Page 15 of Breakaway

“What does what mean?”

“Ma…something.” Her cheeks taint a shade of pink, seemingly embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

Nevaeh stares at me from under furrowed brows for a moment, then she shakes her head. “As long as it’s not ‘doll,’ you’re fine.”

“It’s not, I promise.”

A comfortable silence settles between us, our eyes locked on each other. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the way my body warms and my heartbeat quickens makes me break eye contact. She said it’s complicated between her and her boyfriend. Last night at the club is the best evidence of that. She’s dealing with a breakup, and making a move on her now? The most recklessidea ever. A ride on my Kawasaki is a way safer adrenaline rush. Risking my heart isn’t worth it, especially since it never fully recovered after my brother’s death.

“Where did you decide to go?” Nevaeh asks, sitting cross-legged.

“Vegas.” I subtly move away from her, putting more distance between us.

With her eyebrows pinched together, she studies me, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “You’re going to Vegas? Alone?”

“Now you sound like Colton.”

“Well, that’s because it’s weird. Most people don’t go to Sin City alone, Roman. Where is the fun in that? Who’s going to stop you from betting all of your money on red? Or from wasting your money at the strip clubs? Or from getting stupid drunk?”

“I will.” With a shrug, I glance at my brother’s jersey. “I know how to look after myself.”

When I return my gaze to Nevaeh, I notice her staring at Maksim’s jersey too. The last thing I need is her asking questions. These days, Mom is the only person I can talk to about my twin and have it hurt less and not more. The fear of losing my cool in front of someone I barely know—or, even worse, opening up to someone new—is huge. Not even my teammates know exactly what happened. Just Colton, but he never pushes me to talk about it. He understands.

The pain of losing such a big part of me is never-ending. It lies beneath all the bricks I built up around myself; it’s injected deep into my core. I don’t really let anyone close to me anymore, because anything can trigger it. Falling deep into the hole of self-destruction isn’t new to me…but I’m afraid next time it happens I won’t find a way out by myself.

“I hope you have fun,” Nevaeh says quietly with a small smile.

“Me too.” I shift, slowly calculating how I can retreat back to my room. I don’t want to make her feel unwelcome, even if I really do need a moment to myself. Her closeness plays games with my head, and I want it to stop. “Do you like your room?”

“It’s perfect. I honestly have no idea how I’m going to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Just promise to never drink that much again with someone you don’t really know. That will be enough.”

Bursting into giggles, Nevaeh leans closer until our eyes are level. “I promise,” she says, her gaze darting to my lips. The movement is brief, but I still catch it. Swallowing my nerves, I rear back and throw my hand over the back of the couch.

‘It’s complicated’ girls are taboo.

Thanks, inner voice. As if I didn’t already know that.

“What are you planning to do this weekend?” I even out my breathing, putting a polite smile on my face.

Nevaeh frowns, and scrunches her nose. She fidgets away from me until she’s out of reach. With her arms folded over her chest, she averts her gaze to her legs. “My priority is to find an apartment. Then I think I'll buy myself some ice cream and watch something on TV.”

“So you’rethatkind of girl?” I cock an eyebrow at her. “The kind who eats ice cream to forget about her problems?”

“Nothing makes me feel better than chocolate fudge brownie. You should try it; it’s heaven.”

“No thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”

Biting her bottom lip, Nevaeh looks around. She seems lost. What if my behavior confuses her? I’m acting like a jerk, giving her whiplash with how often my mood changes. Not that I can help myself…being attracted to someone I can’t have is a struggle. Reasons to stay away flash in my head. Too bad my heart lives a life of its own.

“It’s getting late,” I say, taking my feet off the coffee table. “I’m going to head to my room. I still have a suitcase to pack.”

Her hand flies to her hair, and she tucks a few locks behind her ear, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. I have an apartment to look for.”

We stand up at the same time, avoiding looking at each other. With a heavy heart, in an atmosphere that feels like there isn’t enough air, I go to my bedroom and don’t look back.

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