Page 9 of Breakaway Hearts

“Don’t mention it.” She flips her hand over beneath mine, squeezing my hand back.

Picking up her drink for her, I escort her over to the corner of the bar that’s been taken over by my teammates. Noah and Theo both shoot us curious looks, especially when I sling my arm over the back of Callie’s chair, but the two of them don’t say anything.

“I think we have a good chance at the playoffs this season,” Noah says, continuing the conversation he was in the middle of when we sat down, despite his raised eyebrow at the sight of my hand settled comfortably against Callie’s shoulder. He has one hand resting on Margo’s thigh, and she’s looking at us with a surprised expression too.

“Of course we do.” Owen Ashford, one of our first line defensemen, nods decisively. “Our forecheck is relentless, our power plays have been on fire, and our defensive zone coverage is rock solid.”

“I thought you guys played well tonight,” Callie quips. She swirls her whiskey in the glass appreciatively before taking another small sip. She’s never had any trouble jumping in with my teammates and at this point is almost an honorary member of the Aces. “If the ref hadn’t put Reese in the sin bin, things would’ve been fine. Blind call, in my opinion.”

“Nah, it was very illegal,” Theo says.

“Illegal indeed,” Noah adds.

Margo laughs. “Even I’ll say that’s true.”

“Yup.” I sigh.

Callie taps her fingertips against the edge of her glass. “Dammit. Maybe I’m just biased.”

“That’s okay,” I tell her with a grin. “I like you biased.”

The guys start bantering with her about what a great ref she’d make, especially if she’s biased toward our team, and I take the opportunity to glance at where Sienna is sitting with her friends from the legal department. They clink their glasses, and raucous laughter makes its way across the bar from their table. Grand old time they’re having, for sure.

The only one who seems a little out of sorts is Sienna. Her grin seems strained, and there’s something distracted about her demeanor, like she’s barely paying attention to what her friends are saying. Even her laugh stands out from the rest, coming a few seconds behind the others. She glances my way, and for the briefest of moments, we lock eyes.

I look away before our gazes can linger, but I can tell she’s still watching me. I can feel it.

She’s jealous.

Something about seeing me with Callie has got my ex’s full attention.

Pointedly ignoring Sienna, I shift my focus back to my teammates and Callie, who’s talking to Theo about his latest tattoo. The man has an addiction to ink, I swear.

I brush my fingers against her arm, and goosebumps erupt on the back of her neck. She stutters mid-sentence, and the guys trade looks again. Callie picks up where she left off, and things are normal. So normal. Except for my arm across her shoulders.

And Sienna’s glare from across the room.

We hang out for about an hour longer, shooting the shit and unwinding, and I don’t look toward Sienna’s table again. When Callie does her best to stifle two yawns in a row beside me, I chuckle and rap my knuckles on the table.

“Okay, it’s time to get you home,” I tell her. “I’ll drive you.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, frowning slightly as I help her to her feet. “You can stay with your friends if you’d like. I really don’t mind getting an Uber or something.”

“Nah, I want to.” I drop my head closer to her ear and lower my voice. “I owe you a lot more than a drink to repay you for what you did tonight. A ride home is the least I can do. And… I need to talk to you. In private.”

Callie’s cheeks are a little flushed when I pull back. Even though her drink of choice is expensive whiskey, she’s enough of a lightweight that she’s clearly a little bit tipsy from the two fingers of Blanton’s she drank.

“Are you sober? Can you drive?” She stands on her tiptoes and puts her hand on my cheek as if checking my temperature before holding a finger in front of my eyes. “I’m not getting into a car with a drunk guy.”

I lower her hand and smile. She’s always looking out for me, even if she masks it with her signature humor.

“Unlike you, I’m not even buzzed,” I assure her. “I only had one beer. And did you see me drinking water for the past half hour? Not to mention scarfing down that burger. I’m sober. But I appreciate you.”

Before she can come up with any other arguments, I rest my hand against her lower back and lead her to the bar’s exit. I’m sure my teammates are exchanging confused murmurs behind us, but I don’t dare turn their way. I’ll get shit for it tomorrow, but for tonight, I need to keep up the act.

But is this really so out of character for Callie and me? We’ve never shied away from physical contact—she hugs me all the time. Something about this feels different, though. Not uncomfortable, exactly. But also not normal.

“Reese!”

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