Page 124 of Breakaway Hearts
“Cutting it close, Sutton!” Dunaway shouts from the bench as I skate past him with a smile and a wave. A few of the guys chuckle, and Noah skates up to me, bumping me on the shoulder as he does.
“You look like you’re half-awake. Long night last night?” He skates around me before stretching out his hamstrings.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, man.” I mimic his stretches. He gives me a grin and a raised eyebrow, clearly wanting more, but we don’t have time to get into it right now.
I didn’t realize how visibly tired I look, though. I barely glanced in the mirror this morning. All I could look at was Callie. How beautiful she looked beneath me, on top of me, around me, and all I could think about was how perfectly we fit together, physically and emotionally.
Add all of that up with barely sleeping last night because of our several rounds of incredible sex, and I probably look like a hot mess.
That doesn’t stop me from skating my ass off though. I’m riding on pure adrenaline, on the high last night and this morning gave me, and I’m positive that it shows in my performance on the ice.
The team is moving like a well-oiled machine. We flow together, barely needing to shout commands at each other because it’s like we know instinctively what everyone else is going to do.
It feels like one of the best practices I’ve ever had with the Aces. One of the best practices I’ve ever had, period. And when I look over at the mildly surprised but overall pleased look on Dunaway’s face, I know he’s thinking the same thing. It’s not that we’re usually sluggish after game day, but it’s typical for us to be a bit slow to get going.
When he releases us after going over our strategy for our next game, I shower and change quickly, then throw a few quick goodbyes out to the guys.
But as I’m striding down the corridor toward the staff parking lot, a voice stops me.
“Reese?”
I glance over to see Sienna leaning against the wall, a binder in her arm. She looks like she’s been standing there a while, maybe for as long as we’ve been off the ice, and she pushes herself off the wall with a smile on her face.
“Hey,” she says. “Do you have a few minutes?”
I frown, because I genuinely don’t feel like talking to Sienna right now. But if it’s work-related, I don’t really have a choice.
“Sure.” I nod shortly. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know that we reached a settlement with Mr. Cardona.”
I blink, confused for a second before it registers that Cardona is Austin’s last name. I guess the fucker really did threaten to sue.
“That’s great,” I tell her.
“It is.” She flashes me another bright smile. “Do you have a minute? I told Miles that I’d go over the terms of the settlement with you quickly, just to keep you in the loop.”
“Uh, sure.” I nod. Miles Firth is the head of the legal department, and he’s great at his job—which hopefully means that Callie’s slimy ex didn’t manage to wrangle much out of the settlement.
I follow Sienna upstairs to the admin offices, and she leads me into an empty conference room. I pull out a chair at the large table, and she sits next to me, setting the binder down.
“Now, he’s agreed not to hold you or the Aces liable for…”
Sienna starts filling me in on the details of the settlement, and I nod, only half listening. As long as none of this blows back on Callie, that’s all I care about. And even though I should probably be making promises to avoid fights from here on out, if he ever goes near her again, I’ll put my fist through his face regardless of the consequences.
A sudden warmth on the back of my hand jolts me out of my thoughts, and I look down to see Sienna’s hand resting over mine.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You look like you’re lost in your thoughts. You still with me?”
“Yeah.” I slide my hand out from beneath hers quickly.
She smiles as if she knows exactly what I’ve been thinking about, although I don’t see how she could. Then her smile slips away, her gaze dropping to my lips.
“Reese…” she breathes.
She leans in, and I jerk my head backward and jump to my feet.
“Whoa.” I step back, holding up a hand. “What the hell are you doing?”