Page 33 of Breakaway Hearts

I shake my head, my brows furrowing. “What?”

“My room has better light.” He shrugs. “That’s better for your painting, right?”

I open my mouth and then close it. What do I do with this information? I’m still not entirely convinced I heard him right.

But of course, I did.

This is Reese we’re talking about.

He’s right. I know him.

And this is exactly the kind of thing he would do.

“Reese,” I stammer. “Thank you. This is—you totally didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He shrugs, giving me a smile that’s almost boyish. “But I wanted to. I don’t care which room I’m in, and I want you to be comfortable while you’re here. That’s really important to me.”

His expression is so open and earnest, his brown eyes shining with sincerity. We’re close enough that I can catalogue the different shades of brown in his irises, which are darker on the outer edges and lighter near the pupils. His damp hair falls over his forehead, a single droplet of water trailing down his temple and over his jaw, and I have the sudden urge to run my fingers along that jaw. To see whether I can feel the rough hint of stubble or whether it’s smooth. To slide my hand through his hair, chasing more water droplets.

Oh god.

My stomach flutters, my breath catching in my throat. I shove those thoughts away, trying to bury them down deep. This would be the most inopportune time to have my teenage crush on Reese resurface. He and I are adults now, and the feelings I harbored for him when we first met are long gone.

Or at least, I thought they were.

“Thank you,” I say again, hoping he couldn’t read my face just now.

“You’re welcome.” He grins and takes a step back. “Don’t forget about the game tonight. You’re coming, right? I’m pretty sure you’re my new good luck charm, since we haven’t lost a game since we started ‘dating.’”

I crinkle my nose. “What about the green?”

He shrugs. “Eh, that too.” Then he jerks his chin. “Now get out of my room so I can put on my suit for the game.”

I roll my eyes at him, punching him lightly in the shoulder as I leave… but my heart is still pounding heavily in my chest as I make my way down the hall to Reese’s old room.

And my new one.

Chapter11

Callie

On Thursday night, I’m digging into the fridge for some leftovers I made the other day. Something simple to go along with a chill, relaxing night—pasta with veggies and an olive oil sauce.

Reese went out with the guys after practice this afternoon, and although he invited me, I declined so I could have a night home alone. Hanging out with kids and teachers all day drains my social battery more than I expect sometimes, and every once in a while, I need a reset.

I pop my leftovers in the microwave, and as I rest my hip against the counter and wait for my food to heat up, I glance around the kitchen. Then my jaw drops.

“No way,” I murmur, staring at the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table.

I snap a picture of it and text it to Reese.

ME: When did you start drinking Blanton’s?

Reese sends back a picture of his beer bottle with a winking emoji.

REESE: I would never. That’s for you.

My fingers hover over the screen, and it isn’t until the microwave dings that I realize I’ve spent a minute and a half without typing anything.

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