Final Play (Fake Boyfriend 6)

“So, she’s team Mom and Dad.” I eye her, trying to gauge her opinion of it. Maybe she feels the same but is desperate for money. Not that I wouldn’t give it to her if she didn’t “approve of my lifestyle” and all that other bullshit. Like Noah said, I practically raised my siblings, and while it breaks my heart that Daisy would choose our parents and their stupid views over me, I can’t help feeling responsible for them still.

I should maybe see a therapist about that, but whatever.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you agree with Daisy or Char?”

She cocks her head. “Don’t worry, brother. If I agreed with Daisy, I never would’ve come here. From what I can tell, Daisy’s the only one who got that gene.”

“How’s Wade?”

The smile that takes over her face makes me think of her when she was little. It makes my chest ache.

“Wade is the smartest of us all. He’s in all these advanced classes. He’s gonna be like a scientist or some shit. Maybe a doctor. Although, blood makes him squirm, so I don’t think he’ll be a good one.”

“Really?” Genuine pride fills my veins. “That’s so awesome. Is he happy? Did we …” Did we make the right decision leaving them in Tennessee?

“Did you what?”

Noah holds my hand and answers for me. “We’ve been wondering if we should’ve fought for you guys. Back when Jet turned up on our doorstep, we asked ourselves if we should try to move all of you here. But—”

“It wasn’t your job to raise us. Or take care of us.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I’ve always felt guilty. Like I should be doing more than sending money.”

Fern huffs. “You went through enough at home. I know that. I might not know exactly what, but gay guys in our town don’t exist. The ones who are don’t stick around, and it’s easy to see why. You don’t owe us anything. If it weren’t for this baby, I wouldn’t want my trust. Not because it comes from you, but because I want my achievements to be mine. Like my softball scholarship. You taught us all to make our own way by not even being there, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about getting yourself out of a shitty situation.”

It’s exactly what I need to hear.

“And Wade … he’s doing so well. I wouldn’t want to disturb that. But if you’ve got money for an Ivy League for him in a few years, I’m sure he’ll be grateful. Though I suspect he’ll have scholarship offers up the wazoo.”

“I’m so proud of you. Both you and Wade.”

She stares down at her pregnant belly. “Because I clearly make awesome choices?”

“You got a sports scholarship, Fern. That’s amazing. Even if you can’t accept it. You earned it.”

“I want to accept it. But I want a lot of things that aren’t possible.”

Noah downs the rest of his coffee. “I’m gonna go … uh … run some errands.”

“If I don’t see you before I leave for practice, have a good day,” I say, and he comes to kiss my cheek before heading for the door.

I hold my breath as I watch Noah leave. He should be here for this discussion, but maybe it’s too much.

Maybe it’s too much for me to ask this of him. He says he’s with me, but is he really? Or does he just know he has to deal with it because he knows I’m going to help my family no matter what?

Our group of friends doesn’t really understand my relationship with my family back in Tennessee. I don’t know if Noah or Jet told them or if they guessed that I’m financially supporting my homophobic parents. It doesn’t help that Jet said goodbye to them and that life the minute he stepped onto a Greyhound bus. What they don’t understand is, it’s not my folks I’m supporting but the kids I helped raised. I’d do anything for my siblings, even Daisy if she asked for it. Unconditional love is like that.

I reach for Fern’s hands, but she doesn’t lift her head.

“What’s wrong?” I place a finger under her chin and force her to look at me.

Her cheeks are wet with tears. “Everything?” She sniffs. “I had a plan. Fuckface and I had a plan!”

I huff a laugh. “Does fuckface have a name, or will he forever be fuckface?”

“Darryl. But fuckface works.”

“So, what was your plan?”

“I was going to go to college while he stayed home with the kid and worked nights.”

“That sounds like a hectic schedule for a seventeen-year-old.”

“I’m not dumb enough to think it’d be easy, but I don’t think it’s the money thing or the workload. I think his parents got in his head about it being the mother’s job to stay at home or some bullshit, because suddenly it’s like being a stay-at-home father is a threat to his masculinity or something.”