Rooming With My Ex-Mate's Hockey Star Brother

”Goddess, this is embarrassing.” Her hand disappears into her hair. ”I’m standing here confessing my feelings after seven months like the crazy ex you warn people about.”

”You’re not my ex.”

She goes still and glares at me.

Probably not the part I should’ve corrected, but accuracy matters.

”You’re unbelievable. I even missed that irritating mouth of yours.” I’m not sure when being irritating became one of my better qualities, but I’ll take it. ”And before you act like this came out of nowhere, I did try to reach you. I texted from a different number.”

My forehead tightens. ”I didn’t know it was you.”

”I literally told you in the text, Trey.”

The message comes back to me, including the part where she gave me her name. So she caught me lying. Great.

That should make it even clearer that I’ve been avoiding this conversation. The ignored text, my attempt to leave, the complete lack of encouragement—none of it has been subtle. Dixie knows. She just doesn’t care.

”There was no reason for us to keep talking.” This is me being gentle. ”I told you what this was from the start, Dixie. Casual. You said you understood, but then you started asking for more and getting mad when I wouldn’t give it to you.”

”I know, but I’ve changed since then.” She steps closer, talking faster than I can interrupt. ”I can be normal about it. Seriously. Looking back, I know exactly what the problem was. I was jealous.”

Her mouth pulls into a small, embarrassed smile. ”I knew we weren’t together, but every time I thought you might be seeing another girl, I hated it. I wanted you to myself even though that wasn’t what we agreed on.”

At least she owns it now.

”But I get it.” Hope works its way back into her expression. ”I can work with what you want. If casual and private is all you’re offering, then we keep it that way. No expectations this time.”

There’s probably no polite way to tell her I’d rather be anywhere else right now.

”I’m not looking for that anymore,” I say.

Her fingers close around my arm when I turn away, stopping me. I look down at her hand, then back at her.

She releases me quickly. ”Are you still mad at me? Is this a me thing?”

I shake my head. ”No.”

Her gaze moves slowly over my face, looking for something I’m not giving her. ”You’ve changed.”

”You told me five minutes ago that I haven’t.”

”Well, I was clearly wrong.” The softness disappears from her expression, replaced by a glare I remember much better. She folds her arms across her chest. ”Because I’ve heard some pretty ridiculous rumors about you lately. Some girl even got added to the WAG group. I couldn’t make it to the Delta Rho party because I had a shoot, but I heard what happened.” She tilts her head, waiting for my reaction. ”Is this because of her?”

”No.”

”Then what is it?” The question comes out close to a whine. ”I’m not trying to pressure you, Trey. I just want to understand. We could figure something out, okay? It’s not like we have to start fucking again tonight.”

Calling this anything other than pressure is generous. I’m one more question away from being compressed into a gas canister.

”I can give you what you want.” She bobs her head eagerly. ”You remember what it was like between us. You loved the way I felt. You loved my tongue and what I could do on my knees. I can be your good girl again.”

I drag a hand through my hair as several memories I don’t need right now come back with uncomfortable clarity.

We had a good time. A very fucking good time, if I’m being honest, and I’m not going to pretend four months of sleeping together were terrible just because of how badly things ended. I liked having sex with Dixie. She liked having sex with me. That was supposed to be the beginning and end of it.

Except it stopped being enough for her, and every conversation like this makes me feel guilty for indulging in the first place even though we both agreed on what it was. I can’t do the jealousy again. The questions, the expectations, the constant hope that if she stayed long enough, I’d eventually give her something I never promised.

”Dixie.” I say it with enough force to make sure she’s listening. ”You’ve made a name for yourself. I hear about you all the time now. You’ve got the followers, the shoots, all the shit you used to talk about wanting.”

Her expression shifts, but she stays quiet.