My phone stays silent.
One minute passes. Then five. Then ten.
King doesn't respond.
The silence feels ominous, heavy with implications I don't want to examine.
What if he hates me? What if I've destroyed something precious by being selfish enough to want two men at once?
18
DECLAN
First Time
Ivy's message to King sits on my phone like a ticking bomb.
Ivy:
I need to talk to you in person. There's someone else in my life now, and I owe you an honest conversation before this goes any further. Can we meet?
Sitting on the team bus heading to Boston, I stare at it for the hundredth time, my chest tightening with hope. It's been nearly two months since we started our practice date, and she wants to end things with King because of me, Declan.
I should be relieved. This way, she might never find out about my deception. But it's best to confess that I'm King. That’s she's been falling for me all along.
Because Ivy means more to me than any woman ever has. I’ve grown to anticipate her smile. To like the way her lips pout slightly when she’s not backing down. To feel relaxed in her presence.
And I want to make her happy. I want her to fulfill her dreams, to understand that we’re together for real.
Heck, I’m falling for her. Every damned bit of her. And I want to keep falling until both of us are completely besotted with each other.
I need a clear head for the game tomorrow. I’ll tell her after the game.
Boston's skyline appears through the bus windows as we pull into the city. The hotel is one of those upscale places with marble lobbies and staff who greet everyone by name. The team starts dispersing to their rooms, and I linger near the check-in desk until I catch the concierge's attention.
"I need a favor," I say quietly, sliding him two hundred-dollar bills. "Can you make sure Dr. Chandler, the woman traveling with our team, gets the room adjacent to mine?"
His eyes flick to the bill, then to me. He smiles a little.
"Of course, Mr. Hawthorne. Consider it done."
Twenty minutes later, I'm unpacking when I hear movement in the room next door. A soft thud. The sound of a suitcase being set down. Ivy's voice thanking someone, probably the bellhop.
My heart kicks into overdrive.
I pull out my phone and text her.
Declan:
What's your room number?
Ivy:
4127. Why?
Declan:
Look through your peephole.
