Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
DECLAN
We slide into my bed together. I know I should sleep, but I can’t.
Sutton’s fingers brush across my chest. "That was... intense."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "That's my dad. Intensity is kind of his thing."
"He really put you on blast in there."
"Yeah, well. That's also his thing." I run my hand through her hair. "Sorry you had to witness that."
"Don't apologize. It's not your fault your dad's an asshole."
That surprises a laugh out of me. "You can't say that about my dad."
"Why not? He is. The way he talked about you, like you were some kind of disappointment? You're amazing, Declan. You're one of the best players in the league, but he acted like you're constantly screwing up."
"In his eyes, I am. I failed him. I should have been drafted at eighteen. Should be in the NHL by now. Every choice I've made has been wrong, according to him. He had big dreams, and I screwed them up."
“If he wanted to play in the NHL, he should have done it. He doesn’t get to live the life he wanted through you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he sees it like that.”
“I didn’t know you suffered a shoulder injury. That’s rough.”
My stomach tightens. "Yeah."
"What happened?"
"I made a mistake. Got injured. Lost the opportunity." I keep my voice carefully neutral.
"What kind of mistake?"
"Does it matter?"
"I'm just trying to understand." She shifts closer. "He made it sound like it was your fault. Like you lost focus or something."
"I separated my shoulder. Happens in hockey."
“Ashton said it wasn’t your fault.”
"I slipped, fell wrong, and landed on it badly."
The silence that follows is deafening.
"You slipped," she repeats slowly.
"Yeah."
"And fell."
"That's what I said."
"Declan." She turns to face me fully. "You don't slip. I've watched you play for years. You're the most sure-footed player on the ice. You have better balance than anyone I know."
"Everyone slips sometimes."
"Not you." Her eyes search my face. "What really happened?"
"That is what really happened."
She goes quiet. “Okay. Screw the family legacy. You're your own person."
I appreciate her letting it go.
“Your dad is great. I was nervous about seeing him again."
"He likes you, too. I could tell."
"Even after I broke his daughter's heart in our freshman year?"
"I explained the situation. He knows it was complicated. I told him I trust you. We’re big kids now. We can talk about things.”
The guilt is instant and crushing. She's trying to trust me while I'm keeping the biggest secret of my life from her.
"Are you ready?” I ask. “The first game as captain must be nerve-wracking."
The women’s team plays in the afternoon, and then we have the evening slot. It’s a big day all around.
She shrugs. "I'm more excited than nervous. I've been waiting all summer for this."
"You're going to be amazing."
"I hope so. But honestly?" She grins. "I play hockey for fun. It's not my career. After this season, I'm done."
"Done? Like, you're never playing again?"
"Probably not competitively. Maybe I'll join a rec league or something. But yeah, after May, I'm hanging up my skates and focusing on my real career."
“Real career,” I murmur.
“Hockey is what I do because I love it. But my real career is the lab. Forensics. That's what actually matters to me long-term."
“Do you not enjoy it?”
"It's important right now when I’m young and have no responsibilities.
I love it. But it's not my whole life. The stakes are way lower for me.
" She nudges me playfully. "If I have a bad game tomorrow, sure, I'll be disappointed.
But it's not going to determine my future.
I've already got my job lined up. Hockey is just the fun part of senior year. "
I stare at her, trying to process this. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is simple. Hockey is a game. My real life starts after graduation.”
"I can't imagine thinking about hockey that way."
"That's because you're going pro. For you, it is a career. But for most of us? It's just something we're good at that we enjoy doing. When it stops being fun, we stop playing."
The difference between us has never been clearer. For her, hockey is temporary. Expendable. Something she can walk away from without a second thought.
For me, it's everything. My identity. My future. The thing my entire life has been working toward.
"Do you ever wish you could go pro?" I ask. “They just started a women’s league.”
"No. Never." She doesn't even hesitate. "I want to wake up in the same place every day.
I want a job where I'm making a real impact, not just entertaining people.
I want a life that's mine, not dictated by a travel schedule and a team's needs.
" She squeezes my hand. "No offense to your career choice. "
"None taken. That actually sounds really nice."
"What does?"
"Having control over your life. Not having every decision dictated by the game."
She looks at me carefully. "Is that what you want?"
Yes. God, yes. I want exactly what she just described.
"I don't know what I want anymore," I say honestly. "I used to think I knew. Play hockey, make it to the NHL, and make my dad proud. But lately..."
"Lately what?"
"Lately, I'm not sure if I want those things or if I just think I'm supposed to want them."
Her fingers continue their tantalizing dance over my chest. "What do you want, Declan? If hockey wasn't part of the equation. If your dad's expectations weren't part of it. What would you want?"
You. I want you.
I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to build a life that we choose together. I want to coach Little League, come home for dinner, and never miss a birthday.
But I can't say that because in less than twenty-four hours, a scout is going to be sitting in the stands, and everything my dad has planned for me is going to become real.
"I want to be happy," I say finally. "Whatever that looks like."
"That's a good start." She kisses me softly. "You deserve to be happy, Declan. Not what your dad thinks happy should look like. Actually happy."
"What if I don't know the difference anymore?"
“You’ll figure it out.”
I look at her—this girl who has her entire life mapped out, who knows exactly what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it—and I realize how incredibly screwed I am.
Because I'm falling in love with someone whose dreams are completely incompatible with mine. She wants to stay. I'm expected to leave. She's ready to walk away from hockey. I'm supposed to dedicate my life to it.