Chapter 12
DECLAN
No More Running
Marcus's fists connect with my jaw before I even see it coming.
The locker room erupts into chaos with players shouting and bodies rushing forward, but all I register is the metallic taste of blood and my best friend's face twisted with rage.
"You son of a bitch!" He grabs my jersey, slamming me against the lockers hard enough to rattle my teeth. "I warned you to stay away from her!"
My hands come up instinctively, catching his wrists, but I don't push back. Don't throw the punch my body is screaming to throw.
Because Ivy would never forgive me.
"Marcus..." I start.
But he's beyond listening.
"What were you doing at her apartment?" He shoves me again, his grip tightening on my jersey. "What were you doing alone with her after everything I said?"
The team circles us. Jake moves forward. Tyler isn't far behind, watching with sharp interest. Connor looks distressed. Even Misha has paused his pre-practice ritual to observe with those unsettling eyes.
"Her car broke down," I say, keeping my voice level despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “I gave her a ride home."
"Bullshit. You don't just give someone a ride home, not you." His dark eyes, Ivy's eyes, burn into mine. "You're using her, like you use everyone else."
The accusation stings deep inside more than the punch did.
"That's not what I’m doing."
"Save it." He releases one hand to gesture wildly.
"I know you, Dec. I've watched you cycle through numerous women over the years.
Models, musicians, journalists, actresses, businesswomen, whoever catches your eye for a week.
And now you're targeting my sister? My fucking sister, who's worked her entire life to be taken seriously. "
"I'm not targeting Ivy."
The moment I mention her name, his grip around my shirt tightens.
"Then what are you doing?" The question comes out raw, desperate. "Because all I can see is you doing exactly what I warned you not to do."
The team is dead silent now. None of them is moving toward Marcus and me. They're watching and waiting to hear what I'll say.
I could lie.
Should lie.
Should make up some excuse about being a good teammate and a worthy, reliable best friend who was helping a colleague. But I'm so damned tired of lying.
"I didn't take Ivy home only because I wanted to help," I confess, my eyes meeting his in challenge.
His face darkens further, eyes glaring
"I’m attracted to her."
He flinches. His expression shifts from rage to betrayal.
"You what?"
"I’m attracted to Ivy." The admission tears out of me, weeks of hiding and pretending, crumbling in seconds. "And before you hit me again, yes, I know she's your sister. Yes, I know my reputation that I'm the last person who should..."
His fist catches me in the ribs this time.
I double over, breath exploding from my lungs. The pain is sharp and immediate, but I still don't fight back. Can't fight back.
"She's not one of your puck bunnies!" he roars. "She's brilliant, driven, and deserves someone who sees her as more than a conquest."
"I know that," I wheeze, straightening despite my screaming ribs.
"You don't. You're doing what you always do, taking what you want and destroying it in the process."
His hand curls into a fist. He pulls it back to give me another punch. Jake's hand catches it as he steps between Marcus and me.
"That's enough."
"The hell it is, Jax!"
Marcus tries to push past him.
"I said, enough!"
The sharpness of Jake’s command stops Marcus cold.
"Declan, back up. Marcus, take a walk. Now."
"Jax..."
"Now, Chandler."
Misha and Tyler move in, physically steering Marcus toward the door. He fights for a second, eyes locked on mine, promising violence. Coach Petrov appears in the doorway with a stormy expression.
"What the hell was that?"
No one answers.
"Hawthorne. Chandler. If I see anything like this again, you're both suspended. Clear?"
"Yes, Coach," I manage, tasting copper.
He storms off, muttering in a mix of English and Russian about having a team of children. Jake turns to me, his dark eyes assessing.
"Are you okay?"
I probe my jaw carefully. It's not broken, but it will bruise. My ribs scream with every breath, but nothing feels cracked.
"I'm fine, Jax."
"That was stupid."
"Probably."
"You planning to tell me what's going on? And don't say nothing, because that didn't look like nothing."
I exhale.
"I've not started yet, but I'm going to date Ivy, and Marcus has caught on."
He studies me for a long moment. "Is she worth it?"
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Dr. Chandler. Is she worth losing your best friend over?"
I think about Ivy's laugh, her brilliant mind. The way she looks at me like she can't take another breath without me. The texts from King that make her open up in ways she never does in person. The kiss that tasted like coming home.
