Chapter 31: The Fake One

My mother left at ten the next morning.

Nate begged her for the hotdish recipe, and she wrote it on the back of a grocery receipt.

"Pie for the road," she announced.

"There's a diner on Fourth," said Nate. "I'll drive you. I know the way, and I can carry the pan."

"You're a good boy," she said, and looked at me over his shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows.

I nodded.

She smiled to herself, got in the minivan, and followed Nate's truck out of the street.

The house went quiet.

Brody stood in the kitchen doorway with a dish towel in his hand and the face he wore on the ice before the puck dropped.

"Your mom thinks I'm the one who needs to hear something," he said.

"She's right."

"Maggie."

"Sit down."

"I'd rather stand."

"Then stand."

I leaned back against the counter beside the toaster.

"Two weeks to Homecoming, you said. It's been two months."

"I know."

"The deal was mine to end. I made that the term." I folded my arms. "So I'm ending it."

His knuckles went white on the towel.

"Okay," he said, very evenly. "I understand."

"No, you don't."

"I'll move out the spare mattress. I'll tell Nate it was..."

"Brody."

"Yes."

"The pretend is over."

He nodded, with his jaw working.

"What we have isn't pretend," I said. "It stopped being pretend before the shower."

I took a breath.

"So I'm ending the fake one, and I'm keeping the real one. That's my term."

He didn't move.

I watched the sentence reach him.

"Say it again," he said.

"The fake one's over."

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