Chapter 3
Chapter Three
DECLAN
Ican't find the puck.
It's right there in front of me. I can see it. But my stick feels like concrete, and my skates might as well be cement blocks.
"Hayes! What the hell was that?" Coach's whistle pierces the air. "You just missed an open net!"
I know. I fucking know.
I skate back to position, trying to shake off whatever fog has settled over me. But it's useless. Every play feels wrong. My timing is off. My passes are sloppy. I'm playing like a rookie, not like someone who just had the game of his life two days ago.
Two days ago, when everything was perfect.
Before Sutton looked at me like I'd destroyed her.
"Again!" Coach yells.
We run the drill again. I'm supposed to receive a pass from Crew, cut across the blue line, and set up Ashton for the shot. Simple. We've done this a thousand times.
Except Crew's pass comes, and I completely whiff on it. The puck slides past me like I'm not even there.
"Time out!" Coach skates to center ice. "Hayes, with me. Now."
Shit.
I follow him off the ice, with my teammates watching. I can feel their irritation with me. Forty-eight hours ago, I was unstoppable. Now I can't complete a simple drill.
Coach pulls me into the tunnel, away from everyone else.
"What's going on with you?"
"Nothing, Coach. Just an off day."
"An off day?" He crosses his arms. "Son, you're playing as if you've never seen a hockey stick before. That's not an off day. That's something else."
I stare at my skates. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. And I need to know if this is going to be a problem going forward."
“It won’t be.”
“You’re playing like someone who's trying to sabotage himself."
The observation hits too close to home.
"I'm not trying to sabotage anything."
“We've got a season to play, and I can't have my center forward falling apart. It’s not just your ass on the line. All those guys out there are counting on you to help them in their own careers."
No pressure or anything.
"I'll handle it."
“Get your head straight.”
“Yes, sir.”
After what had to be the worst practice ever, I’m in the locker room doing my best to ignore the looks.
Ashton is beside me, putting on his shoes. "Is it official? Are you going to dev camp?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? He made an offer, didn't he?"
I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to my dad.”
"Your dad must be losing his mind."
"He called sixteen times. I turned off my phone." I lean back against the lockers. "I can't think about Seattle right now. I can't think about any of it."
"Because of Sutton."
Just hearing her name hurts.
"I screwed up. I should have told her from the beginning. But I was scared and stupid, and now she hates me. You told me to do it, and I didn’t."
"She doesn't hate you. She's hurt."
"Same thing." I close my eyes. "I tried to talk to her yesterday. Brought her coffee. Found her in the quad with some guy."
"What guy?"
"I don't know. Some asshole with his hand on her knee, sitting way too close. They looked pretty cozy." The memory feels like I’m being cut from my naval to my sternum. "So I guess that's that. We're done. She's already moving on."
"Did you ask her about it?"
"Why would I? I saw what I saw." I stand up, grabbing my bag. "If she wants to be with someone else, fine.”
"You're both my friends, and you're both being idiots." He follows me toward the exit. "What did this guy look like?"
"I don't know. Tall. Dark hair. Smug face. Why?"
"Was his name Cole?"
I stop walking. "You know him?"
"Cole Crawford. Premed. Total douchebag. He dated Sutton junior year for, like, three months." Ashton leans against the wall. “The guy is pathetic."
"They looked pretty friendly."
“You talk to girls all the time.”
"I need to talk to her," I say. “I need to figure out what the hell is going on.”
"Yeah, you do. Talk to her when you're not completely unhinged, though. Don’t go in all pissed off and shit."
I've been waiting for two days, and it's killing me.
I need to know where we stand. If we're actually over. If there's any chance of fixing this.
And if we are over, fine. But I'm not going to sit back and watch her move on with some asshole who doesn't deserve her.
I get home with every intention of having that conversation, but she’s gone. Then I remember she’s working tonight.
At ten thirty, I hear the front door open—footsteps on the stairs.
I’m out of my room before I can talk myself out of it.
Sutton’s at her door, keys in hand. She’s wearing her work uniform—black pants and a white button-up that smells like grease and stale coffee. Her hair is falling out of its ponytail. She looks exhausted.
Beautiful.
Mine.
Except she’s not mine anymore.
Maybe.
Maybe I have a chance.
“We need to talk,” I say.
She turns, and the look on her face is pure exhaustion. “Declan, I’m tired. Can this wait?”
“No. It can’t.” I move closer. “Who is he?”
“He?”
“The guy who was all over you.”
She sighs and goes into her bedroom.
I follow because I need the answers to move on or fight.
“Who is he, Sutton?”
“Cole? The guy who wouldn’t leave me alone?”
“Didn’t look like he was bothering you. Looked like you were pretty comfortable with his hand on your knee.”
“Are you serious right now?” She turns to face me fully. “You’re going to accuse me of something?”
“I’m not accusing. I’m asking.”
“It sounds like accusing.”
“Well, what was I supposed to think? I show up, and you’re sitting there with some other guy touching you. Looking at you like you belong to him.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t belong to him. Or anyone. He showed up while I was studying. Started hitting on me. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal. You’re with me.”
She throws her hands in the air. “Am I? Instead of saying something, instead of fighting for me, you just walked away.” Tears are streaming down her face now. “You threw away the coffee and left. Like I wasn’t worth the effort.”
“I thought you were moving on.”
“I thought you didn’t care!”
“I care!” The words explode out of me. “I care so much it’s destroying me! I can’t sleep. I can’t play. I can’t think about anything except how badly I screwed this up!”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“Because—” I pause. Because I’ve never had to fight for a woman’s love and attention? That would definitely not come out right.
I take a deep breath. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder on you. It’s not fair to you.”
“Fair?” She laughs bitterly. “You want to talk about fair? You made me fall in love with you again. You promised me no more secrets. You begged me to trust you. And the entire time, you were planning your exit!”
“I wasn’t planning anything! I was trying to figure out how to make everyone happy! You. Me. My dad. My team.”
“So you didn’t think I mattered enough to tell me you were trying to figure out what made me happy?”
“You matter so much,” I whisper. “So much it hurts.”
“You chose to keep secrets instead of trusting me with the truth.”
I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out.
Because she’s right.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You’re right. I was going to tell you, but we were together, and I didn’t want to do anything to ruin that.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I trust you. I love you. I know I've done a terrible job of showing it, but I do. I love you more than hockey. More than my career. More than anything."
"Stop." Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "Don't say things you don't mean."
"I mean every word."
"You're just scared of losing me."
"I am scared. I'm terrified because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I keep screwing it up." My thumb brushes away her tears. "If you give me another chance, I swear there will never be another secret. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the hockey thing. Will you trust me when I say I am thinking about it? This is a big decision. I want the best of both worlds, but I know it isn’t possible. Please understand that I’m trying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What? Why?”
“The last thing you need is more pressure. But you have to be upfront with me. I can't survive you breaking my heart again."
"You won't have to.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She offers a small smile. “Okay. I want you to do what’s best for you. Do what makes you happy.”
“And if I choose Seattle?”
I see the hurt flash in her eyes. “Then we cross that bridge when we come to it.”
It’s hope. It’s a chance. She’s giving me a chance, and that’s all I can ask for.
“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” I murmur.
I see the moment she’s registering exactly what I’m saying. What I’m demanding.
I reach for her, my hand wrapping around the back of her neck as I yank her to me.