Page 73 of Winning Brynn

Alex:Yep.

Alex:I'll give credit where credit is due... our man seemed to be doing a pretty good job.

Chapter Twenty-three

Leo

I can't meet Alex'seyes.

I was doing okay with the guilt of what I'd done, justifying it to myself just fine, until I saw the hundreds of calls and messages on my phone this morning.

He'dheardus.

He had literally heard me railing his little sister—or more aptly, his little sister railing me.

Then, as soon as I'd arrived at practice this morning, he'd cornered me in the locker room and goaded me for details. And by details, I mean that he wanted to knoweverything. Positions, foreplay, the tightness of her pussy, etc., etc. Not that I gave them to him, which he took as a sign that I really like the woman, because never in the history of our friendship have I refused to tell him everything he wanted.

And I do. Really like the woman, I mean.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that, the whole time, we were talking about Brynn. Not some random woman I'd met at a bar or on a dating app, but the one girl he'd made me swear to never touch.

I am a terrible, terrible person.

"Well, you've got yourself into quite the pickle, eh?"

Wind whips at my cheeks as I spin around to find Roman staring at me with a mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," I reply, the guilt in my voice as clear as the damn day.

"Hmm." He rubs his jaw conspiratorially, throwing his gaze across the grass to where Alex is doing kick-ups with Arun, Theo, and Harley. "So, it wasn't Brynn in your bed last night? Actually, no, don't tell me. I need to maintain plausible deniability."

"Shit." My head drops, my conscience heavy on my shoulders. "Shit, he's going to kill me."

"Yep." Roman nods his head, slapping me on the back in a way that says,You're a dickhead, but I'll be sad when you die. "He really is."

Digging the toe of my cleats into the ground, I kick at the semi-frozen turf. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He nods again. "You're so screwed."

"You could be slightly more sympathetic about my impending demise, you know?" I frown at him.

"What do you want sympathy for? If you'd kept your dick in your pants, you wouldn't be in this situation."

The asshole looks so smug right now in his training tee, arms folded across his chest as the breeze whistles around us. I both want to punch the arrogance off his face and beg him to hold me until the situation somehow resolves itself.

I could really use my mom right now. She would have known what to do, and if she didn't, she would have wrapped me in her arms, dropped a kiss to the top of my head and told me to "follow my heart." Because that's who she was. Warm, supportive, encouraging.

I've never needed her so much as I have this past year.

And now, the only person I have to talk about this with is the six-foot-whatever idiot in front of me who, sure, is one of my best friends, but who also lacks the emotional intelligence needed to help me in this situation.

"It's not even like that." I pause, shaking my head as I cast a glimpse at Alex on the far side of the field. "I like her, man. I like her a lot."

Roman snorts a derisive laugh. "You're confusing lust with feelings, bro. What do you even like about her? Her tits don't count." His chest rumbles with a silent chuckle, clearly finding himself far funnier than I do.

My fists clench at my sides. "Her tits are none of your business. In fact, forget she has them."

"Jesus," he sighs. "Sorry, it's just hard to believe since you couldn't even stand her, like, a month ago."

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