Page 90 of My Ex's Brothers

“And you’re like a black cat,” she says with a grin that goes straight to my cock. “Mysterious, a little bit bitchy.” She bites her lip.

“Unlucky?” I ask, teasing her.

“I was going to say—warm and soft beneath all the claws.”

I chuckle. “You calling me warm and fuzzy, baby girl?”

She shakes her head. “Maybe.”

She gets up from the couch and walks over to me. “I just don’t want things to be…weird. Between us. Given you guys are already helping me enough, and?—”

“Hey,” I say as I reach out to push some of her stray blonde hair behind her ear. “I told you not to dwell on that. We’re here for whatever you need us for.”

I lean down, capturing her gaze.

“Whatever youneed, Amelia,” I tell her, and she looks up at me with those wistful, bright eyes.

“I need my car,” she says softly. “And maybe to sleep until noon tomorrow.”

I laugh. “Well, both of those things can be arranged, but they will take time.” I give her a smile.

She leans into my space, twisting her lips as she looks up at me, and fuck if she isn’t a sight. Cute as all fucking hell.

“What else do you need, baby girl?” I ask as I lick my lips. I brace myself against the hood, holding her inquisitive gaze steady. “Don’t be shy. Whatever it is, you can ask.”

Finally she sighs. “I’m not entirely sure, I just…” She crosses her arms. “I just want to relax, I guess. Enjoy this time alone, but…” She leans against the hood next to me, her arm brushing against mine. “I haven’t been alone in a long time, and it feels weird. I tried to sleep. I lay there, just tossing and turning, thinking I kept hearing Lyla and?—”

She hangs her head, flashing her gaze up at me. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear any of this, I’m sure.”

“You can talk to me, Amelia,” I tell her. “I might not have the answers, but I can listen.”

The way her expression softens at my words makes my damn heart skip a beat.

I want to listen.

It’s funny, considering my ex-wife said I never heard her, when in fact, I heard every word. Every complaint and every gripe she had. For years, I stored them all, tried to quell those fears and disappointments, but in the end it wasn’t enough.

But with Amelia here, in my garage, I find myself wanting to listen. I find myself wanting to help. And that itself is a dangerous fucking thing.

“You know, after I got divorced, it felt weird to be alone. I’d lived with my ex for years, you know. You get used to someone, their routines, their little things they do that annoy the piss out of you,” I say, and she laughs.

It’s a genuine laugh.

“The stuff that drives you crazy,” she says. “You think you can’t stand it, until one day it’s not there and you kind of miss it.”

I nod. “Yeah. And the silence. The silence is weird.”

“So weird,” she says, shaking her head. “Lyla makes it easier, though.” She looks up at me from under her lashes and I can see the sadness there. “She makes it all worth it.”

I can only nod and agree, because the conversation is a hard one for me. I’ve never been able to relate to people with kids. So much of my life was spent around the topic it makes me a little jumpy.

She looks at me in question. “Dex said your divorce was because you didn’t want to have kids. Is that true?” she asks softly.

No one’s ever come right out and asked me that. I’ve heard plenty of whispers, and gotten plenty of looks, but not even my mother or my brothers came out and asked for the details.

Instead, everyone just banded together and told me they were there for me. Whatever that meant. I know they wanted to help, but I didn’t need anyone giving me pity or sympathy over something that died a long time ago.

I just wanted to move on with my life and start on a clean slate. I wanted to focus on my career on the ice and just putting one fucking foot in front of the other.

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