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I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “To hurt him the way he hurt me. Revenge.”

Caleb cocks his head. “And, if during the course of this revenge, he decides he has to have you back? What then?”

After what he did? “I don’t want him back.”

“But if he went to his knees, pleaded for you to take him back, and apologized from the depth of his soul. What then?” Reid asks.

I laugh. “He wouldn’t do that. You don’t know Marc like I do. He wouldn’t go to his knees for anyone.”

“But if he did?” Reid insists. “You were together for six years.”

“He won’t.”

The three men filling my room silently study me. They don’t believe me. I’m not sure why they’re convinced Marc will want me back. Whatever it is they see, I sure as hell don’t.

“The championship is weeks away,” Javier says, watching me so closely it’s like he can peer into my heart and read my doubt. “Can you see yourself doing this for that long?”

I’m not sure.

Maybe other girls would eagerly embrace the idea of fake dating three hot hockey players, but that is going to come with attention I neither need nor want.

Especially when my heart hurts, and all I want is to crawl into a soft, dark space and escape the sense that I was the one to fuck things up with Marc.

That I wasn’t pretty or interesting enough or into hockey like he was.

That something I did chased him away, and I’ll chase away the next guy I let into my heart.

I clear my throat. “And if my ex decides he wants me back?”

“Then you have a decision to make,” Reid says. “This can stop whenever you want it to.”

“But what about your part of the deal?”

Can I see myself chasing off the girls who distract them during practice and doing something about Caleb’s laser focus on the championship that threatens his mental health and potentially his body?

Uh, no. I don’t see that happening.

“We’ll handle it.” Reid gets to his feet. “If you’re not comfortable with this, then this ends.”

“And if you’re not comfortable with this?” I ask.

Reid’s smile is impossible to decipher. “That won’t happen. Oh, and you might need this.” Reid fishes a keycard from his pocket and hands it to me.

I frown as I take it. “Your keycard?”

“In case you need to get into our dorm. We’re all in Reynolds. Different floors, though. I have a spare in my room so you can keep that,” he says.

Javier picks up his phone. “I’m sending you a text with our room numbers.”

“Why would I need to know that?” I frown.

“You’re our new girlfriend. It’s going to be suspicious if you don’t know where we live, right?” Caleb asks.

“Right.” I cross over to my desk and rummage through a drawer, then hand Javier my spare keycard to get into the building. “Here’s mine. I only have one spare.”

“Don’t need more than this,” Javier says, pocketing it. “We can share.”

God. There’s that word again.

Share .

It makes me tingly every time I hear it.

“I, uh…” My voice trails off as they all look at me.

Surprisingly, none of them tell me just to get out whatever it is I’m hesitating over.

“Sometimes I have bad days,” I tell them, picking my words carefully.

Reid grins at me. “Yep. Us too.”

“I have Hashimoto’s disease,” I tell him, avoiding all their gazes. “It’s an autoimmune disorder, and it means there might be days that I can’t be what you need me to be.”

“Our needs are fluid,” Caleb says. “Mainly they involve us making this up as we go along. What do your bad days look like?”

My condition doesn’t steal large chunks of my day the way it used to. My daily thyroid meds help a lot in managing my symptoms.

“I can’t eat fast food, at least not all the time. So if we have to eat out, it’s probably something you should know about me. If I don’t get enough sleep, it can trigger a flare-up, which means I won’t be out playing fake girlfriend. That’s, uh… part of the reason I was never a big partier.”

“So, a flare-up is a bad day?” Reid asks.

It feels a little—scratch that, a whole heap more than a little—strange to be opening up about my symptoms and condition to literal strangers like this. But what is so surprising to me is how actively they’re all listening.

“Fatigue mostly. Feeling like garbage, muscle aches, my bones feel so heavy, and sometimes it’s like I can’t lift my head.

Reducing my gluten can help slightly, but not enough that I would give up pasta for it.

” Reid opens his mouth. I keep talking. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or…

” My voice tails off under his smile. “What?”

“I was going to ask if there’s anything we can do when you have these flare-ups,” Reid says. “You know, to help?”

I blink at him, surprised by how accepting he is about this aspect of my life.

I shake my head. “Just rest and keeping up with my meds.”

“Well, if there’s anything you think can help, let us know,” Javier says with a smile. “Thanks for being so open. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was surprisingly easy. Thanks for listening.” And I mean it.

As Reid and Javier leave, I hope I’m not making a big mistake, and this revenge mission won’t blow up in my face, causing more humiliation I don’t need.

“I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow morning,” Caleb says to Reid and Javier when they linger in the hallway.

Considering Javier told me to be ready to hit the mall at nine, I don’t even want to know what time they intend to hit the gym.

Reid and Javier glance at him and walk away, Reid smiling slightly as he nudges Javier.

I turn to say goodbye to Caleb, but he hasn’t moved. He’s still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, peering down at me.

And we’re alone.

In my bedroom.

All thoughts tumble right out of my head.