Page 137 of Breakaway Hearts

I should’ve told her then that I was falling for her.

I should’ve admitted the truth so much sooner.

If I had, would things have turned out differently?

I reach for the small paper bag on the passenger seat, curling my grip around the handle so tightly that my fingers start to go numb.

Now or never, Sutton.

Pushing open the car door, I stride as confidently as I can manage up to the apartment building’s entrance. My fingers shake as I press her buzzer, and she lets me up almost immediately.

My legs feel like lead as I walk up the stairs, nerves churning in my gut. Each step feels momentous, each slow inhale a hurricane in my lungs.

When I reach her unit, Callie opens the door before I can knock. Unlike the last time I was here, she’s not in a dress. Instead, she’s wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair is a wild mess, her face devoid of makeup, and she has fuzzy pink socks on her feet.

She’s stunning.

As our gazes meet, it feels like my heart starts beating for the first time in days. My tongue is knotted in my mouth, and it isn’t until she offers me a small smile that it untangles itself.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks softly.

Damn, I missed her voice.

“Yes.” I nod immediately. “Yes.”

When she shuts the door behind me, I’m struck by her familiar scent. Lemon and lavender tease my nostrils, and my chest aches with it. She bites her lower lip nervously as she steps toward the little kitchen.

“Tea?” she offers. “Coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” I say automatically.

“I know.” She goes still, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I have some. Just in case.”

I blink and swallow hard. Callie rarely has guests over, since she always says that her apartment is too small for hosting people. Does that mean she keeps coffee here for me? Hope bursts in my chest, mixing with the chaos of emotions there.

“Water,” I say in a hoarse voice. “Water sounds good.”

She pours us both water slowly, staring at the glasses intently instead of looking at me. The air in the room feels almost too thick to breathe, and I grip the bag I brought from the car even tighter. When she hands me my glass, our fingers brush, and hers are so cold that I want to pull them into my own so I can heat them between my palms.

“You grew out your beard,” she says.

I run a hand over my scruff. Honestly, I’ve barely looked in a mirror since Callie left. It’s not like a playoff beard or anything, it wasn’t an intentional choice. I just haven’t felt like shaving.

“Yeah.” I lower my hand and take a sip of water. “I’ve had… other things on my mind.”

Callie nods. She sets her water glass down on the kitchen table and then picks it up again, clearly needing something to do with her hands.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asks after a moment, her voice low. “In the interview. Did you mean it?”

If my heart felt like it was finally beating when she opened the door, now it feels like it’s on the verge of exploding out of my chest.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Every word. I meant all of it.”

She sighs, and I can’t tell if it’s out of relief or sadness. “Look, Reese, I—”

“I understand if you don’t want to take me back, but please at least listen first,” I say quickly, unable to keep the desperate note out of my voice. “I need you to understand exactly how I feel, and if you choose to end things between us at the end of it, then I’ll respect your choice. I’ll leave you alone, and we can figure out where to go from there. As… friends or whatever you want.” My voice cracks on the word ‘friends,’ and I wipe a hand over my face. “Okay?”

She nods, her green eyes pensive and her lips slightly parted.

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