Page 56 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
“How, uh, how much did she tell you?” I barely choke the words out, then suck in a much-needed breath, my lungs stinging as they expand.
Shit. Pull it together, Wolfie.
“Breathe, dude,” Connor says.
As if I’m not fucking trying. What do I usually do when I feel like this? Run? Fat chance of that right now. My legs feel like spaghetti noodles.
Spaghetti. Which just makes me think of Penelope and her homemade pasta sauce.
Shit, I’ve got it bad.
“Wolfie. Look at me. I’m not mad at you.”
Per his request, I raise my eyes to meet his, and am surprised to see him smirking around his pint glass as he takes a long, drawn-out sip, then sets his beer down on the wood-topped table with a thunk. “I didn’t invite you here to rip your balls off, dude. Relax.”
I force a laugh, but it comes out just as awkward and shaky as I feel. Not at all convincing. “If you say so. Still, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks. “Sorry you got involved with her?”
“No. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. And sorry I hurt her. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I think people rarely intend to hurt other people. But they still end up hurt, and we still have to be responsible.”
I nod solemnly. No one understands hurt better than me.
“She told me how it started—that at that work retreat, she played you off as her boyfriend.”
I nod. “That was surprising.”
Without my permission, a small chuckle escapes my lips. She was so brazen back then. So sure about what she wanted. To my shock, it was me.
Although, to be fair, maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised. I’d noticed the way Penelope’s gaze seemed to be drawn to me whenever we were in the same room, how her eyes would wander to my lips when we spoke. I just kept telling myself I was imagining it, that there was no way a girl like her could be interested in a guy like me.
Connor leans forward. “So, why’d you cut things off?” he asks, one brow arched.
I bite the inside of my cheek until my mouth fills with the taste of blood. I want to lie. Or better yet, I want to get up and get the fuck out of here. But something has me rooted to this bar stool. For the first time in too damn long, I’m not going to run. I’m going to be honest.
“Listen, you know how I am,” I say, focused more on my beer than on Connor. “I’m complicated. She doesn’t need that kind of shit in her life.”
“You’re right,” he says bluntly.
Surprised, I recoil. That wasn’t the response I was expecting. “I am?”
“Sure.” He shrugs, wiping beer foam from the edge of his glass with his thumb. “If you’re going to be so hot and cold, back and forth, then that’s complicated. She doesn’t need that. What she does need is someone to be good to her, make her happy. You did that, from the sound of it. But you’ve got to stop running from her and then crawling back. Stay and commit, or walk away. Those are the only two choices. What’s it going to be?”
The question hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. “I can’t be with your sister,” I grumble. “It’s not fair to you.”
“No, what’s not fair is you giving her mixed signals, and me having to defend the fact that you’re a good guy. Which you are, Wolfie. You know that, right?”
My stomach twists. Shit. Do I know that?
I’ve always thought I was all right, good enough to get by. But good enough for someone like Penelope? Not a chance. But that doesn’t seem to be what Connor thinks. Or what Penelope thinks. So, maybe I should stop thinking it too.
Before I can say a word, Connor’s eyes narrow as he pushes his beer aside and plants his forearms on the table. “Look. Shoot me straight. Do you care about her?”
“Of course I care about her,” I say quickly.
“No, dude. Do you care about her? Don’t make me get all mushy-gushy about it.”
I gulp down air, settling the fear and guilt in the pit of my stomach with every breath. “I was falling for her, Connor.”
“Then stop making it more complicated than it needs to be.”
I take another long gulp of my beer, eyeing Connor from behind my glass. “Since when are you so wise about this shit?” I don’t say the rest of what I’m thinking, which is . . . Why aren’t you mad? Why aren’t you threatening to cut my balls off?
He smiles and lifts a shoulder. “Maybe I’m just practicing my good, fatherly advice. You’re one of the good ones, Wolfie. I trust you with my sister, man. And you deserve to be loved and to be happy.”
