Chapter 5
Chapter Five
DECLAN
Iwake up to Sutton's hair tickling my nose.
For the first time in days, I don't immediately feel the crushing weight of anxiety. I just feel... peaceful.
She's curled against my side, her hand on my stomach with her face on my left pec. Her breathing is soft and even. I’m warm and naked and exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I could stay like this forever.
My phone buzzes in my pants on the floor. It’s probably almost dead. No way was I going to hunt down a charger when I had her beautiful body pressed up against me.
It kept buzzing. Probably a phone call instead of texts, like normal people do.
It had to be my dad. He loved the old-school phone conversations.
I ignore it.
Sutton stirs, making a sleepy sound that has me forgetting all about that annoying phone.
“Morning," she mumbles against my skin.
"Morning, beautiful." I press a kiss to her forehead.
"What time is it?"
"Early. Go back to sleep."
She shifts to look at me, her blue eyes still heavy with sleep.
She stretches, and the sheet slides down, revealing way too much skin for this early in the morning.
My body responds immediately.
"Don't look at me like that," she warns.
"Like what?"
"Like you're thinking about last night."
"I'm definitely thinking about last night." I pull her closer. "And this morning. And tonight."
She starts laughing. I love that sound more than anything.
My phone buzzes again. And again.
"You should probably get that," she says.
"It's nothing important."
"It's been going off for ten minutes. Someone really wants to talk to you."
"My dad."
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“Check and make sure it’s not serious,” she says.
I reach over, find my pants, and quickly pull out my phone.
Seven missed calls. Fifteen text messages. All in the last hour.
"Oh." Her expression shifts. "What does he want?"
"I'll deal with it later."
"Declan, what if something is wrong?"
"It’s not.”
“Seattle.”
“Yep. And I don't want to think about him right now. I just want to be here with you."
"Okay," she says finally. "But you'll have to deal with him eventually."
"I know. Just not right now."
We lie there for a few more minutes, but the mood has shifted. The peaceful bubble has been punctured.
"I should shower," she says, sitting up. "I have class in an hour."
"Want company?"
She gives me a look. "If you come in that shower, I'll be late for class."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes, Declan. Some of us care about our education."
"Ouch."
She leans down to kiss me. "I'll make it up to you tonight."
"I'll hold you to that."
While she's in the shower, I open the text thread with my dad. The messages from my dad become progressively more aggressive.
Dad: Where are you?
Dad: Call me immediately.
Dad: I’ve got to give them an answer.
Dad: This is unacceptable.
Dad: I smoothed things over, but you need to call him today.
Dad: The dev camp invite is coming. Don't blow this.
Dad: Call me NOW.
I should call him back.
But the thought of talking to him makes me feel sick.
I don’t bother to listen to the voicemails. I get up and go to my room.
Sutton steps out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel wrapped around her.
"Stop looking at me like that," she says, but she's smiling.
"Can't help it."
"Go shower. You smell like sex and shame."
"Just sex. No shame."
She laughs. "Go!"
When I get downstairs, Sutton's in the kitchen making eggs and toast. She's wearing leggings and one of my hoodies. I’m pretty sure she could turn me on wearing a burlap sack.
"Hungry?" she asks.
"Starving."
She plates our food, and we sit at the kitchen table. It feels domestic. Normal. Like we're an actual couple building an actual life together.
Except that nothing about our situation is normal.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I try to ignore it, but it keeps buzzing. Text after text.
“Declan, you’re going to have to talk to him. Is it about the scout?”
“Yes.”
“And? Are they going to snatch you up before the end of the semester?”
“Not that I know of. Haven’t talked to him.”
"We're going to have to talk about it eventually."
"I know."
"So when?"
"Soon. I promise. I just need time. I need to figure out what I want.”
"Okay," she says softly. "Soon."
But I can see the doubt in her eyes.
After Sutton leaves for class, I'm cleaning up the breakfast dishes when Bree appears in the kitchen doorway.
She's wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, her hair perfect, and her makeup is already done, like she woke up looking like a magazine cover.
"Morning," she says brightly. "Is there coffee?"
"Should be." I don't look at her. After last night, I want nothing to do with her.
She moves to the coffee pot and pours herself a cup. "That was quite a show last night."
I don't respond.
"I mean, the whole hallway thing." She leans against the counter. "Very dramatic."
"Bree, I'm not doing this with you."
"Doing what?" She blinks innocently. "I'm just making conversation."
"You were eavesdropping."
"I was walking by." She takes a sip of coffee. "Not my fault you two are loud."
My jaw clenches. "You need to leave Sutton alone."
"I'm not doing anything to Sutton." She steps closer. "I'm just saying, maybe you should think about what you really want. Seattle's a big opportunity. Are you really going to give that up for a girl like that?"
“Insult her again, and I’ll tell her, and she can handle it however she chooses.”
Bree touches my arm. "Come on, Declan. You and I both know how this ends. You're going pro. She's staying here. Long distance never works. She doesn’t understand our world."
I pull my arm away. "That's none of your business."
"I'm just trying to help."
"You're trying to cause problems."
"Am I?" She steps even closer. I back up against the counter like she’s got an actual case of cooties. "Or am I the only one being realistic about your situation?"
She reaches past me for a spoon, her body pressing against mine. "Oops. Sorry. Needed to get the sugar."
"Move."
"You used to like it when I got close to you."
"You’re delusional.”
Her eyes flash with anger, but she maintains her sweet smile.
I try to step around her, but she shifts, blocking me. Her hand lands on my chest.
"Bree, get off me."
She "accidentally" trips—hot liquid splashes across my shirt.
"Oh my god!" She grabs napkins. "I'm so sorry! Here, let me help. We should get this shirt off."
