Page 72 of Breakaway Hearts

Callie’s head snaps up as she looks at me, glancing between me and the now open doorway. “What?” she whispers. “Why did you do that?”

I shrug. “I wanted to go out with you without you having to play the fake girlfriend part. I just wanted it to be us. You and me.”

Something complicated crosses her face, an expression I can’t quite read, but it quickly transforms into a grin, and then a stern stare. I swear, this woman has lightning-quick facial expressions.

“Reese, that must’ve cost afortune.”

“It’s worth it.” I gesture to the door. “Come on, you’re letting all the cold in.”

She hurries inside without another word of protest, and the automatic lights flick on to reveal a connected, interactive art installation. Each step lights up the floor, and as you pass walls, a new image appears. Depending on which way you move, the image shifts.

“Oh my god,” Callie breathes. “This is even cooler than I imagined.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

I nudge her shoulder and am tempted to put my arm around her but remember that we’re not putting on the act today. Besides, it’s satisfying enough to watch her smile and dance so that the walls and the floors change. It’s like the fireflies are following her all over again.

“How did you even know I wanted to come here?” she asks. She raises her arms above her head, and a tulip blooms on the wall in front of her. She laughs.

“You mentioned it once. A few weeks back.”

She looks over at me, lowering her arms. “I did?”

“Yeah. We were just hanging out on the couch or something. You were scrolling on Instagram and saw an ad for it.” I tap my forehead. “I made a mental note.”

She bites her bottom lip and takes a step toward me before stopping. “Thank you. Seriously. That was so thoughtful of you. This is incredible.”

“Don’t mention it.” I drop my head a little, meeting her gaze. “I’d do it for you any day of the week.”

And it’s true. I would. I would drop anything and everything if Callie needed me. I hope this shows her that I mean it.

We walk through the light-up section, which is only the first part of the installation. Once we’ve both gotten our fix of manipulating the art, Callie and I head into the sculpture garden portion, complete with a faux lawn, a variety of plants, hanging fairy lights, and a gurgling fountain in the middle of it.

“I’m seriously so glad you brought me here,” Callie says as she stands in front of one of the sculptures. It kind of just looks like swirling DNA to me, but it probably means a lot more to her.

“I read about this artist, I think,” she tells me, leaning down to look at the nameplate. “Yup. She’s a Denver-based artist, and she’s done so much cool work. I’ve always wanted to try sculpting, but I’m not sure I have the eye for it. Or the patience. But if you look closely, here, you can really see how she makes the stone resemble fabric…”

She continues talking about the sculpture, which I realize now is the silhouette of a man and a woman dancing. You can see the figures from certain specific angles, but otherwise it resembles twisty-turny nonsense, at least to someone like me. Once she points it out though, it’s the only thing I can see, the intricate threads that tie it together—and it feels like, for a brief moment, I get to see the world through Callie’s eyes.

It’s a magical world.

One I wish I could always see.

“I hope I’m not boring you,” she says after a while. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and her eyes are still bright and enchanted. “I get carried away sometimes. I could go on and on, honestly.”

“Don’t stop.” I shake my head, surprised at her sudden self-consciousness. “It’s not boring, I promise. You could never be boring. I love how much you love art, and how you light up when you talk about it. It’s incredible.You’reincredible.”

She looks a little taken aback by my words, then laughs and shakes her head. “Well, I’m lucky I have a friend like you who’ll put up with my rambling.”

I know she’s trying to brush off my words, to downplay the compliment like she often does. But this time, I don’t want to let her.

“I mean it,” I say, stepping closer and tilting her chin up. “I’mthe lucky one, Firefly. Anyone who gets to spend time with you is the lucky one. You light up the world everywhere you go, and you can’t even see it.”

There’s a slight hitch in her breath, her full lips parting as she stares up at me. The beautiful green color of her eyes reflects the light of the art pieces all around us, so luminous and deep that I feel like I could fall right into them.

My fingertips are still under her chin, and instead of pulling back, I play with a lock of her hair, rubbing the delicate strands between my fingers before running my thumb along her jaw. Feeling almost hypnotized, I watch as I trail my finger down her throat, following the pulse that thrums there. I stop at her collarbone and press gently against the sensitive area of skin I’ve discovered during our lessons, and she shivers.

“Callie…” I murmur, although I don’t know how I’m going to finish that sentence.

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