Page 127 of Breakaway Hearts

“Were you?” I say stiffly, my hackles rising a bit. “A lot of people told us the opposite.”

She lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, then hesitates, like she’s debating whether to say something or not. After a moment, she turns to face me more fully, her expression serious.

“I was just surprised because when we were together, I asked him if he’d ever had feelings for you, and he said he never had. So I didn’t really think you were his type. I believe his exact words were ‘of course I don’t want her. Why would I, when I’ve got someone like you?’”

My stomach twists, and I blink at her for a second as her words wash over me. Why the fuck is she telling me this?

I grab one last mozzarella stick and then down the last sip of my whiskey. “I think I’ll head over to the arena. I like to get there early.”

As I stand to go, Sienna stops me with a hand on my arm. Her manicured fingers give a little squeeze as she looks at me with a concerned expression.

“I hope I didn’t overstep by telling you that,” she says. “I just wanted you to know that he doesn’t—ordidn’t—see you that way. I just worry that he’s using you to get back at me, you know? It doesn’t seem fair, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thanks, but I can look out for myself,” I tell her coolly, my skin prickling under her touch.

I pull away and head toward the door, not giving her the satisfaction of looking back over my shoulder. The chilly Denver air hits my heated face like an arctic blast, but I welcome it, tipping my head back toward the sky and trying to tame my wild emotions.

She’s just fucking with you, Callie. Trying to get in your head.

I do my best to shake it off, reminding myself that Reese chose me, and that whatever he told her back then doesn’t matter. My stomach is unsettled, the mozzarella sticks and whiskey mixing badly with the anxiety that’s taken up residence in my gut, but it eases a little as I enter the arena.

I wasn’t really a hockey fan growing up, but I’ve been a true follower of the sport ever since I met Reese, cheering him on and supporting his career all the way to the NHL. The sights and sounds of a hockey arena are so familiar by now that they’re comforting, in a way.

I breathe in deeply as I make my way to my seat, and when Reese and the rest of his teammates take the ice to warm up, I’m able to give him a genuine smile when his gaze automatically finds me in the stands.

By the time the national anthem plays and the game finally starts, I’ve forgotten all about my conversation with Sienna.

Chapter44

Callie

The next morning, the sound of my phone buzzing jerks me out of my half-conscious state, and I grope for it at the same time Reese’s phone goes off on his nightstand. He answers at the same time I do.

“Hello,” I say groggily without looking at the caller ID.

“Callie?” my mom blurts through the phone. I sit up and rub my eyes. “Callie, are you okay?”

“Huh?” At the agitated sound of her voice, a bolt of adrenaline shoots through me, and I’m wide awake. “What’s wrong, Mom? Areyouokay? What happened?”

“Sweetheart,” she says breathlessly. “A friend just sent me an article about you and Reese from some tabloid.”

I groan and relax back into the bed. “Those are all trash, Mom.”

“I know, I know, but I just… I don’t know. It says your relationship with Reese is fake. That you two are pretending to date for some reason, and that it’s all a lie. That isn’t true, right? I just want to make sure you’re okay. Are you alright? Are both of you alright?”

Reese gets out of bed, and I can hear him speaking in a low voice on the phone. I can barely make out what he’s saying over the pounding of my heart, though.

What. The. Fuck?

“What?” I gasp. “What…what magazine was that? What did the article say?”

“Don’t tell me it’s true.” My mother sounds shocked and almost crushed. “It’s really a fake relationship?”

“No, it’s not. It’s—it’s complicated, Mom. Can you please send me that article? Please?” My words come out in a jumbled rush, and I stare at the bedspread as I clutch the phone to my ear.

“Okay.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I’ll send it to you. But, Callie, it says some really awful things—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I assure her, even though it’s most definitelynotokay. “I’ll be fine. Just send it. I’ll call you later.”