Page 16 of The Roommate Remodel

Yuck.The last thing I want is to be somebody’s dirty bandage left on the floor.

Sloan looks at me, and her face softens. “Look, I’ve been to a few weddings where people hooked up because they wanted the same happiness as the bride and groom. They were just drunk ontheideaof love. Not actually drunk, mind you. But the wedding makes anything seem possible. Even the fact that true love exists.” She shrugs. “It happens.”

“Not to me, it doesn’t,” I insist, my stomach sickening at the idea that I might have been drunk on love. I scrunch my eyes shut, trying to remember Brax’s exact words.Had he ever confessed that he wanted more than a fling?

My sister looks at me sadly. “You thought he was into you because he’s a flirt. Sports stars can be very persuasive. He probably hooks up with girls in every city.”

I open my mouth to defend...who,exactly? A guy who probably never cared about me in the first place? Or myself, when I should’ve known better? I clamp my mouth shut and kick a dustpan out of the way.

No wonder Brax never responded. Sloan’s right. It was his way of letting me down easy.The stupid girl who still believed love was possible.

Sloan shakes her head, just like when we were kids.

“Now what’ll we do?” I ask.

“Suck it up, buttercup. Apologize to him before we lose these renters.”

“I amnotapologizing,” I say firmly. Maybe he didn’t fully deserve what just happened, but I refuse to humiliate myself by apologizing to him.

“Don’t do it for him. Do it forthis house.For the life you want to make here.” She already knows that our money situation is dire. The endless house repairs and sizable mortgage have us strapped, especially since she can’t work right now.

I know what this means toher. She’s been cooped up in this house for four months since her car accident, unable to work and struggling with depression. Living with a bunch of live-wire hockey players would give her something to look forward to while she heals from her concussion. It’s a win-win for everyone...exceptme.

Can I survive seeing Brax every day? The painfully honestanswer is:I’m not sure.And I’m still not satisfied with his reaction about why he ghosted me. It seemed so unlike him. But then again, maybe I don’t know therealBrax MacPherson like I thought I did.

“Fine,” I mutter, not happy with this arrangement at all. “But I will not grovel at his feet.”

“Nobody said you had to.” Then Sloan gives me a reassuring smile. “I can see why you kissed him. And he has a twin to match? Good heavens, that’s too much!” She slips into Granny’s southern drawl and fans herself with her hand.

I laugh and grab her arm. “Sloan, let my mistake be your lesson learned. Don’t fall for a Mac brother.”

I straighten my spine and head to the kitchen without her, ready to choke out an apology I don’t want to give. I’m about to chug a cup of bitter humiliation and pretend it’s not pee water.

When I get there, Brax is alone, looking out the kitchen window like he’s lost in thought. For a moment, I’m swept away by this gentle giant in front of me. He’s as dangerous as he is beautiful, like a tamed stallion who can only be admired at arm’s length.

When I stop in the door, his head turns and the gentleness falls away, replaced by an intimidating coldness. He’s probably already thinking up all the ways he can ruin me.

I twist Granny’s opal ring on my finger as anxiety spirals inside me. “I came to...”

“Ask me to leave?” he finishes, rising to his feet. It’s not harsh or demanding. More like he expected it. “Vale and I can find another place to live.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I force out, the humiliation smothering my chest like a lead weight. I know Sloan is listening in the hall, and I hope Brax’s brother can’t hear or I’ll be mortified. “I overreacted when I saw you earlier. I’m sorry.” The word tastes like sawdust in my mouth. No matter what happened at that wedding, he should be the one apologizing for making promises he didn’t keep.

“This is...” He narrows his gaze, like he’s trying to figure out this sudden change of heart. “Unexpected.”

I don’t dare reveal to him our financial struggles. He’ll only pity me, and that’s worse than a forced apology. Not only am I unlucky in love (and apparently very susceptible to handsome groomsmen), but also desperate to help my sister.

He steps toward me. “I’m the one who should be...”

“Don’t,” I say firmly, putting my hands up. I can’t go there. “We’ll only argue more.”

The muscle in his jaw clenches again as something flashes in his eyes. Regret, maybe? Does he feel guilty for not calling... or guilty for kissing me?

I fold my arms across my chest and give him a look that makes it clear how things will be from now on.

Our kiss was a mistake.Hewas a mistake.

If I could, I’d erase the memory of that kiss with a bleach wipe for the brain. From the look on his face, he already has.

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