Clad in only his boxers, he padded out into his kitchen to find Lexie standing at the counter, a full fast food breakfast spread out on the island in front of her.
Wearing nothing but one of his well-worn deep blue Warriors tees that hit her mid-thigh, the curve of her ass peeked out below the hem when she moved.
Walking up to her, he slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Did you just get here?” he asked.
“No, I’ve been here for an hour or so,” she said.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so peaceful,” she said with a shrug.
“How are things with Berk?”
“Not great. I ended up spending all night with her. First holding her while she cried and then holding her hair while she puked up the three bottles of wine she chugged.”
“Christ,” Mitch rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw before jerking a hand through his hair to comb out the tangles. “That bad?”
Lexie nodded gravely. “It wasn’t pretty. She and Brent broke up, Mitch.”
Mitch stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Are you serious?”
The night before, the Warriors had won at home against the Buffalo Regents, allowing them to advance in the playoffs. It should’ve been a perfect night, full of celebration.
And it had been a great night, up until the moment Brent found out that Parker had attacked Berkley back in October.
Then all hell broke loose.
If management ever found out that Brent had punched his teammate not once but twice, Brent would be in more trouble than Mitch cared to consider, and they couldn’t afford to lose one of their top forwards in the middle of a playoff run.
After the display Brent and Parker had put on, Berkley fled the loft, and Brent chased after her. He and Lexie had assumed they’d talk and smooth everything over.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and Berkley called Lexie sometime later, crying and begging her to come over.
Apparently, she had dumped him, telling him she couldn’t be with him anymore because they were too different. Mitch was honestly surprised Brent hadn’t called him to tell him already.
“I can’t believe they’re just…done,” he said. “I really thought they were endgame.”
Lexie nodded. “Me, too. She’s such a mess. When I got there, she was crying so hard she could barely form sentences. She finally fell asleep in the middle of the night, but I didn’t want to just leave her.”
He reached for one of the coffees, taking a long pull from the cup–black, exactly how he liked it. “You’re a good friend,” he told her.
She shrugged. “I try. I just wish she wouldn’t self-sabotage herself like this.”
“She must get that from you,” Mitch said and instantly regretted it.
There go your chances of getting her naked this morning, Frambough, he thought.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“C’mon, Lex. You know…”
“I most certainly do not. How exactly do I self-sabotage myself?”
“This really wasn’t how I wanted to have this conversation,” he muttered. “But Lex…since we started sleeping together and hanging out, you’ve done nothing but remind me at every turn that it’s just sex. That we can never be anything more to each other. Don’t you think it’s time to give up the act?”
She settled her arms across her chest, glaring daggers at him. “It’s not an act,” she said defensively. “I can’t give you anything other than sex.”
