Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 72

BRAYDON’S POV

You never really know what someone’s carrying. You never know the battles they’ve fought, the ghosts that still linger, or the parts of their past they hide behind a laugh or a smile. And I’ve realized something, especially here in college, that the ones who smile the brightest often have the deepest, heaviest wounds.

Last night, Katy opened up to me but getting her to stop crying wasn’t easy. It took almost an hour of lying in bed, and holding her, while I whispered to her. Half the time I think I was just talking to myself, hoping she’d latch onto something steady.

Once she finally fell asleep, I thought I could crash too. Nope. My mind wouldn’t shut off. Every word she said kept looping over and over. It pressed down on me in a way I didn’t expect.

So I held her closer and tighter. It wasn’t just about making her feel safe, I was selfish too because for some reason I can’t explain… holding her was the only thing that made me feel like I wasn’t breaking too.

I mean, I’ve known Justin since freshman year. I remember meeting him on the very first day of college and he helped me set up my TV. I don’t even remember what we said, really, but somehow that was it. We clicked and he’s been my buddy ever since.

But his past? That’s always been a locked box. Every time we bring up parents, he changes the topic faster than you can blink. I did know he’s an orphan but that’s it. Everything else? I’ve been in the dark. Last night, I realized why he boxed everything up.

I’ve always thought my life was messed up with my dad constantly being my loudest hater. But Justin hasn’t had none of the warmth, none of the love most of us take for granted. And yet he’s still… himself. Strong, cool, and unbreakable.

And then there’s Katy. She’s kind, genuinely warm, beautiful inside and out, and she wears her heart on her sleeve like it’s no big deal.

God… I just want to make them happy. Both of them. I want to fill up every little empty space in their hearts, if I could.

“I’m ready.” Katy’s voice snaps through my thoughts, and I flinch. I turn, and she’s standing by the bathroom door, all dressed up for us to leave. “This shirt… it’s a bit oversized, isn’t it?”

I get up, walk over to her, and instead of answering, I cup her face with both hands and press a quick kiss to her forehead. Her eyes go wide in total shock and I can’t help the small grin tugging at my own lips.

“You look perfect,” I whisper.

She presses her lips together, eyes glimmering. “Thank you.” She glances at her phone, then yelps. “We need to leave so we don’t miss our flight!”

I glance at my wristwatch and raise an eyebrow. “We still have, what… two hours?”

“I don’t like being late,” she counters, all serious.

“We are not going to be late,” I say, grabbing her bag. “Come on, let’s go.”

“It’s not… beautiful enough,” I mutter, scrolling through the photos on a website. The Wi-Fi is barely holding, and every page takes forever to load. I sigh and slump back in my seat, glancing over at Katy. She’s got her headphones on, leaning against the window, and napping.

Of course, I have to figure this out before she wakes up because I can’t even let her know what I’m planning.

I’ve already checked every single spot Google suggested for asking a girl out in Boston. Five? Six? I’ve lost count. None of them feel right. It’s either too cheesy, too touristy or boring.

I lean my head against the seat, running a hand through my hair. I just want it to be perfect. Every little thing. Because this little whirlwind of a girl beside me deserves nothing less. If I find the perfect place, I’ll have just one thing left: talking to Justin.

“Are… we… mmm… there yet?” Katy mumbles beside me, half-awake from her nap. I quickly shove my phone into my pocket and turn my attention to her.

“You were snoring,” I say, trying not to grin.

Her eyes snap open, and I bite back a laugh. “Was I?” she asks, glancing around.

I can’t hold it in anymore and laugh, tugging at her legs playfully. She rolls her eyes and sinks back into her seat, pretending to be annoyed.

“These seats are so comfortable,” she yawns, stretching slightly. “Now I get why people pay for business class.”

“We should’ve flown first class,” I tell her, smirking. “But you’re a miser.”

“It’s a two-hour flight, Braydon.” She gives me a look that says I’m being dramatic again. “If you’re that desperate to spend money, invest in my BlackRock grant product and I’ll give you interest when I win.”

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