Page 3 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

"Brooke?" I keep my voice neutral, or try to. There's still a rough edge to it I can't smooth out.

Silence. For a moment, I think she's hung up. Then I hear her breathing, soft and quick.

"Brooke? You there?" I press the phone harder against my ear, like that might somehow bring her closer.

"Dean," she finally says, my name barely a whisper. "I need your help."

Three words, and I'm right back where I was two years ago—ready to move mountains for her. I clench my jaw against the instinct.

"That's a hell of a way to start a conversation after two years." I turn away from the truck, looking out across my land. Fifty acres of Colorado mountainside, the ranch house I built with my own hands sitting proud on the ridge. Everything I've poured myself into since she left.

"I know," she says, her voice stronger now. "I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this."

"But you need my help." I can't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Must be serious if you're calling me."

She takes a deep breath. "It's about my sister's wedding."

"Taylor's getting married?" Despite everything, I smile a little. I always liked her sister.

"Yes, in Hawaii. Eighteen days from now." Her words come faster now. "And my family…they don't know about us. About the breakup."

I freeze, my free hand tightening around the rag. "What do you mean, they don't know?"

"I never told them." Her voice is small, guilty. "I kept making excuses about why you weren't at family things, why I came home alone. They think we're still together."

The laugh that bursts from me is harsh even to my own ears. "You've been lying to your family for two years? Jesus, Brooke."

"I know it's bad."

"Bad? It's—" I cut myself off, running a hand through my hair, not caring about the engine grease. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because I couldn't face it!" Her voice cracks. "Everyone loved you. My dad practically started planning our wedding the day he met you. Telling them we broke up meant admitting I failed, that I ran away, that?—"

"That you chose your fancy New York career over us." The words taste sour on my tongue.

Silence again. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. "My mom called about wedding details. She wants to know what meal you want, Dean. She's expecting you to be there, to help my dad handle the groomsmen. Everyone's expecting us to come together."

And just like that, I see where this is going. The pieces slide into place like the tumblers of a lock.

"No." I say it flatly, turning back to my truck. "No way."

"Dean, please." There's genuine panic in her voice now. "I know it's asking a lot?—"

"A lot? Brooke, you're asking me to pretend we're still together. To lie to your family's faces. To act like you didn't walk out on everything we had."

"Just for a week. The wedding's in Hawaii—it'll be like a vacation. I'll pay for everything. Your flight, the hotel, whatever you need."

I close the hood of my truck with more force than necessary, metal slamming against metal. "I don't need your money."

"I know that." She sounds desperate now. "But I need you. Please, Dean. I'm begging you."

I lean against the truck, closing my eyes. I should say no. Every shred of pride I've rebuilt since she left is screaming at me to hang up. But beneath that pride is something else—something that never quite died, no matter how deeply I buried it.

The memory of her laugh. The way her hazel eyes catch the light. The feeling of her hand in mine, perfect fit.

"Why should I help you?" I ask, my voice rough. "Give me one good reason, Brooke."

She's quiet for a moment. "Because despite everything…we were friends once. Before we were anything else. And I don't have anyone else I can ask."

---