"Yeah," I hear myself say. "She's worth every damn bit of it."
Jake nods slowly, like that's exactly what he expected.
"Then you better figure out how to fix this because a team divided doesn't win championships."
He walks away. Connor, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, follows him out. But although there's blood in my mouth, there's certainty in my chest that I want her, need her.
And I'm going to see her.
Now.
It takes a while to clean up until I look passable and then walk through the pain to Ivy's office tucked in the back of the facility.
I creak the door of the converted office space open to find her hunched over her laptop, straight hair falling forward to hide her face and her signature oversized cardigan drowning her petite frame.
She's absolutely beautiful. Elegant. Captivating. And so many other things if you know how to look.
And I've learned how to look.
"Ivy."
She jumps, spinning in her chair. Those warm brown eyes widen when they see me. They land on my split lips, the bruise already forming on my jaw, the way I'm favoring my right side.
She stands and rushes toward me.
"What happened? Did you get hit during practice?"
"Something like that."
Her fingers come near my jaw.
"This needs ice, and you're holding your ribs wrong. Did someone check for breaks?"
"Not yet."
"Sit." She points to the exam table against the wall.
I obey, watching as she transforms into Dr. Chandler, competent and in complete control. She pulls gloves from a box and gathers ice packs, moving in a way that I find insanely attractive.
But watching Ivy work has always done things to me.
"This is going to hurt,' she warns, pressing gently along my ribs.
I hiss through my teeth. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. You might have a fracture." Her brows furrow in concentration. "What happened?"
"Marcus."
Her hands still. "Marcus?"
"He found out I stepped into your house last night and objected enthusiastically."
Her jaw drops in horror, her hands holding her cheeks. She leans away.
"I shouldn't have invited you in."
I catch her wrist, pulling her back within reach.
"This isn't your fault. Marcus is scared. I get it."
"You get it? He assaulted you."
"He threw a couple of punches because he thinks I'm going to hurt you." My thumb traces circles on her pulse point, feeling her heartbeat spike. "And he's not wrong to worry. My track record isn't great."
"Then why are you here?" Her voice comes out breathless, uncertain. "Why risk making it worse?"
"Because I have feelings for you."
I tug her closer until she's standing between my knees. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Her scent mixed with the fragrance of her floral perfume and shampoo makes me inhale deeply. My thumb keeps rubbing her wrist, moving upward to her palm.
"And I think you feel the same."
"Declan..."
"Tell me I'm wrong." My other hand settles on her hip. "Tell me you don't think about that kiss or you don't want this. And not just some bullshit about your body reacting to mine."
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her cheeks flush that beautiful pink I enjoy seeing.
"I can't," she whispers.
"Can't what?"
"Can't tell you you're wrong." Her hands tentatively rest on my shoulders. "But I also can't... there's King, my research, Marcus, and..."
"I know." I pull her closer until her legs press against the exam table and she's forced to grip my shoulders for balance. "But that one-month offer still stands. No expectations. Just you and me figuring this out."
Her eyes land on my lips, giving it that piercing stare of yesterday that made me almost kiss her until she was lying naked under me.
"Just to learn," she says, voice wavering, "and practice."
Those warm brown eyes look up, gazing into mine. We stare at each other, the air between us cracking with tension. She finally nods.
"One month."
"One month," I reply.
"And then..."
I don't let her finish.
I pull her down and kiss her like I've been dying to since the moment she walked into that therapy room. Like I've been starving for her and she's the only thing that can satisfy. Like she's mine and I'm hers and nothing else matters.
She gasps against my mouth. I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss with single-minded focus. My hands slide up her back, pulling her closer, eliminating any space between us.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling slightly. The sharp pain makes me groan.
I kiss along her jaw and down her throat, finding the spot where her pulse hammers wildly.
'Declan...." My name sounds wrecked on her lips.
"Say it again."
"Declan." Breathy, Desperate.
I capture her mouth again, slower this time but more thorough. Memorizing the way she responds, cataloging every gasp and shiver, teaching her body to crave mine. Making sure that when she thinks about kissing, wanting, and desire, she thinks of only me.
Not King. Not some safe, intellectual fantasy.
Me.
