Chapter 45
~Deacon~
Kissing Daley hurts like hell. I do it anyway because she’s irresistible, but when her nose brushes against my broken one, a sharp, electric pain lances through my face. My breath hitches before I can stop it and Daley immediately pulls back, her wide eyes full of horror.
“Don’t make things worse!” she chides. “Kissing might be off the table for a little while.”
“Fuck that,” I grumble despite the lingering ache radiating through my skull. I reach for her again, but she pulls back just as fast, putting some distance between us.
“I mean it, Deacon. I’m not kissing your mouth if it’s going to hurt you.”
My eyebrows raise suggestively. “But you’ll still kiss other places?”
The look she throws me, equal parts exasperation and heat, makes me chuckle, which is a mistake. Pain explodes in my nose, like a hammer slamming against the bone. I swear under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut for a second.
Daley just shakes her head. “Men are such boys.”
I’m not going to argue with her on that. “As long as I’m yours, I’ll take it.”
Her cheeks flush a soft pink, the color creeping up her neck, just like it did the first time I called her my girlfriend. A little, ridiculous thrill stirs in my gut. When was the last time I felt giddy over a woman?
Above us, the distant noise of the crowd shifts into a rhythmic stomp, the sound vibrating through the floors, signalling the start of the second period, and my good mood sours a little. I hate missing even a second of a game. Doesn’t feel right to be stuck here while my team is out there.
“I should get back to my seat, I guess,” Daley says, glancing towards the ceiling as if she can see right through it.
I get it. Her son is still playing, but if I’m stuck down here for the period, I’d rather not be alone.
“There’s a lounge next door with a TV,” I offer. “You could watch there with me if you want. Your call.”
Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip as she considers, her eyes flicking to mine. When she smiles, I know I’ve won. “Alright. I should text the boys so they don’t worry.”
I hop down from the exam table, my skates thudding against the floor, and lead her down the hallway.
The lounge is warm and slightly stuffy, the faint scent of stale coffee lingering in the air.
Inside, there’s a couple of couches, armchairs, a small fridge, and a big-screen TV already tuned into the game, the volume turned down low.
The room is empty, probably because it’s a preseason game, or maybe just because most people prefer watching in person.
Either way, I’m grateful for the privacy.
I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and toss one to Daley. “Sit down,” I say, digging through a box of utensils on top of the fridge.
Daley watches me, bottle in hand, with a bemused expression. “What are you doing?”
I finally find a paper straw still in its wrapper and wave it at her. “Drinking without messing up my nose any more.”
She snorts softly, a sound I won’t be making anytime soon, and pulls her phone from her pocket. As soon as the screen lights up, she stiffens.
“What’s going on?” I ask, taking a seat next to her. The couch sags slightly under my weight.
“Jane has tried to call me like ten times, but I had my ringer off.” Her voice tightens, her fingers gripping the phone a little too hard. “It must be serious if she didn’t just text.”
That doesn’t sound great. “Call her back.”
She shoots off a quick message to Jonny and Brayden before dialling. The moment Jane picks up, her voice screeches through the speaker so loud that I can hear every word.
“Finally! What the hell is going on down there?”
Daley throws me a confused glance. “You mean with Deacon? He’s okay, but his nose is broken. I’m with him now.”
“No, I mean with you! Why the hell are you taking selfies in the restroom with Deke’s ex-wife?”
If she didn’t already have my full attention, she definitely has it now. “You did what?”
Daley blinks, looking completely lost. “What are you talking about?”
Her phone dings loudly. She lowers it to open the photo Jane just sent, and the second she sees it, the color drains from her face.
I lean in, my gut clenching at the sight of Megan’s smug smile and Daley’s startled, dazed expression. The contrast between them is jarring: Megan, poised and camera-ready, like she’s posing for a magazine spread; Daley, caught mid-moment, all soft edges and openness.
“That’s your wife?” Daley asks, her voice slightly pinched.
“Ex-wife,” I grit out, my jaw tight. “And yeah, that’s her. What the hell happened?”
She doesn’t answer me right away, instead pulling the phone back to her ear. “Where did you get this?”
“She posted it everywhere,” Jane says. “Suggesting you two are friends or some bullshit. And calling you River’s mom. So that cat is definitely out of the bag. Between that and Deke getting hit, social media is going crazy right now.”
Well, shit. I knew Daley’s anonymity wouldn’t last forever, but the fact that Megan is once again the one to blow things up sets my teeth on edge.
Daley exhales sharply, rubbing her hand over her face. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll… figure it out, I guess.”
Jane wishes her luck before hanging up, and Daley slumps back against the couch, her head tilting up toward the ceiling.
“You know,” she mutters, “I thought that whole interaction in the restroom was weird, but I had no idea who she was.”
I believe her. The fact that Daley never even looked up photos of me and Megan together says everything about her. Megan researched my exes obsessively, sizing up the so-called ‘competition’.
“What exactly happened?” I ask.
She recounts her experience while the game plays in the background. On the screen, Brady is shadowing Erik now since I’m out of the picture. Tempers are running high, and it wouldn’t surprise me if someone snaps.
When Daley finishes, I shake my head. “She obviously recognized you from the picture and followed you in there. She was probably expecting to find you in the friends and family section on my ticket.”
“And I went and blurted out that River’s my son,” Daley groans.
“You’re proud of him. That’s normal. She’s the one acting like a crazy person.”
Daley sighs, then reaches for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. Her grip is warm and steady, and I squeeze back, grounding us both as we turn our attention to the game.
Brady finally gets called for a penalty, taking a late hit on Erik, and the Wolves capitalize with a power-play goal. The crowd’s roar vibrates through the walls, echoing the flicker of pride in my chest.
Oregon pulls one back before the period ends, but at least we get to the buzzer without further drama. I immediately stand, rolling my shoulders.
“I’m going to find the doctor. Are you going back to your seat or do you want to stay here?” I ask.
Daley hesitates, her lips twisting. “If my picture is all over the place, I’d rather not draw more attention tonight.”
Good point. “Alright. Hang out here, then. I’ll tell one of the managers so someone checks in on you, and I’ll come find you after the game.”
She stands and presses a soft kiss to my cheek, careful to avoid my nose. Her lips are warm, her breath a whisper against my skin.
“Good luck,” she murmurs.
With that, I turn and head back to get bandaged up. I have a game to finish, and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving here tonight without a win.