Chapter 4
Chapter Four
DECLAN
Walking into the house after another conversation with my father, I smelled her.
Not her, but her cooking. Lemon chicken. Pierce has been talking about that stupid recipe all week. He must have convinced her to make it for him.
“Dinner’s ready!” Pierce calls out.
I could go hide in my room.
But that chicken smells good.
I drop my bag in the living room and go to investigate.
Seeing her in my kitchen again hurts. It makes me want all the things she took from me when she bailed.
“Grab a plate,” Pierce says.
The rest of the guys file in, practically tripping over one another to get to the good stuff.
We sit at the table, and once again, they’re filling the silence with mindless chatter.
“You think the girls are going to make the playoffs?” Holden asks Sutton.
She cringes and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. We started out strong, but we’ve lost our mojo. Our goalie is out with a fractured ankle. One of our best defensemen separated her shoulder. We’re dropping like flies.”
“Bummer,” Crew says.
Then we spend another fifteen minutes talking about our season. We’re shoe-ins for the playoffs. If we keep playing the way we have been, we’ll be champions.
Sutton and I manage to sit at the same table, sharing a meal and never once speaking directly to each other. That’s a real skill.
After dinner, everyone bails. Crew has to go see Kiera. Holden and Pierce are going to do laundry, and Ashton just runs.
I’m not an idiot. I see what they’re doing. They’re giving us time alone.
And that’s the last thing I want. Or need.
“We really need to talk and clear the air,” Sutton says as we load the dishwasher.
“No, we don’t.”
“Declan, stop. Can we just talk?”
“Now you want to talk? You bailed without a goodbye, and suddenly it’s time to have a conversation.”
“If you don’t want me here, please tell me. I’ll leave.”
“No, you won’t. You don’t have anywhere to go. I told the guys I was fine with you being here.”
“As long as we don’t talk or see each other, right?”
I shrug. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay, how about this? I’m going to take two cold beers out back.
I’ll be out there waiting. If you join me, we can figure this out.
If you don’t want to talk, I’ll take my garbage bags and find somewhere to live.
I will not live here with you going out of your way to avoid me.
I am not going to make your living arrangement hell. ”
She leaves me with the dishes and goes out back.
“Shit.”
I finish the dishes because I’m not going to run out there. I need to pretend I’m thinking.
I grab my coat, go outside, and flop in one of the chairs. She hands me a beer.
“Are you going to sign?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t know.”
“But you enjoyed Seattle. You told me that much.”
“I enjoyed Seattle because I thought I had the option of having both.”
“Both?”
“You and hockey.”
I stare at the beer bottle in my hand, watching condensation drip down the glass. "The offer is good. Really good. But every time I think about signing, I freeze."
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't feel right." I take a long drink. "Because I keep thinking about what it means—leaving here, leaving..." I trail off.
"Leaving what?"
"You know what."
She's quiet. I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't look at her. If I look at her, I'll say something I can't take back.
"Declan, you have to take it. This is what you've worked for your entire life."
"Is it?" I finally turn to face her.
"Don't do that. Don't pretend you don't love hockey."
"I do love hockey. I'm not saying I don't. But I also love—" I stop myself. "I also want other things."
"Like what?"
I lean back in the chair. "Like making my own choices for once instead of following the script everyone else wrote for me."
"Taking the Seattle offer is your choice."
"Is it? Or is it just the path of least resistance?" I shake my head. "I went to Seattle thinking it would give me clarity. That I'd know what I wanted. But all it did was show me what I'd be giving up."
She doesn't say anything for a long moment. "What would you be giving up?"
Everything. You. The possibility of us.
But I can't say that. Not when she's made it clear there is no us.
"I don't know," I lie. "That's the problem. I don't know what I want."
"You're lying."
I look at her then. She's watching me with those blue eyes that have always seen through my bullshit.
"Maybe," I admit.
"So tell me the truth."
"The truth is complicated."
"Try me."
I take another drink, buying myself time.
"The truth is, I can't sign that contract because every time I try, all I can think about is you.
About the fact that you're not going to be there.
" I set the beer down. "And I know that's not fair.
I know you made your choice, and I need to respect that.
But I can't just flip a switch and stop caring. "
"I never asked you to stop caring."
"You asked me to let you go. Same thing."
"It's not the same."
"Isn't it?" I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
"You broke up with me so I could focus on hockey.
So I could take this opportunity without feeling guilty.
But the thing is, I do feel guilty. I feel guilty for wanting you more than I want Seattle.
I feel guilty for not being able to move on like you apparently have. "
"I haven't moved on."
"You haven't?"
"No." She looks down at her hands. "I've been pretending. Trying to convince myself that leaving was the right thing to do. That you'd be better off without me in the way."
"In the way of what?"
"Your future."
"You are my future." The words come out before I can stop them. "Or you were. I don't know anymore."
She’s quiet for several seconds, and then she gets up and goes back into the house, leaving me alone in the cold.
I sit there for another ten minutes, finishing my beer and trying to figure out where we go from here—trying to figure out if there even is a "we" anymore.
Eventually, I give up and go inside. Her bedroom door is closed, a clear sign she’s not interested in finishing our conversation.
When I open my door, I freeze.
Sutton is in my bed.
She's sitting up against the headboard, wearing one of my shirts.
My heart skips.
"Hi," she says quietly.
"Hi." I close the door behind me.
I should tell her to leave. I need to protect myself from this woman who has the power to turn me inside out.
But I can't make myself say the words.
Instead, I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed.
She shifts, moving behind my back. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For leaving. For not talking to you. For making everything so complicated."
"It's okay."
"It's not okay. I hurt you."
"Yeah." I look at her. "You did."
"I thought I was doing the right thing."
"I know."
"But I wasn't. I was just scared." Her voice breaks. "I'm still scared."
"Of what?"
"Of being the reason you don't take your shot. Of holding you back. I can’t stand the idea of you resenting me five years from now because you chose me over your dreams."
"Those aren't my dreams. They're my dad's dreams."
"Are you sure about that?"
I think about it. "I love hockey. I love playing. But the NHL? That’s a commitment.
I don’t know if I want to commit to that life.
I can’t commit to it without you. And before you say anything, I know you think you’re holding me back.
I’m better with you, Sutton. If I sign and don’t have you, I’ll be out within a year. I need you.”
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches out and takes my hand.
"What do you want, Declan? Really want?"
"You," I say it without hesitation. "I want you."
Her breath catches. "Oh, dammit, Declan. You’re killing me."
"I'm not asking you to follow me to Seattle.
I'm not asking you to give up your plans or your future or anything else.
" I squeeze her hand. "I'm just telling you the truth. I want you. And I'm tired of pretending I don't. We’ll figure things out. I want my cake, and I want to eat it, too. And I will if you let me. If you know anything about me, you know I’m not the guy who doesn’t get what he wants. "
"I've been making decisions for both of us without asking what you wanted. I decided we couldn't work long-distance. I decided you needed to go to Seattle. I decided everything except the one thing that actually mattered."
"What's that?"
"What we both wanted." She moves closer. "I love you, Declan. I never stopped loving you. I was just too scared to admit that maybe love is enough."
"Is it enough?"
"I don't know, but I want to find out." She reaches up and touches my face. "If you'll let me."
I kiss her.