Chapter One
DECLAN
My head is killing me.
I wake up on the bus with my face pressed against the cold window, my neck at an angle that's going to leave me sore for days. The overhead lights are too bright. The engine noise is too loud. Everything is too much.
I squint at my watch. It is nine in the morning. We've been driving for two hours.
Ashton is sprawled in the seat across the aisle, headphones in, eyes closed. Most of the team are sleeping off last night's celebrations. We won. We celebrated. Hard.
Too hard, apparently, because I can barely remember getting on this bus.
I found my phone under my bed this morning. It had been deader than dead. I reach for it, sitting in the holder and charging. I turn it on, rubbing my eyes and yawning.
And then I see the many texts, and the voicemail icon is on.
I check the texts first.
Most of them are from Sutton.
I scroll through the messages with dread pooling low in my belly. Each one becomes progressively more upset, angry, and hurt. She’s pissed. I try to remember the last time we talked. What did I say?
And what photo? What is she talking about?
I try calling her. It goes straight to voicemail.
I try again—same thing.
"Shit," I mutter, loud enough that Pierce looks over from the seat in front of me.
"You okay, man?"
"No." I keep staring at my phone like it might give me answers. "Sutton's pissed. Something about a photo."
"Oh." Pierce winces. "Yeah. About that."
"About what?"
He pulls out his phone and shows me the screen.
It's me. In a hotel hallway. My arm around Bree's waist. She's wearing my hoodie. We're standing outside a hotel room door.
The photo looks damning as hell.
"What the hell?" I stare at the image. "When was this taken?"
"Last night. It's all over social media. Everyone's talking about it." Pierce lowers his voice. "Declan, what were you doing with Bree?"
"I don't know." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember through the fog of alcohol. "I ran into her in the hallway. She was crying. Said Holden told her to leave him alone after the fight."
The fight.
It comes back to me in flashes. Holden is shoving me on the ice. I am shoving back. Both of us dropped our gloves while our teammates tried to pull us apart.
"Why did you fight with Holden?" Pierce asks. “He’s still pissed at you, by the way.”
"He accused me of leading Bree on. Said I was giving her mixed signals. Confiding in her about my relationshipproblems." I run my hand through my hair. "Which is complete bullshit."
