“Deck, you wanna take Abbott down to the docks to talk to Dad?”
“I know my way,” I say casually but Declan glares at me anyway.
“Declan can escort you,” Lucy insists. “And then he’ll get to hear Charlie approve of the idea whole-heartedly and see his worries are not shared.”
“Let’s go,” Declan grumbles and brushes past me to the door. I bite back a sigh and follow him outside.
He doesn’t say anything as he marches around the side of the building, so I do.
“You’re mad?”
“Nope.”
“Well, if this isn’t mad, what do you call it?”
“Nothing, Abbott,” Declan says, his words clipped. “I’m just being me.”
“What part about this bothers you?” I have to ask as we make it to the start of the long dock. “The crowds of people that will flood your restaurant and spend money? The publicity bigger and better than you could ever pay for? Or just the simple fact that you’ll have to spend time with me?”
“I don’t have to spend time with you,” Declan replies, his voice even and unaffected. “I intend to take the day off if and when you do this.”
“Seriously?” I raise my voice in shock. The wind is blowing heavily, which I didn’t realize when I was driving over. It’s picked up since I was surfing earlier this morning and now it’s whipping around us, pulling on my shirt and ruffling his hair. “Declan, you’ve wanted to touch the Stanley Cup for as long as I have.”
“Yeah well…”
Oh my God, he’s making me angry. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not even sure why I’m so annoyed to be honest. Maybe because I feel like he’s trying to punish me. “What did I do to you?”
He stops so abruptly that I slam into his back because I was a couple paces behind him. I’m tall - only an inch and a half under Declan’s height, but he’s got longer legs and I’ve got a longer torso, so his strides are the length of an Olympic ice rink when he’s rushing. My chest bumps into his strong, lean back and I grab his shoulders for a second to steady myself as I step back. The contact is like sticking my tongue in a light socket. Electric and painful. Because he smells so good, like coconut sunblock and hard-earned sweat, and he’s warm and familiar in ways that make me ache.
He spins, and my hands lose purchase on his skin. “Not everyone has to be best friends forever, Abbott. Look at Aspen and Terra. They didn’t talk for years.”
“But they’re on their way back to inseparable now,” I argue back, and he frowns so hard it creates creases I’ve never seen before around his wide mouth. “And Aspen did something wrong. She dated Terra’s one true love.”
That breaks the frown and it’s replaced with a sarcastic smile and chuff. “One true love? Are you reading Nova’s romance novels or something?”
The mention of his ex-wife ups my anger factor, which I also don’t understand because I like her. Nova is one of the finest people I’ve ever met. She’s kind, friendly, a goddamn ray of sunshine. “Yeah. I’m in a fucking book club with your ex. Our next novel isA Walk to Remember.”
“That’s not a romance.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I bark back and shove a frustrated hand into my hair. “Why the hell are you so angry with me? Just say it!”
“I’m not angry at you. I am trying not to feel anything about you at all,” Declan confesses in a rush of words that feel like a million little pinpricks to my soul. “So stop buying me cotton candy and reminding me of fireworks. And if you just wanna include this place in your day with the Cup because you think it’ll impress me or woo me or something, don’t. It won’t. It can’t.”
He folds his arms across his wide chest and then immediately unfolds them and shoves his hands in his pockets. I just stare at him, trying not to feel the emotional bruises that verbal assault has left. He’s not trying to be mean. I know Declan well enough to understand that, deep down. Declan is a tear-off-the-Band-Aid guy. He’s honest to a fault and his delivery is bull-in-a-china-shop at best. I kind of admire him for it because, as a professional athlete, I’m always saying what people want to hear, not necessarily the truth. But it still hurts like a bitch.
“I don’t just want to include you… your family and this place in my day because of what we have.” His eyebrows raise. “Had. I mean, you were an important part of the path that got me to this day though.”
“I didn’t do a single thing for your career, Abbott,” Declan argues. “You’re the one who worked for it. Your skills and abilities have zero to do with me.”
He turns away from me as abruptly as he stopped. And he manages two steps before I stop him with my words. “You lit up my whole fucking world when it was dark as fuck thanks to my parents, and I wasn’t able to return the favor. So yeah, I owe you. I owe everything to you.”
He blinks. His jaw flexes and his neck muscles strain like he’s physically fighting to keep from saying something. I take a small step closer to him. “Declan, please I—"
“Hey!” Charlie Hawkins’ cheerful baritone is like a sonic boom detonating the tension between us. I turn to see him lumbering up the dock, his arms open to greet me.
I walk toward him and accept his hard slap on the back type bro-hug. “I know I saw you briefly at the Founder’s Day event, but I didn’t get to give you a proper congratulations. Man, I’m so proud of you, son!”
“Thanks, Mr. Hawkins.” I grin and enjoy the attention from him. But then I glance over my shoulder and notice Declan’s all the way down at the end of the dock now, climbing onto the boat to finish the clean-up Charlie abandoned when he saw me.
