop, I pop the last piece of cake into my mouth. It melts too fast, gone before I’m ready and I catch myself almost wishing there was more.

All that driving for two hours left me hungrier than I thought. And because I might have assumed this was a date, I didn’t exactly eat before coming. Yeah, talk about clueless.

“Want more?” he asks suddenly, almost like he just read my mind.

I blink, caught off guard, then look down at the empty cake wrapper in my hand. When I glance back up at him, I catch myself biting my lip, debating.

A slow knowing smile starts to stretch across his face. He can tell I’m debating it, and he clearly finds that funny.

Before I can decide, he hands me the last slice and it makes it even more embarrassing somehow.

“Thanks,” I mumble, accepting it before taking a huge bite. The sweetness hits immediately, soft and rich, and for a second I forget we’re sitting in a car outside a cemetery.

When I glance at him, he’s leaning back in his seat, head tilted toward the window. His expression is unreadable, not sad exactly but just far away.

I wonder what’s going through his mind.

I’ve learned that Braydon isn’t as easy to figure out as I once thought. He laughs a lot, jokes around, fills silence like it’s his job but beneath all that noise, there’s layers to him.

He’s not a simple person. He’s someone you have to look twice to really see.

I know a few things about him, enough to think I understand but also enough to confuse me.

I know pieces of his life like he lost his mom to cancer last year. Bryan told me that much. But I still can’t figure out why she’s buried in Boston when their family home is in New York. Or why there’s such distance, maybe even resentment, between the two brothers.

Every time I think I’ve figured him out, something new slips through the cracks.

Honestly, Braydon’s like an onion and it feels like I can never reach the center.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, hesitating for a few seconds before deciding to poke a little. Just a little.

“Braydon.”

He turns his head instantly, eyebrows lifting like he wasn’t expecting me to speak. “Yeah?”

My fingers toy with the edge of the empty cake wrapper. “Can I ask you something?” I whisper. “It’s kind of… personal.”

He shifts in his seat, turning his body toward me and the car suddenly feels smaller, his muscular frame filling up the space between us. His long fingers rake through his hair before he nods. “Shoot.”

I take a breath, trying to find the right words. “I know it’s not really the best time to ask,” I start, my voice barely above a murmur, “but why is your mom here… in Boston, when your home’s in New York?”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. He stares straight ahead, and then he lets out a low scoff, more like a sigh with a hint of amusement.

“I guess you really do think about everything.”

I almost recoil, but I catch myself, trying not to let the shock show too much. I want to say Bryan must’ve taken after him but the thought feels cruel to voice out loud. Still, it lingers, burning at the back of my throat.

Braydon scoffs softly. “You look surprised.” His tone is almost teasing, but his eyes say something else. “Everyone always is, when they realize how screwed up my family really is.”

He leans back, the movement slow, like the conversation has drained something out of him.

”

“I don’t even know if it’s better or worse that she died believing I’ll be happy,” he murmurs. She wanted so badly to see the good in him. She even took Bryan in and treated him like he was her own.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “And the moment she was gone… he turned on me. Both of them did.”

A shaky breath slips from me. I can’t tell what hurts more….his story, or the way he’s learned to say it like it doesn’t.

“And then my dad wants her company,” he says, voice flat. “He’s so eager to get it that he’s doing everything he can. Hell, I even signed a sketchy deal with him to give everything up if I don’t graduate this year.”

He laughs once, but it’s hollow. “I don’t know how he can hate me so much, like I’m not his son. Why does Bryan get treated better? Why do I have to fight for things that should already be mine?”

When his eyes finally meet mine, they’re glassy like he’s fighting to stay composed, but it’s slipping. “Why am I alone all the time?”

My throat burns. I swallow hard, blinking fast as the sting rises behind my eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. The air between us feels too thick to breathe.

“Is… is that why you asked me to tutor you?” I finally manage, my voice trembling. “Because of the company?”

He nods, tilting his head back slightly as he blinks away the tears that threaten to spill. “I just want to prove everyone wrong, Katy.”

My heart twists painfully. It feels like it’s breaking and piecing itself back together all at once. I’d always assumed he needed tutoring just to stay eligible for hockey. I never imagined he was carrying all this.

How could someone go through something like this alone… and still smile every day? Still make everyone around him laugh? Still be the light in every room when no one’s been that for him?

I wipe my eyes before the tears can fall and take a shaky breath into my palms. “It’s so messed up,” I whisper.

His lips part like he wants to respond, but his voice catches. His eyes glisten again, and he looks away sharply.

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching out. My fingers brush his hand first, then settle there. “You don’t have to lock everything in. You… you’re not alone, Braydon. I’m here.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happens. He just sits there, shoulders trembling, and breath uneven. Then it’s like something breaks open. His tears spill over, and he tries to hold them back- veins tightening along his neck, his jaw clenched hard. But the sound escapes him anyway.

I move closer and gently guide his head toward me. He doesn’t resist. He lets it rest against my shoulder, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

“I’m here,” I whisper again, my hand threading through his hair. “You’re not alone.”