Page 21 of Breakaway Hearts

I see why immediately. There’s only one available chair left. There must’ve been some mix-up with the guest list, and since we’re the last to arrive, there aren’t enough seats at the table for both of us. Other people are still milling about the space, mingling and rubbing shoulders with their fellow guests, and Callie nudges me as she murmurs, “I don’t need to sit here. I can go try to find another table.”

“I can move,” Maxim offers.

“No, no.” I take Callie by the hand and escort her to the single seat. “We’ll make it work.”

I sit and pull her onto my lap. Her eyes go wide, and she squirms slightly as I wrap an arm around her waist.

“Reese,” she hisses, turning her head to whisper in my ear. “I should just find another table. This is a fancy event, and I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything. And besides…”

She trails off, glancing away. There’s something vulnerable and self-conscious in her expression, and I feel the strongest impulse to wipe that look off her face. To banish whatever it is that’s making her look unsure of herself.

“What is it, Firefly?” I ask in a low voice. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and little goosebumps appear on her arms.

“It’s just…” She grimaces, shifting on my lap again. “I might be a little… big for you. I’m too heavy to stay on your lap like this for long. You can put me down. I’ll go to another table or find another chair—”

“You’reperfect,” I say firmly. I want to shake my head at her, to tell her to never think that way about herself, never doubt that sheisn’tperfect, but now isn’t the time or place. “I can more than handle you. You’re gorgeous and incredible. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She sucks in a small, sharp breath, her green eyes locking with mine for a moment. Then she nods and relaxes a bit, settling easier onto my lap.

Good.

I wasn’t lying. She’s nowhere near being too much for me, and her plush curves fill my arms perfectly as I secure her against my body. If anything, it feelstoogood to hold her like this. I’ve always known that Callie is gorgeous, but this evening has made me intimately aware of that fact in a way that I’ve spent years ignoring.

The conversation around the table continues, Grant and Owen picking back up a heated debate they were having before we walked in.

The booming voice of Coach Dunaway reaches us a few minutes later, and we all look toward the door where he’s shaking hands with the event organizer and laughing. His wife stands next to him, a tall woman with long brown hair, along with his daughter, Hannah, whom we rarely see. She’s got striking features, and she’s a bit younger than Callie, I think. Maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. She looks a little bored, glancing around the large room as her parents schmooze with the organizer.

“I’m surprised he brought Hannah,” I comment. “Seems like he usually makes it a pointnotto bring her to team events and shit.”

“Yeah. He told me once that he’d never let her date a hockey player,” Noah says. “Which probably explains why he doesn’t bring her around much.” He smirks, glancing around the table. “Because he doesn’t trust any of you assholes.”

“Yeah, hockey players really are the worst.” Theo chuckles, leaning back in his seat. He shoots Callie a glance, amusement sparking in his green eyes. “You must not have gotten that memo, but it’s not too late. You can always break it off with this clown and find a nice sensible businessman to date.”

Callie laughs, turning to look at me. “Thanks for the warning, but I think I’ll keep this one for a while. He’s kind of growing on me.”

She runs a hand through my hair and brushes her thumb against my cheek as she speaks, and I tense at her casual touch, caught off guard by how natural it was for her. What’s worse is that something inside me stirs, responding to the feel of her soft fingertips against my skin. My cock twitches, and I clear my throat, hoping like fuck that she didn’t feel anything against her ass, which is nestled firmly against my crotch.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask, the words coming out a little hoarse. Honestly, I just need an excuse to stand up.

“Sure,” she says with a smile.

She slips off my lap, and I stand, letting her settle back onto the chair I was just occupying.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her. “I doubt they have Blanton’s, but I’ll get you a whiskey cocktail, does that work?”

“Sounds great.”

She nods, and I turn and stride away, heading toward the bar that’s set along one wall. I scrub a hand through my hair as I walk, not even caring that I’m probably mussing it up as I try to clear my head.

Come on. Get it together, Sutton.

Chapter7

Callie

I plop down onto the seat while Reese goes to grab our drinks. I have to say, I’m relieved to have a backrest that isn’t my best friend’s hard body, although it felt strangely nice to have his arms around me.

The second he pulled me down onto his lap, panic flared inside me, sharp and sudden. I love my body, but it’s hard not to feel self-conscious sometimes. Austin once made a joke about how he couldn’t feel his legs after I sat on his lap for a little while, and that comment has stayed lodged in my mind like a burr, even after our breakup.

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