The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Jake: Because when I stroll in like I own the place as Christian and tell the doorman I forgot my keycard, it’s better to know his name.

Oh gosh. Alrighty then.

Bella: What should I bring?

Jake: I got everything covered. What’s the earliest he’ll be home?

Bella: I’d say seven since practice won’t end until six.

Jake: OK. I’ll be there by 6:30, just in case.

Bella: I’ll do the same. But text me if anything goes wrong and you don’t get in!

Jake: Will do. But won’t be a problem. I’ve fooled our mother.

I laughed. I loved the relationship those two had, and I thought a little surprise party might be exactly what Christian needed. He’d been so stressed this week about the game and making it into the playoffs. So a double celebration for the win and his birthday should be perfect.



***



“Hey, Miss Keating.” Fred, the doorman, waved. He thumbed toward the elevator. “Christian got in a few minutes ago. He said you were coming by and to wave you up.”

I hoped Christian meant Jake, since practice had ended even earlier than planned. I smiled. “Thank you.”

When I stepped off the elevator inside Christian’s apartment, I still wasn’t sure until I saw Lara, Jake’s fiancée. She was in the living room with two women I’d seen at Lara’s party, but hadn’t had a chance to meet. They were hanging a happy birthday sign at the top of the windows, and there was already a big spread of food set up on the dining room table.

“Hey.” She came down and greeted me with a hug.

“I guess it worked?”

“It’s a little scary how easy those two can pretend to be the other.” She looped her arm through mine. “Come meet my sisters.”

Lara introduced me to Kara and Sara.

“Your names are Lara, Kara, and Sara? Do you have any brothers?”

“Thankfully, no. Because if Kara was a boy, our mother was going to name him O’Hara.”

Jake walked over and lifted me off my feet in a bear hug. “Hello, boss lady.”

I laughed. “Did Christian tell you he calls me that?”

He set me down. “Nope. But we share the same DNA, so that doesn’t surprise me.”

It really was uncanny how much they looked alike. “I was thinking on my way up in the elevator—do you think Fred is going to spoil the surprise? He’s going to see Christian walk in again when he never saw him walk out?”

“Thought of that earlier. So I called down a few minutes ago and said to let you and my twin brother come up when you arrive.”

“Oh, good thinking.” I looked around. “Was Tyler able to come?”

“Nah. He has to work until midnight.”

I nodded. “Practice ended earlier than scheduled, so we probably won’t have to wait long for Christian. Are we hiding when he walks in?”

“Absolutely. The two of us have been hiding behind doors and scaring the crap out of each other since we were kids. It would just be wrong if we didn’t.”

I smiled. “Alright. I’ll put my bag and jacket in the bedroom then. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”

Inside Christian’s room, I found that his bed hadn’t been made, and the throw pillows were strewn all over the floor. After I peed, I figured I’d make it for him so it would look nice if anyone wandered back here. When I pulled the sheet and cover up, there was something lumpy underneath. A manila envelope was buried halfway down, with a bunch of papers scattered haphazardly underneath. Neatening everything into a pile, I moved it all to the end table and finished making the bed. Then I walked around and picked up all the throw pillows. The last one was on the floor at the foot of the bed, and I tossed it toward the top. It created a little breeze, and some of the papers I’d just set down blew onto the floor. I bent to collect them, not really paying attention until the bold heading at the top of one page caught my eye: Bergen County Police Department.

Had Christian gotten into an accident? I couldn’t help but snoop. Though I only made it a few lines down before my heart stopped. Victim’s name: Rose Keating

What the hell is this?

I scanned the rest of the page, confused. It looked like a copy of the police report from the accident that killed her. But why would Christian have this? I skimmed through the stack with a lump in my throat—they seemed to all be about my mother’s accident. Some of them looked vaguely familiar from my weekly visits down to the police station after she was killed. The detective on the case had been so nice and treated me like an adult, even though I was only fifteen. He’d sometimes share updates and show me things from the file when he could. But after about a year, he’d told me the case was being moved to cold cases, and my weekly visits needed to stop. He’d promised to call if there was ever any new information. But my phone never rang.

After I went through the loose papers, I emptied the contents of the manila envelope onto the floor. More stuff from the accident. This had to be the entire police file. With each page I examined, my insides grew more and more shaky. One page in particular caught my attention—a picture of tire marks. Seeing them caused a fifteen-year-old memory to flash in my head.

I’d been sitting at the lead detective’s desk at the police station a few weeks after the accident. It was the first time I’d gone down to speak to him. He’d opened the case file to show me some documents from his investigation, and a picture of tire marks had been on top. He’d quickly turned the page, and when I’d asked to see it, he’d said he didn’t think it was a good idea. When I pressed, he’d frowned and quietly explained that the tire marks weren’t on the street. They were on the body.