“I was wrong,” I respond, and he glances up at me, a wave of confusion rushing over his face. “He doesn’t sound like an ass; he is an ass.”
He fights the smile pulling at his lips.
“But he’s the reason I have something in my life that matters.”
“Does it really matter if playing it hurts you?”
“Any of us could get hurt. We knew that when we decided to play—”
“I don’t mean physically. I mean, your dad—”
“I love hockey,” he interrupts, looking down at his hands. “It’s the only thing I’ve gotten right in my life.”
“Brinley would disagree.”
He finally lets his smile free, not even attempting to hold it back. But he says nothing else. He does nothing else. His eyes remain on his hands.
“I’m his chance to have the Sanderson name in the NHL,” he whispers.
“Declan.” He doesn’t look at me. “Declan.”
His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I really see them. The sheer look of pain is masked by captivating brown eyes. They’re mesmerizing, and the tiny specks of orange are still there but not burning like before.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” he pauses, “especially not the guys. We’ve all worked so hard and—”
“You don’t have to go pro for them to go pro,” I respond. “So, without thinking about other people, what do you want?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, taking a deep breath. “I always thought I wanted to go pro, but the thought of him getting what he wants in the process I—”
He breaks eye contact, shaking his head, as he runs a hand through his hair. He rests his head against the wall behind my bed.
“I love hockey, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to love it for me, you know? It’ll never be just mine.”
Without thinking, I do something I never thought I would. I move close to him, one of my hands dropping onto his leg, right above his knee, and I realize just how close I am to another part of his body. And he notices it, too, because his head shoots up in my direction. It takes everything in me to find the words that were right there just moments ago.
“He may have given you hockey, but you don’t owe him anything.” I smile, the proximity between us making my heart race, but this isn’t about me. It’s about Declan. “Whether you play in the NHL or own a small non-profit business to help other kids achieve their dreams. That’s up toyou.”
His hand finds mine and gives it a squeeze. I hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps making their way up my arms, but if he does, he doesn’t care. He licks his lips, and my eyes flicker to them, just for a second, before meeting his again.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Anytime.” I shrug, waiting for his hand to leave mine. It doesn’t. His hand stays put. Our eyes remain locked.
My stomach flutters and I feel a weird sensation traveling through my body, and it’s a rare feeling. But one that confirms my biggest fear. One that confirms I’m breaking my own promises.
I’m falling for Declan Sanderson.
Hard.
eleven
Declan
October
Iemailed her. Like, what kind of loser emails someone? Sure, it wasn’t the first time I sent her an email, but this one had nothing to do with our project and everything to do with the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. So much so that even playing hockey wasn’t enough to get her off my mind, and I had to resort to other measures. While in the shower… twice. Before and after training.
