Page 19 of Breakaway Hearts

The Aces fly across the ice, moving in almost inhuman harmony, their voices echoing through the arena as they call out to one another. My gaze is locked on Reese. I always watch him when I come to games, but tonight, it’s like he’s the only one I can see.

He, Noah, and Theo work well together, seeming to share a brain as they work the puck across the ice. As the minutes tick away, they push closer to the Glaciers’ crease, each pass and shot punctuated by a collective gasp from the crowd. My heart thuds against my ribs, and I don’t even realize that I’m clenching my hands until I feel the bite of my nails against my palms.

Then, three minutes into the game, Noah manages to slip a precision pass to Reese, who fires a shot, threading the puck between the goalie’s legs.

I scream right along with the rest of the arena. I’m vaguely aware that Margo has left my side so that she can film the action from better angles, but I’m too busy cheering to pay attention to where she went. Reese does a victory lap around the ice while the rest of the Aces celebrate. He points at me, his mouth moving as he speaks, and even though I can’t hear him over the din of the crowd, I can read his lips well enough to know what he said.

That was for you, Firefly.

This time, there’s no containing my blush.

Chapter6

Reese

A few days after our blowout win against the Glaciers and another away game victory against the Knights, I adjust my tie in the mirror and smooth my hair back.

I’ve got a whole collection of suits that I wear to the arena on game days, but I’m wearing a different one tonight—because we don’t actually have a game.

Tonight is an annual charity event supporting one of Dunaway’s favorite causes: literacy for children in impoverished communities. It’s a cause I can definitely get behind, although I usually dread going to these sorts of black tie galas. They’re part of the life of a professional hockey player though, so I try to just suck it up and enjoy it.

At least Callie will be there with me.

We’re officially together now, as far as the world knows, so of course she’ll be my date tonight.

Speaking of which…

I snatch up my phone and send her a quick text to let her know I’m headed her way. Then I take one more glance in the mirror and head out of the house.

When I pull up outside of Callie’s apartment, I get out of the car and head up the walkway toward her building. I’m about to buzz her unit to let her know I’m here, but before I can, she steps out of the front door. She’s out of breath, and a few loose strands of her curly red hair frame her face, while the rest are pulled back into a simple updo.

I blink, swallowing hard as I try to remember if I’ve ever seen her this dressed up before. I must have, right? But I can’t quite think of a time, and I can’t quite keep my jaw from falling open at the sight of her in a long green dress, one that perfectly highlights her curves and the fiery hue of her hair. She’s wearing a bit more makeup than usual but hasn’t gone overboard with it, and her jade eyes, framed by long dark lashes, nearly match her dress.

“Hi,” she says, taking a deep inhale and blowing it out.

“Hey, gorgeous.” I shake off my stupor and flash her a grin. “Damn, look at you. Were you waiting at the door for me?”

“Yes,” she admits without hesitation, running her hands over the front of her dress. “I’m so nervous. For no reason. Do I look alright? I’ve never been to something like this.”

She does a small twirl, revealing a pair of strappy black heels on her feet, and I see a few more tendrils of hair resting against the back of her neck where they’ve fallen from her otherwise flawless updo. When she comes to a stop, I take her hand and pull her toward me.

“You look absolutely stunning,” I murmur. I pull on a loose strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. “You’ll fit right in.”

She smiles, looking relieved. “Okay, good. Although I won’t be able to donate millions like the rest of you.”

“You teach kids how to read, so it balances out.”

“Third graders already know how to read,” she points out.

“You teach them how to read better.”

She laughs—my favorite laugh this time, throwing her head back. I offer her my arm, and she loops hers through mine.

“You didn’t have to pick me up, you know,” she tells me. “I appreciate it, but next time I can take the bus.”

“Hell, no.” I give her a pointed look. “Even if we’re fake dating, I’m the kind of fake boyfriend who picks his girl up.”

I’m about to lead her down the sidewalk toward my car, but before we can turn away from her building, the light inside the entryway blinks out.

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