"Don't touch me."
But she's already pressing napkins against my chest, making a show of cleaning up the mess. Her hands linger way too long, and I grab her wrists.
"I said, don't touch me."
"What's going on?"
Holden stands in the doorway, looking between us with confusion.
"Nothing," I say quickly, releasing Bree's wrists.
"I’m such a klutz. I spilled my coffee on him. I was just trying to help clean it up." Bree is the picture of innocence. "He's being dramatic."
Holden looks at me with a weird expression. Not quite suspicious, but not entirely trusting either.
"Right," he says slowly. "Well, maybe use a towel next time, Bree."
"Of course." She smiles at him. "Morning, babe."
She kisses him, making a show of it, but her eyes are on me the entire time.
I leave before I say something I'll regret.
Upstairs, I change my shirt and decide to hang out in my room until they leave. My first class isn’t until eleven. And I want nothing to do with Bree and whatever games she’s playing.
I'm lying on my bed when I hear the front door open downstairs.
"Declan! Where are you?"
Shit.
My dad's voice echoes through the house. I consider pretending I'm not home, but that's pointless. My truck is in the driveway.
I drag myself off the bed and head downstairs. He's standing in the living room, still in his suit from whatever meeting he just came from. His briefcase sits by his feet. He doesn’t look happy.
Then again, he rarely does.
"Dad. What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you too, son." He doesn't sound offended. He never does. Everything rolls off him like water off a duck's back. "We need to talk. Since you must have lost your phone, I thought I would come by."
"I've been busy."
"Too busy to return phone calls?" He raises an eyebrow.
"I said I'd call you back when I had time."
"Well, I'm here now, so we're talking." He gestures to the couch. "Sit."
I don't sit. "Dad, I don't have time for this right now. I have class soon."
"Declan." His voice sharpens. "Sit down. This is important."
I sit because arguing with him when he uses that tone is pointless. He's like a force of nature—you can't stop him; you can only try to survive him.
He settles into the chair across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I have it on good word that the dev camp invite is in the works. Should be official within the week."
My stomach twists. "Okay."
"Okay? That's all you have to say?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Do you understand what this means? This is everything we've worked for. Everything you've sacrificed for."
"I know what it means."
"Then why do you look like I just told you your dog died?" He studies my face. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
“Then quit partying. And fucking.”
I flinch at his crassness.
“Is that it?” I snap. “I have to go.”
“Where’s Ashton?”
I shrug. “Class, I guess. Why?”
“They’re very interested in inviting Ashton out as well.”
“Really?”
“I’ll need to talk to him and make sure he understands what this might mean.”
Translation: he wants to sign him and get a chunk of whatever contract Ashton might be offered.
“Whatever,” I mutter.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out one of his business cards. “Give this to him. Tell him I’d like to take him to dinner to talk.”
“You mean you want to kiss his ass and ride his coattails.”
“Watch yourself.”
He gets to his feet. "Don't screw this up. For either of you."
I watch him leave and toss his card onto the coffee table.
I don’t know if the invitation for Ashton is real or a tactic to get me on board. I put nothing past my father. He’s sneaky and loves to be in control.
But he’s right. I can’t ruin this for Ashton. I know he wants to be in the league. What kind of friend would I be if I ruined his chance? Still, my dad never said we had to go together.
But it was implied.
At practice, I pull Ashton aside before we hit the ice.
"I need to talk to you about something."
"Sounds serious."
"My dad met with the Seattle scout."
"Yeah? How'd it go?"
"They're interested in you, too."
Ashton freezes. "What?"
"For their dev camp. They want to look at you for their system." I force a smile. "Congrats, man."
"Are you serious?" His face lights up. "They want me?"
"Yeah. My dad wants to talk to you about it. He's offering to be your agent."
"Holy shit." Ashton runs his hand through his hair. "I never thought—I mean, I figured after college I'd be hanging up the skates. Maybe coaching high school or something."
"You're good enough for the pros. You always have been."
"This is insane." He's grinning now. "We could do this together. You and me. Like we always talked about when we were kids."
"Yeah." The word feels hollow. "It's great."
"You don't sound excited."
"I am. I just—there's a lot to think about."
"Sutton?"
"Among other things."
Ashton's expression softens. "Man, I know this is complicated. But this is our shot. We have to take it."
"Do we?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean—" I struggle to find the words. "Nothing.”
Ashton stares at me. "Are you seriously considering turning this down?"
"I don't know what I'm considering."
"Declan, this is the NHL. This is what we've worked our entire lives for."
"I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
“Nothing. It’s cool. My dad wants to take you to dinner so he can do his whole spiel.”
“Cool.”
He's already made his decision. He's going.
And he expects me to go with him.
When I get home that evening, I hear laughter coming from the kitchen. Sutton and Keira are apparently making dinner for the house.
There’s flour everywhere. Both of them are covered in it. A pop song is playing from Sutton's phone, and they're singing along off-key about a maneater.
Only a little disturbing.
"Declan!" Sutton lights up when she sees me. "You're home! We're making pizza from scratch. Want to help?"
She’s beautiful. How can I leave her? She lights up my whole world. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true. When I see her, my soul lights up.
Crew appears in the doorway. His eyes land on Keira, and something shifts in his expression.
"Need an extra pair of hands?" he asks, but he's looking at Keira.
"Always," Keira says, smiling at him.
I watch as Crew moves to stand next to her, a little closer than necessary. He makes her laugh with some stupid joke. Keira playfully shoves his shoulder.
Hmm. Didn’t see that coming.
Sutton looks at me and winks.
I push aside all the doubts my father planted.
I’m going to make pizza with my girlfriend.