Chapter 5
Chapter Five
DECLAN
My dad seems determined to drive me absolutely crazy. Does he really think twenty-two texts a day, starting at the crack of dawn, will somehow make me a better player?
No.
But it’s certainly pissing me off.
And to make matters worse, the girls’ team didn’t practice this morning, so our coach decided it was time for two-a-days.
My dad has become relentless, and with each message, I feel the walls closing in a little tighter.
After a brutal practice this morning, I’m lacing up for another round.
"You good?" Ashton asks as we head onto the ice for our afternoon practice. We’re both feeling the strain after two days of the extra ice time.
"Yeah. Fine."
"You don't look fine. You look like you haven't slept in days."
He's not wrong. Every time I close my eyes, I see the same scenario playing out: the scout making an official offer, my dad expecting me to sign immediately, and Sutton's face when she realizes I've been lying to her for weeks.
"Just tired."
He smirks. “Maybe you should try sleeping in your own bed.”
“Trust me, I sleep better with Sutton next to me.”
“Sure you do. The whole house heard you guys sleeping last night.”
“Never say that to her,” I warn. “She would die if she knew.”
He laughs. “I’ll take it to my grave.”
We line up for drills. Usually, practice is where everything makes sense. But today, every drill feels wrong. My timing is off. My passes are sloppy. I'm just not feeling it.
"Hayes! Ease up!" Coach yells after I nearly take Pierce's head off.
"Sorry, Coach."
We move into a scrimmage. This is where I usually shine. But I'm all over the place. Taking stupid risks. There’s a little voice in the back of my mind that knows exactly what I’m doing. I just don’t want to acknowledge it.
Am I really trying to sabotage myself?
That’s crazy.
No one does that.
But you do.
"Hayes, what the hell are you doing?" Ashton snaps after I miss an easy pass, trying to force a shot.
"Making a play."
"That was selfish."
I set up for the next faceoff and win it, but instead of passing to Crew, who's wide open, I try to take it myself. The third defender catches me with a hard check into the boards.
The impact rattles my teeth.
"Hayes!" Coach Davis's whistle pierces the air. "Off the ice. Now."
"Coach, I'm—"
"Now!"
I skate to the bench, my teammates watching. Ashton looks worried. Crew looks confused. Pierce just shakes his head.
Coach follows me off the ice, pulling me toward the tunnel.
"What the hell is going on with you?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"Bullshit. You're playing like a reckless idiot. That's not your game." He crosses his arms. "What's going on?"
For a second, I consider telling him everything.
But I don't.
He’s my coach, and if I get called up to the big leagues, it just makes him look better. And he knows my dad, so he’s probably going to take his side.
"I'm fine, Coach. Just had a rough morning."
He studies me. "You've got two weeks until our first game. Figure out whatever this is. I can't have you playing like this when scouts are watching."
I don’t know if he knows for certain there will be one in particular, but it’s pretty common for scouts to attend games early in the season. They’re looking for talent. It’s not just me.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Hit the showers. Take the rest of practice off."
I nod and head to the locker room, my skates loud on the concrete floor.
My phone is buzzing when I open my bag.
I want to throw it against the wall. Does he really think hounding me is going to make me do better? Does he think the pressure is helpful?
Obviously, he does.
By the time I get home, I'm all wound up. I just want to be alone.
Except Sutton is in the kitchen making a sandwich. She lights up when she sees me.
"Hey! You're home early."
"Coach let me leave early."
"Oh. Want to do something? I don't have work until five."
"I can't. I have studying to do."
"Oh. Okay." She searches my face. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You've seemed off for days."
"I said I'm fine, Sutton."
The sharpness makes her step back. "Sorry for asking."
"No, I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Are you sure? Sometimes talking it out helps."
"Can you just drop it? Please?"
She crosses her arms. "Fine. But you know, we agreed we'd talk about stuff."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you shut me out every time something's bothering you."
"I'm not shutting you out."
"You literally just told me to drop it."
"Because I don't want to talk about it right now!" I don’t mean to shout, but she’s poking a bear. I can feel my frustration ready to boil over.
