Page 21 of My Brother's Teammates

Everything’s fine, thanks. I moved into your building—actually into your old room—with three of your teammates. Oh, and I’ve daydreamed of riding each one of them like the mechanical bull down at the Lickity-Split Saloon.

Don’t think that’ll go down well.

“Yeah, doing okay, thanks.”

“And Shane?” His tone always changes when he talks about my ex. It gets deeper, more rumbly. But you know, since Harrison wouldn’t piss on Shane if he was on fire, it suits.

He’s going to be thrilled that we’ve broken up. The fact that he’s kicked me out of the apartment I’ve been paying for, not so much.

“Uh. I wanted to talk to you about Shane.”

He grunts, his focus on the brunette as she leans over the counter. Maybe him being distracted will make this a little easier. I just need to rip off the Band-Aid.

I’m a bad bitch. I can do this. Despite my heart beating a hundred miles a minute and my insides twisting into knots.

I take a sip of my tea, hiding most of my face behind the cup, and let the words fly. “We broke up Saturday night.”

Harrison’s eyes go wide as they swing back to me, and he almost drops his fifteen-buck cup of coffee. “Fuckin’ finally! Good for you. What was the straw that broke the too-good-for-that-fucker’s back?”

“Oh, you know.” I offer a half shrug, like that’s all the explanation he needs. “Finally found my self-worth and all that jazz.” I flick my hair like I mean it, hoping he’s not paying close attention to my eyes, because I sure as hell don’t feel it all the way to my core.

“Good for you. He move out?”

I’m suddenly very interested in my cup of Darjeeling tea. Oh, this logo is super cute. Don’t know why I didn’t notice it before.

“Peanut?” His voice softens, and dammit, he’s giving me that big brother stare-down. “Did Shane move out?”

The weight of his gaze on my face burns, just like the lie sitting on the tip of my tongue. “Uh, well, his name is on the lease, so we thought it would be better for me to move out.”

Harrison is still, quiet, his breathing heavy, and he doesn’t speak for a long minute. He always does this when he’s super pissed… the calm before the storm. “Charlotte?” Gone is the softness, the nickname, his distraction.

“Mm-hmm?” My eyes go back to my cup, my fingers tracing the logo. I can’t look at him, and even worse, I can’t stand the thought of lying to him, and I know I’m going to have to if he continues with the questions. I still don’t quite understand why the boys don’t want Harrison to know we’re living together right now. Sure, he’s going to be pissed, he’s probably going to yell, but he’ll be grateful they let me stay, even if it’s only for a few nights.

Or at least, I hope.

Then again, he could show up, demand I pack my life back up in those suitcases he got me for the trip to Paris I never took, and take over. Yeah, I see how this isn’t ideal.

“Do I need to organize an alibi? Get a shovel? Find a shallow, unmarked grave?”

I snort. “No.” Waving him off with a flap of my hand almost knocks over the glass of water sitting next to my cup of tea. I’m doing really well at playing it cool. “I slashed his tires and switched out his shampoo for hair dye before I left. I handled it.”

He falls quiet once again, and I’m starting to think I might have gotten away with only a few short questions, but after a long slurp of his fancy coffee, my big brother taps my foot with his, making me look up to meet his piercing gaze. “Where are you staying right now?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

I don’t want to lie to him. I never lie to him. I’m not even sure I know how.

And while this is what I’ve been waiting for, I’m not convinced I have the acting skills to convince him that I’m doing okay. Because I’m not. I still cry myself to sleep some nights at how my cards have been dealt, and a part of me, a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty piece of me, somehow still misses Shane.

And I hate myself for it. And I hate myself even more for the lie that’s about to fall out of my mouth to my brother.

“Just crashing with a friend across town.”

“What friend?”

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