“I don’t understand why she gets more and I’m only good for . . .” She sniffs then straightens, wiping her cheeks. “Damn it, I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not. And I am sorry.”

“I really didn’t mean to fall for you.” She lifts her chin as if she’s grappling to find her pride. “We’re friends, and we were never supposed to be more. You never led me to believe otherwise. But I . . . wanted to.”

“I’m really sorry.” I could repeat myself a hundred times, but the words aren’t enough. I never meant to hurt her, but saying so now makes me sound like a massive cliché. Like I’m just an ass who’s delivering lines to get himself out of trouble.

“So . . . Teagan?”

I nod, and my stomach knots. “Yeah.” For now. And maybe not even that. This afternoon felt like it was about more than pleasure, more than getting off, but when she got that text, she shut me out. For months I’ve been dodging anything that resembled commitment, but suddenly I’m getting this ache in my gut when I imagine letting Teagan go. It doesn’t matter if this weekend is pretend. I already know it’ll hurt to see it end. Months messing around with Myla and Bethany and I was never tempted, but a couple of days pretending with Teagan and I already wish I knew how to make it real.

Myla drops her gaze to her shoes. “I know it sounds pathetic to ask, but what about her made you change your mind about relationships?”

“She’s . . .” Fucking amazing. Fun. Sexy as hell. And sweet in the most surprising ways. And this morning when she asked about my nightmare, I thought maybe she really might understand what I’ve been going through. “I’ve been carrying a torch for Teagan for a long time, and once she gave me a chance, I knew I didn’t want to let her go.”

Myla nods. “I’m so lonely, Carter. Maybe you and I aren’t a love match, but sometimes I think I’m not going to be a love match with anyone, and that is a really crappy feeling.”

Her words are a blow to the chest. I know what that feels like. I was searching for someone special for years before I changed my ways. Being alone and wondering if I’d ever find someone to spend my life with sucked, and I hate that I’m making Myla feel that. She’s my friend and I care about her, but right now it’s pretty clear that I should have been more careful with her feelings. “You’re incredible, Myla.” I blow out a breath and drag a hand through my hair. “In fact, I work with a couple of guys who have been hounding me for your number. Hank, in particular, really likes you.”

She smiles slowly and looks up at me through her lashes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I swear she stands a little taller. “You could give Hank my number. I mean . . . if that wouldn’t be too weird for you.” She blows out a breath. “But only if he’s looking for a relationship. I think this thing with you taught me something about myself.”