Page 20 of Let It Breathe (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #1)

“Sure!” Larissa said. “I mean, you kinda want to avoid words like ‘failure’ if you want it to be fun, but it’s all about revealing salacious things you’ve done.”

Clay shrugged. “I’m game.”

Reese bit her lip but didn’t meet Clay’s eyes. “It just seems like a bad idea. Isn’t this—what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Dumb?” Eric offered.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Reese waved a hand in Clay’s direction, flinging soap on Larissa’s shirt. “A trigger. Something that wouldn’t be good for Clay.”

Larissa rolled her eyes. “You guys, he’s been sober four years. Don’t you think he’s capable of deciding for himself what’s good for him?”

All three pairs of eyes shifted to him, and Clay stood frozen in the space between the kitchen and the living room, the space between the fun guy they remembered and the responsible guy he knew he could be.

He hesitated, not knowing what the right move was here, but knowing he wanted to prove to all of them that he could do this.

He could be fun and spontaneous and still be a responsible adult who didn’t end up ruining everyone’s evening by passing out or passing up a chance to do something enjoyable.

He folded his arms and met their gazes one by one. Larissa, Eric, Reese. “Let’s play.”

Eric shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Larissa looked at Reese, who had started ladling huckleberry cobbler into bowls. “Reese?”

She sighed. “This all seems a little awkward. Come on, Eric and I used to be married. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“No weirder than you being besties with his second wife,” Larissa pointed out.

Eric refilled his wineglass and stood up with a shrug. “Isn’t awkwardness the whole point of the game? I’m not endorsing it, just saying.”

Reese sighed, looking defeated. Larissa gave her a one-armed hug, then grabbed a bowl of cobbler and a glass of wine before flouncing into the living room.

Eric shrugged, then picked up a bowl of cobbler and followed.

Clay watched him sink into the center of a leather sofa the color of an old saddle, while Larissa curled up in a bright-orange armchair lined with flowery turquoise pillows.

Clay stared at them for a moment, his throat welling with a flood of nostalgia for his lost college years.

If only he hadn’t fucked everything up?—

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Reese murmured.

Clay turned to look at her and felt the wistful pang grip him tighter. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I’m not talking about the alcohol.” She shot a nervous glance toward the living room, then lowered her voice. “I’m just thinking about that time in college when?—”

“Come on, you guys,” Larissa yelled. “Hurry up!”

Clay looked at Reese, still wondering what the right move was. She stared at him, her expression unreadable. He turned back to the living room. “Why don’t you guys play and I’ll finish up the dishes?”

“No way,” Eric said. “I’m not going to be the only guy playing. Get your ass in here. You, too, Reese. Come on, we’ll get the dishes later.”

Clay looked at Reese. He took a step closer, making his voice low. “I promise I’m okay with this,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about it being a trigger.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed, and she took a shaky breath. “Okay. That’s fine, I mean. I just—how do you want to handle?—”

She broke off there, not finishing the question, but Clay watched her gaze flit to her wineglass on the counter. Right, the alcohol. This was a drinking game, after all.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’ll drink water. ’Riss seems drunk enough not to notice who’s drinking what anyway.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, her gaze drifting out to the living room. Part of him ached to reach out and touch her the way he had in the kitchen or at Vineyard Grill. He glanced at Eric, who frowned at him.

Right. Touching Reese would be bad.

At last, Reese nodded. “Let’s play.”

She marched past him into the living room and Clay stared after her, admiring the sway of her hips.

She chose a spot on a comfortable-looking love seat that matched the couch, and Clay watched her tuck her delicate bare feet up under her as her caramel-colored braid slipped over her shoulder.

He saw Eric watching him and quickly feigned interest in a potted fern on the edge of the counter.

“You coming, Clay?” Larissa yelled.

Not anytime soon, dammit.

Kicking his inner pig in the head, he cleared his throat and headed for the living room. “Yeah, sure.”

He chose a seat as far away from Reese as he could get, settling on the end of the sofa near Eric while he ordered himself to grow the fuck up and stop ogling Reese.

