I swallow. Declan’s head doesn’t move, but I feel his silence shift, focusing on my answer.
“I’ll try to make it.”
Declan lets out a slow, silent breath.
Then, a vibration buzzes against his thigh. Silent. Violent. The skin over his knuckles stands out as his fist tightens around the coffee cup.
He doesn’t look at the screen. It’s his leash—the thing he’s trying to hide.
Dad is talking about the penalty kill, blind to the silent war erupting inches from his elbow.
The phone buzzes again. Persistent. Demanding.
I glance at his pocket. Who calls him like that? Who does he ignore with that kind of tension in his jaw?
Declan’s thumb digs into the power button, pressing it hard until the screen blacks out. The decision is quiet, ruthless, and terrifying.
Dad checks the clock on the wall and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “All right. I’m done. My eyes are crossing.” He stands up, grabbing his keys. “Declan, head to the showers. Get out of here. Talia, walk me out?”
“Sure.”
I stand, grabbing my peppermint tea from the desk. Declan rises with me, moving with a fluid, predatory grace that sucks the air from the room.
“Night, Coach,” Declan says.
“Night, Reid. Lock the door behind you.”
Dad walks out first, already checking his phone, his mind shifting to the drive home. He turns left toward the exit.
I follow him into the hallway.
Declan follows me.
Dad is five paces ahead, boots echoing on the concrete. He thinks Declan is turning right, toward the locker room. He assumes the order was followed.
Declan doesn’t turn right.
As soon as Dad rounds the corner toward the lobby, a hand clamps onto my upper arm. Gentle, but firm. Declan pulls me into the blind spot of the hallway wall, just outside the pool of light from the office door.
He kicks the office door shut with his boot.Click.
Then he leans back against the frame, closing his eyes for a split second.
“There’s going to be hell to pay for this,” he mutters, low and rough.
I frown, watching him. “For what?”
His eyes snap open, locking onto mine. “For being here. For testing the leash.”
He pushes off the doorframe. He lifts the peppermint tea cup from my hand, setting it silently on the floor by the wall.
Then, he cages me.
Bare arms slam against the cinderblock on either side of my head. He leans in until his chest is inches from mine, blocking out the hallway light. The faint scent of soap is scalding.
“You should know who you’re inviting into your orbit, Addison,” he rasps, voice a low, dangerous vibration. “I’m on a short leash. And you know who’s holding it.”
“I know,” I whisper, tilting my chin up. “But you just deleted a phone call, didn't you?”
