What?I turn around so fast I almost lose my balance, but I’m not sure I heard her right. Why is she apologizing?
“This isn’t fair,” she continues. “I said it, you know. It’s out there, and that’s absolutely terrifying. But it’s not fair of me to hold the fact that you didn’t say it back against you. I didn’t say it because I wanted to hear you say it back.” She releases a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would’ve been nice if you saidsomething, but if you’re not there, then I have to respect that.”
“Can I say something? With no interruptions?” I wonder, and she gives me a small nod. I take a few steps forward before kneeling down in front of her.
“Since we’ve started letting down our walls, I’ve shared things with you I haven’t felt comfortable sharing with anyone else. When I’m with you, I feel alive. Like I’m actually breathing for myself and not just for hockey. Because when I’m with you, I’m Declan. Just Declan. I’m not a jersey number. I’m not a future NHL player. I’m not a team captain… I’m just me.
“You don’t tell me what I want to hear. You don’t put up with my shit. You don’t worship the ground I walk on. You tell me how it is, even if it’s brutally honest. You treat me like I’m human. If I’m honest, that scares the hell out of me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She pulls her legs up to her chest, and I fight a laugh.
“You didn’t. You don’t. That’s what I’m trying to say. I mean this,” I point between the two of us, “intimidates the hell out of me because I’m so used to getting by on my own. I’ve never had to think about exposing the pieces of myself that sometimes I don’t even want to remember exist…. I’ve shied away from relationships for so long because it’s easier to disappoint myself than to disappoint someone I care about. If I don’t let people in, they can’t see the bad, and they can’t hurt me. And I can’t disappoint them.”
“You think I’m going to hurt you?”
The ache in her voice does hurt me. But I shake my head because what I’m saying has nothing to do with her. Not in that way. It’s the reason why I freaked out. It’s the reason I got all in my head.
“No,” I argue. “Would you please let me finish? You said you would let me talk, but you keep interrupting me, and I feel like wires are getting crossed and—”
“Okay, sorry.”
“I’m afraid of hurting you.” I grab her hand, forcing her index finger to stop digging into her thumb, something I don’t even know if she realizes that she does when she’s anxious. “Growing up, I idolized my father. He was everything I wanted to be. I worshipped the ground he walked on, and doing that made me lose sight of who he really was.”
I swallow hard, trying to figure out how to continue.
“And because I idolized him, I looked at his relationship with my mom and thought it was everything I should look for,” I continue. “I wanted a love like theirs. I thought their love was ideal, but here we are several years later, and I realize what he felt toward her was never love. It was power. He carried power in that relationship that made him feel like he could do anything he wanted.”
I feel like this realization should’ve hit me sooner… He only wants to have a relationship with someone if he holds power over them. He doesn’t care about love. He never did.
“And when you told me you loved me, it started getting real and real is scary. The relationship I looked up to my whole childhood fell apart. How am I supposed to know what love really is when I grew up with this warped idea?”
“Dec—” She cuts herself off.
“I grew up wanting to be just like him,” I whisper. “What if he’s exactly who I grow up to be?”
“You’re nothing like him.” Before I know it, she’s on the floor beside me, pulling my face into her hands. “I’ve seen the way he acts, Declan. I’ve heard the things he’s done. You’re nothing like him.”
“Maybe not now, but—”
“But nothing.” She shifts closer to me. “Just because your parent's love wasn’t real, doesn’t mean you don’t know what love feels like. It doesn’t mean you don’t know how to love. Declan, I’ve seen you love.”
Her thumbs brush along my cheekbones, and that’s when I realize I’m crying. Not a full-blown stream, but enough for tears to be rolling down my cheeks.
“Did you mean it?” My gaze meets hers, nervous yet soft. “When you told me you loved me, did you mean it?”
“I did.” There’s not a second of hesitation. “And I’d say it again. Even if I knew you wouldn’t say it back, I’d say it over and over again. Until you know it’s possible for you to make someone this happy. Until you feel that you’re worthy of being loved.”
“And if I stopped playing hockey. If I didn’t play in the NHL, would you still feel this way?”
“Regardless of what you think, Declan, or what you’ve been told, hockey isn’t what makes you amazing. I’d love you even if you worked at McDonald’s.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
My forehead falls against hers, but her hands never leave my cheeks.
