Chapter Fifty-Two
Declan
By the time I pull up outside my parents’ house, I’m a fucking mess, and I hate how he’s the reason why.
I shouldn’t have looked at him, listened to his voice and allowed it to wrap around my ribs like wire, shouldn’t have let the past dig its claws into me again. I should’ve just walked out of my own damn bar and come here instead.
But I didn’t.
And now, everything is shaking loose inside my chest—anger, confusion, that old pang I thought I’d pushed so deep it’d never resurface.
The second I park, a blur of pink launches off the porch.
“LET’S GOOOOOOO!” Grace shrieks, barreling toward the truck at full speed, boots kicking up dried leaves, hair flying like she’s powered by rocket fuel.
The storm inside me stalls just a fraction, all thoughts slamming into a wall. Leave it to my sister to be the only person who could do that.
“Gracie, your jacket!”
Mom’s voice floats from the doorway, half-exasperated, half-laughing.
She’s holding the coat in her hands, shaking her head like she already knows it’s a lost cause.
Grace doesn’t even slow down. She slides across the grass, yanks open the passenger door, and climbs in like she’s breaking into a getaway car.
“You’re late,” she states, raising her eyebrows in a look only an eight-going-on-eighteen-year-old could pull off. Her braid’s falling out, glitter nail’s polish chipped to hell, and one of her shoelaces are undone.
My heartbeat eases as an easy laugh slips out. “Sorry, kiddo. Guess I’ll get your coat, huh?”
Stepping out of the truck, I close the door behind me and trudge up to the porch. Mom waits at the top of the steps, a big pink jacket draped over her arm, eyes already narrowing as she scans my face.
“What happened?”
I sigh, taking the steps two at a time, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetheart.” She kisses my cheek, fingers lingering on my arm. And then, because she’s my mother, she repeats, “Now. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Bullshit. You only look like that when something’s up. So, try again.”
Huffing a laugh, I tug off my hat and run a hand through my hair. “Damn, Mom. You used to let me get away with that.”
“You used to be a better liar.” She smirks, arms crossing. “Tell me.”
I want to. I really, really do. But how the hell do I explain any of this?
How do I explain that I spent years convincing myself that I was over him, only to fall straight back into his orbit the second I saw his face?
That after years of trying to ignore how much I missed him, pretending the ache had faded, I’m learning it hadn’t at all.
It had just been waiting. And now I’m agonizing over what to do when the one person I swore I’d stopped loving walked back into my life without warning.
“Sweetheart?”
Resigned, I inhale, bracing to tell her, when a loud, obnoxious honk blasts from behind me. I spin around to find Grace halfway across the driver’s seat, laughing as she slams her hand on the horn again. “C’mooooon, Declan!”
“Saved by the feral gremlin.” Mom chuckles, pressing her coat into my hands. “But don’t think for a second this is over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I deadpan with a shake of my head, then make my way back to the truck. Grace is grinning wildly, eyes sparkling, full of that unshakable, invincible kid energy. I hook an arm around her waist and drag her across the bench like a sack of flour.
“Back seat, menace.”
She cackles, kicking her boots against the passenger chair in front of her. “Mom says we can go for ice cream.”
“Is that so?” I quirk an eyebrow, getting behind the wheel and looking at her in the rearview mirror before pulling out into the street. “And what happened to needing help with your slapshot?”
Shaking her head dramatically, her braid whips from side to side. “Daddy helped.”
“Of course he did.”
She talks for the entire drive, voice bouncing around the cab, loud enough to push back the thoughts of Cooper sitting in one of my booths like no time has passed.
This isn’t permanent. It’s just a fleeting visit.
He’s never set foot in Taunton Falls in years, I’m sure he’ll be gone soon.
A few days, a week tops. He’ll scratch whatever itch brought him home, and then he’ll go back to the life he chose.
“Earth to Declan.”
I blink. “Sorry, kiddo. What was that?”
“Can I get two scoops today?” She bats her eyelashes at me, her grin too wide to be innocent.
The parking lot is mostly empty when we pull in, and Grace launches herself out before I’ve even shut off the engine.
She presses her face to the glass of the display case, reading out every flavor like it’s a life-or-death decision.
If only all choices were that easy, choosing between strawberry or bubblegum.
“I want salted caramel and peanut butter.”
I stare at her, face pinched. “Dude, that’s actually disgusting.”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
“One chocolate,” I tell the guy behind the counter.
Grace gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “Dude, that’s boring.”
I tug on her braid. “Just for that? No sprinkles for you.”
Her eyes go wide with betrayal, and the server grins, dumping extra on hers before handing it over. Grace squeals in victory, rushing over to an empty table while I pay, unable to contain her joy.
“You’re coming to my game next weekend, right?” she asks, mouth covered with ice cream by the time I join her.
She has no idea what that does to me—that she asks every time, like it’s not a given I’ll show up—her eyes blinking up at me in earnest. Hockey used to be everything to me, and now I get to watch her fall in love with it the way I did.
“You sure you want your big brother embarrassing you?”
“Coach says you were one of the best he ever played with,” she says proudly, licking caramel sauce off her wrist. “He says if I keep practicing, I could be better than you.”
“Oh, really?” I laugh, popping the last of my cone into my mouth with a crunch. “In that case, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“If I score, will you take me for pizza after?” she hedges, biting her bottom lip, eyes full of intent.
Such a hustler, my sister.
“We’ll ask Mom.”
“She already said yes.”
Narrowing my eyes, I ball up the used napkin and toss it at her. “Fine. Score a goal, and I’ll get you pizza.”
With a look of success, she launches into a full play-by-play of her last practice. I lean back in my seat, crossing my ankles under the table, listening to the little ray of sunshine talk, voice bright enough to warm the inside of my sternum.
And for now, that has to be enough. Grace can quiet the noise, but in the background, he’s still there, and I’m nowhere near ready for what that means.