Her hands slide under my shirt, cool fingers against heated skin, and I nearly lose my mind.
I stand up and pull her flush against my skin. The kiss turns frantic, hungry. We stumble backward. Something crashes, an equipment I should care about but don't.
All that matters is Ivy arching against me, making sounds that will haunt my dreams, kissing me back like she's finally stopped fighting what we both want.
I pull back just enough to speak, my forehead resting against hers, both of us breathing hard.
"Tell me you feel that."
Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from my kiss.
"I feel it. Gosh, I feel it."
"Good." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, watching her shiver. "Because for the next month, you're fucking mine. We figure this out together. No more running."
"No more... running," she echoes, but there's hesitation in her voice. Fear.
I kiss her again, softer this time. Reassuring.
"I've got you. I promise."
She nods against my mouth, and satisfaction clicks into place in my chest. This is right. She is right.
Now I just have to figure out how to tell her I'm also King before she figures it out herself.
We hold each other for a while until she steps back.
“Your jaw,” she says, placing those soft hands on my cheeks. “I need to…”
I place my hands on hers, my mind registering the throbbing ache from Marcus’s punch. But it can’t be compared to the warm feeling growing in me. I stare into Ivy’s eyes.
“I’ll go to the doctor.”
Then I peck her forehead and walk out of her office.
The parking garage is dark when I finally leave the facility. Practice ran long after the fight with Marcus, Coach making us skate drills until everyone was too exhausted to throw punches. Marcus avoided me entirely, which is probably for the best.
My ribs are screaming, jaw throbbing, and all I want to do is go home and text Ivy as both versions of myself.
"Declan."
I turn to see Gregory leaning against a concrete pillar, unsettling eyes assessing me. He gestures to my face.
"Rough day?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
He pushes off the pillar and moves closer.
"I heard about your altercation with Chandler. Care to explain what that was about?"
"It's a personal matter."
"Personal matters that result in locker room brawls become team matters, and team matters become my matter." He steps into my space, a power play I refuse to acknowledge. "So, I'll ask again. What was the fight about?"
"Like I said, it's personal."
His eyes narrow. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Marcus's sister, the researcher I told you to stay away from?"
Ice floods my veins, but I keep my face blank.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I've known you since you were nineteen years old, Declan."
"I'm not..."
"I have access to your schedules, finances. Your communications." He pauses deliberately. "I know your whereabouts last night when you drove Dr. Chandler home from the facility."
The surveillance shouldn't surprise me. Gregory has always been controlling. But hearing him admit his monitoring so casually makes my hands curl into fists.
"You're tracking me."
"I'm protecting my investment. There's a difference." He straightens his cuffs. "Senator Ashford is pleased with your relationship with his daughter."
I frown. Are they now calling that facade a relationship?
"Endorsement deals are being discussed and will soon be closed. Your image is finally clean."
"My image was never dirty."
"It was horrible. Now, it's not." His voice hardens. "And I won't allow you to compromise that by pursuing an inappropriate relationship with a researcher who happens to be your teammate's sister. The optics alone..."
"I don't give a fuck about optics."
"Then you're a fool." He leans in, voice dropping dangerously low. "You have clauses in your contracts, endorsement agreements that can be terminated if you're perceived as—how did they phrase it?—engaging in conduct detrimental to your professional image."
"That’s not what this is."
"It's exactly what you and Dr. Chandler are doing.
And if you continue to tow this path, I'll have no choice but to invoke those clauses.
" He smiles coldly, victory dancing in his eyes.
"Walk away from the girl, Declan. Stay with Evangeline for the cameras to keep your career intact. It's simple mathematics."
"And if I don't?"
An evil chuckle emits from his lips, then stops abruptly. He sneers.
"Then I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of man Declan Hawthorne really is, starting with your financial irregularities."
My blood runs cold. "What financial irregularities?"
"We can always find one if we look hard enough." His lips curl into a smile. His eyes remain dead cold. "Think carefully about your next move because you have a lot to lose."
He walks away, the sound of his footsteps on the concrete grating my nerves.
My fists uncurl and curl back again. I have no financial irregularities.
Gregory is threatening to fabricate financial crimes. To destroy my career, my reputation, my life.
Unless I abandon Ivy.
I won't.