Page 236 of Break Away
“But yes.” My mouth trembled before it curved. “I’m happy.”
Bliss made a tiny sound and hugged me hard enough to knock my hip into the sink.
“Ow.”
“Sorry. Joyful impact.”
Charm grabbed her sunglasses. “We should go back before the men attempt unsupervised emotional discussion.”
I opened the door. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It is,” Bliss said. “Briggs is there.”
We returned to the table to find Briggs demonstrating something with two forks and a syrup bottle while Easton watched with the grave patience of a man reconsidering friendship.
Ryan saw Charm first.
Not obviously. Not dramatically. His eyes moved to her, checked her face, then dropped to the sunglasses in her hand before returning to his coffee like he hadn’t just given himself away in three seconds flat.
Charm slid into the booth without looking at him, but Ryan leaned toward her and murmured something too low for the table.
She flushed.
Bliss kicked me under the table.
I kicked her back.
Easton’s hand found my thigh again when I sat beside him. “Bathroom summit go well?”
“Minutes are confidential.”
“I have clearance.”
“You have probationary access.”
He leaned closer. “What do I need for full access?”
I looked at his mouth, then back at his eyes. “Survive breakfast.”
His smile went slow and private. “I can do that.”
Across the table, Briggs pointed a fork at us. “See? Eyes again.”
“Eat your waffle,” Rider said.
“I am surrounded by romance and repression,” Briggs announced. “This is why goalies are important. We absorb emotional impact.”
Cade looked at him. “You cried at a dog food commercial last week.”
“It had narrative structure.”
Ryan laughed, Charm smiled into her coffee, Bliss kissed Cade’s shoulder, and Rider shook his head with that quiet almost-smile that made him look like he was pretending not to love everyone at the table. Easton’s thumb moved over my leg beneath the table, steady and quiet and real.
For once, the noise around us didn’t feel like something I had to survive. It felt like something I got to keep.
Ryan lifted his coffee again, his gaze moving over all of us like he was trying not to make the moment too serious and failing by a little. “So, Friday after Thanksgiving?”
Briggs raised his fork. “Flint Frost rivalry weekend.”
