Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
DECLAN
The house is packed by the time Sutton gets home from her shift.
I'm in the kitchen mixing drinks when I see her walk through the front door. She stops, taking in the crowd. I feel a little guilty that she’s being greeted by loud music and chaos.
It wasn’t my idea to host a party, but it’s a free weekend, something we rarely get during the season.
I weave through bodies to get to her.
"Hey." I kiss her cheek. "How was work?"
"Exhausting." She eyes the party warily. "What's all this?"
"Crew decided we needed to blow off steam before the next game. I tried to keep it small." I gesture at the fifty-plus people crammed into our living room. "Obviously failed."
"Is Bree here?"
"No. Absolutely not. Holden made it very clear she's not welcome here anymore." I take her hand. "I promise. Just teammates and friends."
She relaxes slightly. "Okay."
"Come have a drink. Relax. You've been working all week."
I lead her to the kitchen and make her favorite—vodka cranberry with extra lime. She takes it gratefully and leans against the counter.
"How's your day been?" she asks.
"Long. Practice was brutal. Coach is riding us hard before the home game." I move closer, boxing her in against the counter. "But it's better now that you're here."
She smiles. "Smooth."
"I try." I lean down to kiss her.
She tastes like the cherry ChapStick she always wears. I deepen the kiss, one hand sliding to her waist.
"Declan," she murmurs against my mouth. "We're in public."
"So?"
"So, people are watching."
"Let them watch." I kiss down her neck. "I want everyone to know you're mine."
She laughs and pushes at my chest. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you."
"Oh my god, that was so cheesy."
"But you loved it."
"I did not."
"You're smiling."
"That doesn't mean anything."
I kiss her again because I can. Because she's here, we're okay, and I'm not taking that for granted ever again. I want everyone in the room to know I’m with her and no one else.
We migrate to the living room, where Ashton has set up beer pong. Sutton insists on being on my team even though she's terrible at it.
"I made that shot!" she protests when her ball bounces off the table.
"You were aiming for the cup on the left," I point out.
"Details."
We're laughing, her tucked under my arm, when I see him.
Cole Crawford, stumbling through the front door.
My entire body tenses.
"Who invited him?" I ask Ashton.
"No idea. Probably came with someone else."
I watch as Cole makes his way through the crowd. He's drunk. Really drunk. Swaying on his feet, words slurring when he talks to people.
"Declan." Sutton's hand on my arm. "Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're glaring at him like you want to commit murder."
"Because I do."
"He's drunk and pathetic. Just ignore him."
I try. I really do.
But Cole keeps getting closer. Keeps looking at Sutton. Keeps finding reasons to be in our general vicinity.
We're at the beer pong table when he finally makes his move.
"Sutton!" He stumbles over, all fake enthusiasm. "There you are! I've been looking for you."
"Go away, Cole," she says without looking at him.
"Come on, don't be like that. Let's talk, just for a minute." He reaches for her.
I step between them. "She said, ‘Go away.’"
"I wasn't talking to you, Hayes." He tries to move around me. "Sutton, please. Just give me five minutes."
"No." She moves closer to me. "I've asked you multiple times to leave me alone."
"But I need to tell you something. About him." Cole points at me. "About what he's been doing."
"I don't care."
"You should care! He's playing you!" Cole's voice is getting louder. People are starting to notice. "I saw him with Bree again. Yesterday. They were all over each other."
"You're a liar," I cut in.
"I'm not lying! I saw you!"
"You didn't see anything because I wasn't with Bree." My hands clench into fists. "Now get out of my house."
"I have just as much right to be here as all these other assholes.”
"Actually, you don't." Ashton appears beside us. "This house is for hockey team members only. You need to leave."
"Make me."
Wrong thing to say.
I'm about to physically remove him when Cole lunges past me and grabs Sutton's wrist.
"Just listen to me," he pleads, pulling her toward him. "Please, Sutton. I'm trying to protect you."
"Let go of me!" She tries to yank her arm back.
That's all it takes.
I grab Cole by his shirt and shove him away from her. Hard.
He stumbles backward, barely catching himself on the beer pong table.
"Don't fucking touch her," I growl.
"Or what?" Cole straightens up, puffing out his chest. "You going to hit me? Big, tough hockey player?"
"If you don't leave right now, yeah."
"Declan, don't." Sutton's hand on my arm. "He's not worth it."
But Cole's not done. He gets in my face, reeking of cheap beer.
"She's going to leave you anyway," he says. "When you go to Seattle, she'll realize what a mistake you are. And I'll be here, waiting."
I snap.
My fist connects with his jaw before I can think about it. The satisfying crunch of impact. The shock on his face as he staggers backward.
Then he's coming at me, swinging wildly.
We crash into the beer pong table. Red cups fly everywhere. People scatter.
I land another punch to his ribs. He gets one on my cheek.
We're grappling, both of us trying to gain advantage, when strong hands grab me from behind.