He could do this. He could renew friendships and revisit old memories and go home with no regrets.

This was the way normal people functioned, right?

Across from him, Larissa began to explain the rules, though Clay suspected he was the only one who required a refresher.

“Okay, so someone starts and they have to make a statement that starts I never . It has to be true, and it’s always best if it’s a little bit dirty.

Like I could say, I never had sex on an airplane , and anyone in the room who’s done that would have to drink. ”

Clay shifted his water glass in one hand. “So how do we know who wins?”

“There’s no winner or loser,” Larissa explained with exaggerated patience. “It’s just about learning people’s deepest, darkest secrets. The more you drink, the less inhibited you become, the more you cough up the dirt.”

Eric nodded at Clay’s glass. “Probably good the guy with the most dirt is drinking water.”

“Come on,” Larissa said. “Let’s just play.”

Reese sighed and settled back onto her love seat with a glass of wine beside her on an end table. Clay watched, wondering what she was thinking. This was awkward for all of them, but probably more for Reese, who tended to be a private person. Maybe he still had time to put a stop to it. Maybe?—

“Why don’t you start, ’Riss?” Reese suggested. “Show us how it’s done.”

“Okay, fine—I never had sex with two people at once,” Larissa declared.

“Oh, come on,” Reese said. “That hardly seems—” She stopped and stared at Clay as he took a slow sip of water.

Everyone’s attention swung to him, and Clay froze mid-sip, pretty sure he’d just started things off on the wrong foot. He set his glass down and frowned at Eric. “What?”

“Stud!” Eric slapped him on the shoulder.

Larissa laughed. “There’s a story I’d love to hear.”

Clay grimaced, feeling like an idiot just thirty seconds into the game. Everyone sat staring at him, which was the last thing he wanted. He felt awkward in his own skin, and remembered how easy it used to be to grab a beer at a party to make that feeling go away.

“I thought that’s how the game worked,” he said, wondering if it was okay to take another sip of water. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “That’s how we’re supposed to play, right?”

“Right,” Larissa said. “And no one is allowed to judge, so quit looking at him like that, Reese.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

Clay scuffed his toe across the rug. “Alcohol may have been a factor.”

Reese bit her lip. “It often is.”

“You’re up, Reese,” Eric said. “We go in a circle, right?”

“Right,” Larissa agreed. “Come on, Reese—lay it on us.”

“Oh, fine.” She grabbed her own wineglass, not meeting Clay’s eyes. “I never had sex in the winery barn.”

Eric and Larissa both lifted their glasses and drank. Reese snorted. “Larissa doesn’t surprise me, but Eric? I wouldn’t think Sheila would agree to that.”

“Wasn’t Sheila,” he said. “This was after you, before Sheila. Remember that intern six years ago? The one with the big?—”

“Okay, moving on,” Reese said. “Eric, you go.”

He shrugged. “I never had anyone spank me in the bedroom.”

Larissa and Reese both lifted their glasses. Larissa giggled. Clay felt lightheaded.

“Reese—kinky!” Larissa said.

“You said no judging,” Reese said, and Clay watched her cheeks flush crimson. “But if you must know, it was that horse trainer I dated three years ago. He thought a whip would be a nice thing to bring on a third date.”

Eric laughed. “You sure can pick ’em.”

“Hey, I’m proud of you, cuz,” Larissa said, giving Reese a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be so experimental.”

“I didn’t say I liked it,” Reese said, her cheeks still beautifully pink. She looked at the ceiling and gave a funny little smile. “Then again, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Larissa laughed and turned back to Clay. “Okay, hot stuff, your turn.”

Clay gripped his water glass, not sure what to say. Hell, there was plenty he could say. Plenty he remembered, plenty he didn’t, plenty he wished he could forget. He opened his mouth to say something. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

The sound of the doorbell dragged everyone’s eyes off him and onto the door.

Reese frowned. “What the?—”

“Uh-oh,” said Larissa. “I know who it is.”

Before anyone could ask, a voice outside started shouting. “Goddammit, Larissa—I know you’re there. Open the door!”