7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Declan
A woman walks in, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. She smiles, eyes twinkling with warmth as she reaches out, her touch electric. We’re in a familiar setting, yet it’s somehow surreal. It’s like the cozy kitchen from my very first apartment, with sunlight filtering through lace curtains and painting patterns on the checkered floor.
Her voice is a melody, soft and reassuring. “Declan,” she says, her hand on mine, a gentle squeeze that speaks volumes. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
I lean into her, the scent of her lingering—vanilla. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
She smiles again, a smile that could light up the darkest corners of my mind. “I’m here now,” she says, her gaze holding mine.
I wake up to the shrill ring of my phone, cutting through the remnants of a dream involving the mysterious brown-haired woman.
I groan, fumbling for it on the nightstand.
“Hello?” I mumble, not fully awake.
“Declan, it’s Coach. How soon can you and Finn come down to the rink?”
I glance at the clock. It’s barely eight. “Uh, we can be there as soon as possible. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just talked to the club owners. We need to talk.”
I feel a pang of nerves as I hang up. I pull myself out of bed and head to Lily’s room. Her blonde hair is strewn over the pillow, her little body tangled in the covers. Her room is a typical seven-year-old’s paradise: stuffed animals scattered everywhere, walls covered in crayon drawings, and a dollhouse in the corner. The nightlight projects stars on the ceiling.
I quietly back out of her room and call Finn.
“Coach wants to meet us,” I tell him.
“Shit. I’m in Bucktown, but I’ll leave now.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
I dial Claire next, pacing the hallway. “Hey, Claire, can you come look after Lily? Coach needs us down at the office.”
“Sure, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she replies.
I thank her and head to the bathroom. The hot shower helps clear the fog from my brain. I think about the dream, the woman’s face, which is still a blur. Shaking it off, I finish up and throw on some clothes.
By the time I’m dressed, Claire is knocking at the door. I let her in and give her a quick rundown.
“Lily’s still asleep. She’ll probably be up soon. There’s breakfast stuff in the kitchen.”
“No problem. I’ll text you as soon as she is up,” she says with a smile.
I grab my gear and head out, my mind racing. What could the club owners want? I try not to think the worst as I drive to the rink.
Finn is waiting outside when I arrive, looking as anxious as I feel.
“Any idea what this is about?” he asks.
“No clue. Let’s just get inside and find out.”
We head straight to Coach’s office, a small space cluttered with hockey memorabilia. A Chicago Icebreakers jersey hangs proudly on the wall, flanked by photos of past teams and trophies. The room smells faintly of old leather and sweat.
Coach motions for us to sit down. “All right, boys. The club owners want to make some changes.”
Finn shifts his shoulder under the ratty UCLA T-shirt that he’s wearing. “What kind of changes?”
“They’re talking about expanding the team, maybe bringing in some new blood,” Coach explains.
I exchange a glance with Finn, feeling a knot form in my stomach. Changes in sports teams usually mean uncertainty.
“We’re on board with whatever the team needs,” I say, trying to sound confident.
Finn nods in agreement.
Coach leans forward, his expression serious. “Here’s the deal, though. The loss in our last game has the investors antsy. We need to step up our game.”
I resist the urge to curse under my breath. The loss was tough, but we’re not about to let it define our season.
“We had an off game,” I jump in, “but we’re mobilizing the team to put in the work. Extra hours, whatever it takes.”
Coach nods approvingly. “Good. We’re also going to need to win the people’s vote.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Public support. We’ll need to engage the fans, get them excited about the team.”
“Any ideas?” Finn asks.
“Not yet,” Coach admits. “But I’ll let you know when we have something for you.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “What time’s practice?”
“Noon,” Coach replies. “Get yourselves ready.”
“All right,” I say, standing up. “We’ll see you there.”
As Finn and I head out, the weight of the meeting settles on my shoulders. Finn breaks the silence on the drive.
“Should we be worried?”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “Nah. We had a rough game, but we’ll make sure it’s the only loss we have this year.”
Finn nods, seeming to accept my optimism. “Let’s hope so.”