"Declan! Stop!" Ashton hauls me backward.
Pierce has Cole by the shoulders, pulling him the other direction.
I'm still trying to get at him when pain explodes through my right hand.
"Shit!" I look down at my hand. My middle finger is bent at the wrong angle.
"Oh my god." Sutton's voice cuts through the noise. "Declan, your hand!"
The adrenaline is already fading, replaced by throbbing pain.
"Get him out of here," Ashton says to Holden and Crew.
They grab Cole and physically drag him toward the door. He's shouting something about pressing charges, but I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears.
"Let me see." Sutton takes my hand gently.
Even her light touch makes me wince.
"It's broken," she says, her voice shaking. "Declan, your finger is broken."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine! You have a game in less than a week!" She's pulling out her phone. "I'm calling an Uber. We're going to the emergency room."
"It’s not a big deal."
"Now, Declan, we're going now."
I don't argue.
Ashton helps me to the front porch while Sutton waits for the Uber.
"That was stupid," he says.
"I know."
"Coach is going to kill you."
"I know."
"Was it worth it?"
I look at Sutton, who's pacing on the sidewalk, phone pressed to her ear as she talks to someone—probably Keira.
"Yeah. It was worth it."
The Uber arrives, and Sutton helps me into the back seat. Her hand is shaking when she reaches for mine.
"I'm so sorry," she says. "This is all my fault."
"How is this your fault?"
"Cole only came here because of me. Because he won't leave me alone. And now you're hurt.” Her voice breaks. "God, Declan, what if you can't play?"
"Hey." I cup her face with my good hand. "This is not your fault. Cole's a creep who can't take no for an answer. That's on him."
"But you hit him because of me."
"I hit him because he grabbed you.” I kiss her forehead. "I'd do it again."
"Don't say that."
"It's true."
She leans against me for the rest of the ride, her hand carefully holding my injured one.
The ER waiting room is depressing. We check in, and the nurse takes one look at my hand and grimaces.
"Hockey fight?" she asks.
"Something like that."
"You boys and your fists." She shakes her head. "Take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly."
But “shortly” ends up meaning forty-five minutes.
Sutton sits beside me the whole time, looking miserable.
"Stop it," I tell her.
"Stop what?"
"Stop blaming yourself. I can see it all over your face."
"I can't help it. You broke your hand because of me."
"I broke my hand because I punched an asshole who deserved it. And it was worth it."
"How can you say that?"
"Because no one gets to put their hands on you. No one gets to harass you. And if defending you means sitting out a game or two, then that's fine."
A nurse calls my name.
The doctor is a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude.
"Let's see what we're dealing with." She examines my hand carefully. "Can you move it?"
I try. Pain shoots through my finger.
"Nope."
"Didn't think so." She orders an X-ray.
Twenty minutes later, we're looking at the images on a screen.
"Small fracture," the doctor says, pointing to a barely visible line. "Right here at the base of your middle finger."
"How long until he can play?" Sutton asks.
The doctor looks at me. "Hockey player?"
"Yeah."
"You need to sit out for at least two weeks. Maybe three. Depends on how it heals."
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?" Sutton stares at me. "That's all you have to say?"
"What else is there to say?"
The doctor smiles slightly. "I'm going to tape it to your ring finger for stability. Buddy taping. Keep it immobilized for now. Ice it regularly. Take ibuprofen for the pain." She starts wrapping my fingers together.
When we're finally discharged, it's after midnight. Sutton orders another Uber, and we ride home in silence.
My hand is throbbing despite the painkillers they gave me.
"I'm sorry," Sutton says again.
"Stop apologizing."
"I can't help it."
"Try."
We get home to find the party has broken up. Only Ashton and Pierce are cleaning up in the living room.
"How bad?" Ashton asks.
I hold up my taped fingers.
"Shit. What did the doctor say?"
"Two weeks minimum."
Ashton laughs. “Has the doctor never met a hockey player?”
I grin. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s not the first time I’ve played with broken fingers.”
“You’re going to play?” Sutton asks.
“Damn straight.”
She rolls her eyes. “I knew it. I was wondering why you were being so cool when she said you couldn’t play.”
I shrug. “No point in telling her otherwise. Come on, let’s go to bed.”
“I’ll get an ice pack.”
She helps me ice my hand, both of us sitting on my bed with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
"Not too bad." It's a lie. It hurts like hell. But I'm not telling her that.
"Liar."
"Okay, it hurts. But I've had worse."
"Worse than a broken bone?"
"Separated shoulder sophomore year. Concussion junior year. This is nothing."
She carefully adjusts the ice pack.
"A broken finger isn't keeping me off the ice."
“Honestly, I don’t think it would keep me off either.”
I smile and kiss her. Even with the throbbing pain in my hand, even with the lecture I'm going to get from Coach tomorrow, it was definitely worth it.