"Then when? You're being an asshole, and I don't deserve that."
She's right. But I can't tell her the truth.
"I'm sorry. I'm just stressed about the season starting."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah. That's all."
She doesn't look convinced.
That night, I try to study in my room, but I can't focus. The words on the page blur together. My phone keeps buzzing with more texts from my dad. I finally turn it off again and throw it in my drawer.
Around ten, there's a soft knock on my door.
"Come in."
Sutton opens the door, wearing one of my T-shirts and shorts. She looks hesitant, like she's not sure she's welcome.
"Hey."
"Hey." I close my textbook. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to check on you. You've been in here all night."
"Yeah. Just studying."
She sits on the edge of my bed. "Declan, talk to me. Please. Something's wrong. I can feel it."
I want to tell her. God, I want to tell her everything. But the words stick in my throat.
"I'm fine, Sutton. I promise."
"No, you're not. You're barely sleeping—don't think I haven't noticed the dark circles under your eyes or felt how restless you are next to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
She gives me that look. The one that says “bullshit” and pleads with me at the same time.
I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her right now.
"Sutton, please. I appreciate the concern, but I'm handling it."
"Handling what?"
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." I stand up, needing space. "Can we not do this right now?"
"Do what? Try to have a conversation with my boyfriend, who's clearly struggling with something?"
"I'm not struggling."
"You're lying."
The accusation hangs in the air between us.
"I'm not lying. You're being dramatic. Don’t do that. You and I work because you’re chill and easy to be around. Don’t start the interrogation bullshit.”
She flinches. “I’m not interrogating you.”
"Sutton, I said I'm fine! Why can't you just accept that and leave me alone?"
I see the anger flash in her eyes. "Leave you alone?"
"Yes, please. I need space."
"You need space from me?"
"That's not what I said."
"No, I heard you. You want me to leave you alone. Give you space." She stands up. "Fine. Consider yourself alone."
"Sutton, wait—"
But she's already walking out.
I stand there in the middle of my room, my heart pounding, knowing I just screwed up badly but not knowing how to fix it without telling her everything.
Two hours later, the house is quiet. It’s after midnight, but I haven’t slept.
I knock on her door and wait instead of knocking and walking in like I usually do. I’m very aware my open invitation has been revoked.
"Go away."
"Sutton, please."
"I said go away."
"I'm not leaving."
She opens the door but doesn't let me in. Her eyes are red.
I made her cry.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Which part?"
"All of it. You were trying to help, and I threw it back in your face."
"Yeah. You did."
"Can I come in?"
She steps aside. I sit on the edge of her bed while she leans against the door, her arms crossed.
"I'm sorry. I'm dealing with some stuff, and I took it out on you."
"What stuff?"
"School. Hockey. Pressure about the season. I know I've been off lately. I'm sorry."
"Is it about us? If having a relationship is too much extra stuff for you to deal with, just say so. Don’t treat me like shit. Use your words and tell me it’s not the right time."
"What? No. Sutton, you're the only thing keeping me sane right now."
"Then what is it?"
"My dad's been on my ass about my performance last season."
"Your performance was great."
"Yeah, but not good enough for my dad."
She nods slowly. She met him once. It didn't go well.
"Is he giving you a hard time?"
"When is he not?"
She moves to sit beside me, sliding her arm around my waist. "I'm here if you need to talk. Or vent. Or just sit in silence. I promise I won’t bug you. I won’t pester you. I know you hate that. I think that’s a universal guy thing. And it’s a universal girl thing to want to fix you."
I chuckle softly. “You’re not pestering me."
"I'm sorry for pushing."
"Don't apologize. I was the asshole."
"You were kind of an asshole."
"I was a huge asshole."
That gets a smile. "Yeah. You were."
"Forgive me?"
"What's it worth to you?"
"Everything."
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. We sit like that for a while, just breathing together. And I do feel better. I feel like I can breathe.
"Stay with me tonight?" she asks.
"Always."
I climb into her bed, a spot that’s become mine over the last couple of weeks. I lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of every lie I've told.
I have to figure out how to choose between the future everyone expects of me and the girl I can't imagine living without.