Page 9 of My Brother's Teammates

Mateo offers me a lopsided smile. “The usual roommate stuff. Stay out of our stuff, don’t use all the hot water, don’t clog the shower…” He moves his hand like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and touch my auburn curls. If he gets close enough, I’ll bite his hand. Don’t fuck with the curls. End of story.

I turn to Roman next. “What about you?”

“I’m allergic to nuts. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill me.” His full-wattage grin is disarming, but I refuse to let any of them see that they affect me. “Consuming, not airborne.”

“I’ll do my best.” I return his easy smile with one of my own. I hook a thumb over my shoulder, figuring it’s pointing in the general direction of the front door. “I’ll go call Harrison and tell him we’re neighbors.”

All three guys are on their feet with a chorus of nos.

“You’re kidding, right? I need to tell him where I’m staying.”

“Not yet.”

“It might not work out.”

“You might find somewhere better.”

Chickenshit fuckers. They don’t want Harrison to kick their asses, more like. Plus, if Harrison knew I was going to be cooking and cleaning for these pigs, he’d probably just buy me a freakin’ apartment on the other side of town. Far, far away from the three of them.

As tempting as it is to call in my moneybags big brother to get me out of this mess, I really don’t want Harrison’s pity—or his money.

Teammates or not, he’s not going to be thrilled with this situation regardless of when he finds out. And he will find out. He’s literally a floor below us. There are only two elevators in this building, and no large planters for me to hide behind. Not to mention my Camry’s in the parking garage. It might be a popular car, but he’ll connect the dots eventually.

I’m already on record as wanting to tell him though.

If these dumb fucks want to keep my presence a secret from him, that’s on them.

Mateo taps his phone a couple of times before waving his screen at me. “Pizza will be here in twenty.”

My stomach growls, letting me know how little I’ve eaten today. Without saying another word, Jace leaves, stalking toward his bedroom. Hopefully he gets over himself enough to make this work. I don’t want to spend my time here walking on eggshells.

“Let me show you around.” Heat from Roman’s hand radiates through the thin material of my tank at my lower back as he guides me around the apartment I’ve already mostly seen. I think he’s trying to be polite, break the ice, but it just feels awkward. Not that I’m going to tell him that because who knows how long it’s going to be before another man touches me.

It’s a luxurious penthouse, open floor kitchen, living room, and dining room, with two hallways going off the main area. The bedrooms face each other in sets of two, and each room has an en suite. My favorite part is the balcony that runs the whole length of one side of the apartment.

By the time dinner arrives at the front door, I already know I’m going to spend a lot of time out on the balcony. Alone. It helps that they have a killer view of the French Quarter, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than people-watching—even if the two million percent humidity will fuck with my hair.

I choose frizz over awkwardness every day of the week.

They don’t use a single plate or dish for dinner; they just line up the boxes on the kitchen table and then it’s a free-for-all. Not a napkin in sight. The pizzas—plural—are practically inhaled before I can blink, which I’m grateful for because I can’t stand to be in this awkward fucking space for a moment longer.

As I clear the trash off the table, the guys disperse. Clenching my jaw to fight the brewing panic bubbling inside my chest, I blink back tears. This all feels like a big mistake. I’ve seen them together before, and I know this uncomfortable silence and small talk isn’t them. They very clearly feel weird in their own home, and it’s all because of me.

The three of them move to the living room, flicking the TV on. I can’t go in and join them. Not only was I not invited, but they’re three hulking brutes who’ve spread out to fill all the available seats. I don’t even know where I’d fit.

This isn’t going to work.

I need to find something else.

My stomach lurches, bile burning the back of my throat.

This was a mistake. I need air.

I burst out onto the balcony, gripping the railing with both hands as I let my head hang forward. How is this really my life?

This morning, I was perfectly content in a bland relationship with my long-term boyfriend. And now I’m single, living in a place where I’m unwanted, and I don’t know what to do. Hot tears stream down my face, and this time I don’t bother fighting them.

The more I think about it, the more I realize just how unhappy I was with Shane. I should have paid closer attention to the red flags when we were dating. Instead, I cut those suckers into hearts and made a paper chain.

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