Chapter 3
Chapter Three
DECLAN
Yungblud is in my ears as I jog around the track. He’s singing about being a zombie. That’s me. I feel like a zombie. I’m up way too early. I had to find a way to work through the pain.
After pushing myself too hard and knowing without a doubt I’m going to be feeling the extra workout at practice today, I head home to shower.
My head is clear.
I know what I have to do.
I find Bree in the library.
She's sitting at a study table with her laptop open, looking perfectly put together in designer athleisure. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and her makeup is flawless. She looks up when I approach and has the audacity to smile.
"Declan! You look gorgeous."
And we both know that’s bullshit. I look like I’ve been gutted with a rusty spoon.
"Outside. Now."
Her smile falters. "What?"
"I said outside. Unless you want to have this conversation in front of everyone."
She glances around at the other students, then closes her laptop. "Fine."
I lead her to a quiet spot behind the building where no one will interrupt us. Unlike her, I don’t appreciate having the attention. I don’t want the drama. That’s her thing. She’s always on a stage in her mind.
"What's your problem?" she asks, all innocence.
"You know exactly what my problem is." I pull out my phone and show her the photo. "This. You staged this whole thing."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb, Bree. You set me up. The crying. Asking me to walk you to your room. Wearing my hoodie. Someone just happened to be there at the perfect moment to take a photo?"
She crosses her arms. "So what if I did?"
The casual admission catches me off guard. "What?"
"You heard me. So what if I staged it?" She steps closer. "I was just showing Sutton what you really want and need. I wanted her to see that you and I are good together. We work. You and Sutton are a disaster waiting to happen."
"Are you insane? I don't want to be with you!"
"You do. You just don't realize it yet." Her voice takes on that syrupy sweet tone that makes my skin crawl. "You've been sending mixed signals for weeks, Declan. The way you touch my arm when we talk. How you laugh at my jokes. The way you look at me when you think no one's watching."
I stare at her in disbelief. "I've never looked at you like anything. I've been polite. That's it."
"Polite." She laughs. "Is that what you're calling it? The coffee you made me that morning in the kitchen? The time you asked if I needed help with my bags?"
"You're misinterpreting basic human decency for romantic interest!"
"Am I?" She tilts her head. "Because from where I'm standing, you've been giving me plenty of reasons to think you're interested."
"I have a girlfriend!"
"A girlfriend who doesn't fit in your world and who delivers fries for pennies while you're going to the NHL. She can't keep up with your lifestyle." She reaches out to touch my chest, and I grab her wrist.
"Don't."
"See? Even now, you're touching me."
I drop her wrist like it's burning me. "You're delusional."
"I'm realistic. Sutton's sweet, but she's not right for you.
She doesn't understand what it takes to be with someone like you.
The pressure. The expectations. The scrutiny.
" She moves closer. "I understand. I could be what you need. I know the world we live in and what’s expected of a hockey wife. I know the right people. The right parties.”
"You're what I need to stay far away from."
She scowls, pushing her lips into a pout. "You're making a mistake."
"The only mistake I made was being nice to you." I step back. "Stay away from me. Stay away from Sutton. And stop spreading lies about me."
"They're not lies if people believe them."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She smiles, and it's cold. "Everyone's been watching us, Declan. Seeing how we interact. How comfortable we are together. I didn't have to say much—people drew their own conclusions."
"You manipulated them."
"I showed them what was already there." She picks up her bag. "And now Sutton sees it, too. She's not coming back to you. You're free."
"I don't want to be free of her. I want you out of my life!"
"We'll see how you feel in a few weeks." She starts to walk away, then turns back. "Oh, and Declan? I won’t wait forever. I’ve been patient, but even I have my limits.”
She leaves me standing there, my blood boiling.
I need to talk to Holden. It’s time to bury the nonsense—bros before hoes and all that.
I find him in the weight room, running on the treadmill. He sees me coming and immediately tenses.
"I'm not here to fight," I say, holding up my hands. "I'm here to apologize."
He slows the treadmill to a stop, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. "For what?"
"For the fight. I should have handled that differently."
"Yeah, you should have." He steps off the treadmill. "But I shouldn't have accused you without proof."
"You had proof. Bree told you I was flirting with her."
"Bree told me a lot of things." He tosses the towel aside. "Turns out most of it was bullshit."
"What did she tell you?"
"That you were unhappy with Sutton. That you felt trapped. That you'd been venting to her about your relationship problems." He looks at me directly. "Was any of that true?"
"No. I never talked to Bree about Sutton. I barely talked to Bree at all."
"That's what I figured after I thought about it." He leans against the wall. "She played us both, man. She told me you were jealous of us dating. Told you I was accusing you of leading her on. Made sure we'd be pissed at each other."
I think about the fight and how Holden came at me so aggressively. "She wanted us to fight."
"Public drama. Makes the whole thing look more real." He shakes his head. "She's been playing this game for weeks. I just didn't see it."
"Neither did I. Not until it was too late." I sit down on a nearby bench. "What else did she tell people?"
"That you were getting close again. That you'd asked about her when we first started dating.
Said you seemed uncomfortable when we'd be together in front of you.
She told me not to kiss her because it was rude to rub it in your face.
" He sits beside me. "She'd position us so you'd have to walk by.
She made sure we were in your line of sight. Then she'd tell me you were staring."
"I wasn't staring."
"I know that now.” He shrugs. "It seemed plausible. You and Bree have a history."
"We don't have a history. She kissed me at a party four years ago, and I pushed her away. That's it."
"She made it sound like more."
"She was manufacturing moments," I say slowly. "Making it look like we were close from the outside."
"Yeah, and posting about it strategically." Holden pulls out his phone. "Look at her Instagram. She'd post cryptic things after seeing you. Make it look like you two had been together."
I scroll through her recent posts and shake my head. “I really thought if I ignored her, she would just go away.”
Holden stands up. "Sutton thinks you cheated. Everyone thinks you cheated. Even some on the team.”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”
"Man, I'm sorry,” Holden says. “I didn’t even really like her. She’s hot, but damn, she’s annoying.”
"It's not your fault. Bree's good at this. She's been manipulating everyone."
My phone rings. My dad's name flashes on the screen.
I consider not answering, but that'll just make him call more.
"Yeah?"
"Declan. We need to talk about this photo situation."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Do you have any idea what this is doing to your image?"
"My image?"
"You're about to go to dev camp! Do you think Seattle wants a player with this kind of drama? Bad publicity, relationship scandals—this is exactly the kind of thing that makes teams hesitate."
"Why are you looking at college drama?"
"I see everything. I’m paid to see it all. It looks bad." I hear him suck in a breath. "This girl is costing you everything—your reputation, the Seattle deal, your focus. You need to end it. Get her out of that damn house.”
"Sutton didn't do anything wrong. Bree staged that photo to break us up."
"Then she succeeded. And honestly? Good.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“Break up with the girl. Focus on dev camp. Show Seattle you're serious.” He ends the call, and that’s that.
“You okay?” Holden asks.
“No.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Wanna get drunk?”
“Yes, but I won’t. I have to figure this out, and drunk isn’t the way to do it.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks.”
I walk away, wondering if my dad is right. Sutton doesn’t want me. That certainly clears up any stress I had about leaving her.
Maybe it is for the best.