Prologue
DECLAN
I'm the kind of idiot who gets a second chance and manages to screw it up worse than the first time.
Senior year was supposed to be simple. Play hockey. Graduate. Figure out my future. Instead, black mold condemned Sutton's housing, and the universe decided to give me what I've wanted for two years—her, back in my life.
She thought I cheated and cut me out of her life. She didn't wait for an explanation or give me a chance to explain.
Living together pushes us into the same space, and the tension is overwhelming. Not the bad kind—the kind that makes my skin flare up every time she's close.
For about five seconds, I think we've got this figured out. Then my ex, Bree, starts her games, stirring up drama everywhere. We fight. We're a disaster.
Until a midnight kitchen encounter where she tells me she's moving out. I ask her to stay so we have a real chance. She says yes.
She tells me she loves me. I tell her I've loved her every day for the past two years. We're finally on the same page, building something real.
Except I'm keeping a secret that's going to blow it all up.
My dad has been orchestrating my future behind the scenes.
I should tell her. We promised to be honest with each other, with no more secrets. But every time I try, the words get caught in my throat. Because if I tell her about Seattle, she'll think I'm choosing hockey over her.
The game is incredible. I play like I'm possessed, thinking that if I'm good enough on the ice, somehow everything else will fall into place. We win. My dad is ecstatic, already talking about contracts.
And Sutton is nowhere to be found.
I text her to ask where she is. She doesn't respond.
I should go to her.
But one drink won’t hurt—right?
Chapter One
DECLAN
The bar is packed, music thumping, and everyone shouting congratulations. Someone shoves another beer into my hand. I don't even remember finishing the last one.
I shouldn’t be drinking. Coach would have our asses if he knew we were partying this hard.
But what did he expect—we kicked ass. Our first game of the season, and we killed it. We were all riding the high.
"Speech! Speech!" Crew yells, and suddenly everyone's chanting my name.
I climb onto a chair because apparently that's what you do when you're a little buzzed and riding the high of the best game you've ever played.
"To the best damn team in the country!" I raise my beer, and the place erupts.
The scout found me after the game. Lee Morrison is the Pacific Northwest's head talent evaluator. He shook my hand with a grip that could crush bones and said five words that changed everything: "We need to talk soon."
Not "maybe." Not "we'll see."
We need to talk.
That's as close to an offer as you get before it's official.
I should be ecstatic. This is everything I've worked for my entire life. Everything Dad's pushed me toward since I could walk.
