28. DECLAN
DECLAN
Career on the Line
The penthouse feels like a tomb.
I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city lights blur through the glass. My phone sits on the counter behind me, screen dark. No calls from the team. No texts from teammates. Just thick and suffocating silence.
Three endorsement deals canceled in one day. My new agent left a voicemail I haven't listened to yet. The tone was enough.
It's over.
Or it will be soon.
My phone buzzes. Walking to it, I see Riley's name flashing on the screen. I let it go to voicemail. She and Rowan have called several times. I sent them both home two hours ago when they showed up crying, asking how bad the financial fallout would be.
I lied and told them everything would be fine.
The truth is I have no idea if anything will be fine again.
The door buzzes. I ignore it. Riley and Rowan have their own keys. Anyone else can leave.
It buzzes again. Longer this time. Insistent.
I cross the hardwood floor on bare feet, my reflection catching in the darkened TV screen. I look like hell with an overgrown stubble, wrinkled shirt, and hair that hasn't seen a comb since the press conference.
The intercom crackles. "Declan, it's Marcus. Let me up."
My hand freezes on the button. Marcus has been antagonistic since the locker room fight when I told him I was going to pursue Ivy anyway.
I press the button.
The elevator takes forever. When the doors open, Marcus steps out looking exhausted. His brown eyes are bloodshot, his jaw tight. He's still in practice gear, like he came straight from the facility.
We stare at each other for a long moment.
"You look like hell."
"Thanks for the update."
He moves into the living room, taking in the empty takeout containers, the laptop still open to news coverage, the legal documents scattered across the coffee table.
“Riley called me,” he says. "She said you weren't answering your phone.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then why did you send her and Rowan away?"
"They don't need to see this."
"See what? You falling apart?"
"See me losing everything I built for them." The words taste bitter. "See the career that paid for their education and our parents' funeral and everything else turn into a lawsuit and a scandal."
He crosses his arms. "They're not kids anymore, Dec. They can handle it."
"They shouldn't have to."
"Neither should you. But here we are."
The silence stretches. Marcus moves to the window, staring out at the same view I've been watching for hours. The city glitters below us, indifferent and impersonal.
"I watched the press conference twice," he says quietly.
"And?"
"And you're either the bravest man I know or the stupidest."
Despite everything, a laugh escapes. "Probably both."
"Definitely both." He turns to face me. “Ivy watched it too.”
My heart kicks. "She told you that?"
"Yeah, when I called her."
"What else did she say?"
"She's terrified you'll resent her when your career is over. But she watched every second of that press conference, Dec. She knows what you did."
Heaviness settles in my chest. Ivy watched, yet she's still terrified. I can't blame her for that.
"The league announced a formal investigation into Gregory’s agent practices and the fabricated video," Marcus continues. "But your suspension might last months. Teams don't want controversy. Even if they clear you, the damage might be permanent."
"I know."
He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face.
"I'm not sure you understand what you just did. You're twenty-eight, Dec, and at the prime of your career. Yet you walked away from it for Ivy. For whatever principle you decided mattered more than hockey."
"It mattered more."
"I know. That's why I'm here,” he says, voice softening unexpectedly. He stares at his hands. “I came to say I was wrong about you and Ivy and treating you like a threat instead of my best friend."
The words surprise me. "Marcus…"
"Please, let me finish." He looks up. There's genuine regret in his brown eyes. "I treated you like a threat to my little sister instead of the guy who helped me through my injury rehab. Who's been there for every important moment of my life."
My throat tightens. "You were protecting her."
“Yes. And I don’t regret it. But I should have handled things better.
” He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.
“Ivy needs support more than she needs protection.
And you, despite being a manipulative liar for months, finally gave her that.
You cleared her name. You exposed the man who destroyed her reputation.
You sacrificed your career to give her justice.
That's not the action of a player. That's the action of someone who genuinely loves her. "
"For whatever that's worth now."
"It's worth something." His hand claps my shoulder. "Maybe not to Ivy. But it's worth something."
He pulls me into a brief, fierce hug. The kind we used to do after big wins.
We sit in silence for a while.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For coming here and not giving up on me."
"You're my best friend. I don’t give up on my people." He takes a drink from the fridge and pops it open. "But Dec, you need to prepare yourself. Your hearing is in two weeks. Even if you win, your career might be over. You could lose everything and gain nothing."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
I think about Ivy's face when I saw her last. The devastation in her brown eyes. The way her hands shook. I think about the nine years I spent letting Gregory control me by performing instead of living, hiding instead of being real.
"Yeah," I say finally. "I'm okay with it."
Marcus nods slowly. "Then you'll get through this. Whatever happens at that hearing, whatever Ivy decides, you'll survive."
He leaves, and the penthouse falls silent again.
My phone rings. It’s from Patricia. I answer.
"Declan, we need to discuss the hearing strategy."
"Alright."
"The NHL scheduled it for two weeks out. They'll review all evidence, yours and Gregory's, to determine whether charges against you have merit and whether you're reinstated or permanently banned.”
Two weeks. That’s fourteen days to determine whether I have a career left.
"What are our chances?"
"Decent if Evangeline's testimony holds. Better if we can get other victims of Gregory's manipulation to come forward. But Gregory's lawyers are good. They'll argue you're retaliating after breaching your contract, that you fabricated evidence out of spite."
"The evidence isn't fabricated."
"I know. But proving it in a league hearing is different from proving it in public opinion." She pauses. "I want to ask Dr. Chandler to testify as a character witness. Her reputation's been restored and her research is being reinstated. If she speaks to the investigation into her work…"
"No."
"Declan…"
"I'm not dragging Ivy back into this spotlight unless she chooses it herself. She's been through enough because of me. I won't ask her to testify on my behalf after what I did."
"Her testimony about the fabricated video would strengthen our case significantly."
“Then we fight without it,” I say, voice hardening. "Ivy deserves the choice. If she wants to help, she'll reach out. If not, we move forward anyway."
Patricia sighs. "You're making this unnecessarily difficult."
"Probably. But I'm done making decisions for Ivy. Even ones that might help me."
"You're a frustrating client."
"So I've been told."
“Just ask her once, Declan. You don’t have to sacrifice your career to prove your love to Ivy. If she doesn’t accept, that’s fine. But what if she does? And what if that’s what helps you keep your career. Remember you have your siblings to take care of.”
She ends the call.
Trying my best not to think about Patricia’s words, I pull my laptop toward me and open a blank document. I’m just going to write it down then delete it. That’s all. My fingers hover over the keys before I start typing:
Ivy,
I'm writing this knowing I'll never send it. But I need to put these words somewhere.
I delete it then start again.
Ivy,
Thank you for watching the press conference. Marcus told me you did. I don't know what you thought, if it changed anything, if you're still angry. All of that is your right.
The NHL is holding a hearing in two weeks. My lawyer wants you to testify about the fabricated video. I told her no. You don't owe me anything. If you want to help, that's your choice. If you don't, I understand completely.
I'm probably losing everything. My career. The endorsements. Maybe my freedom if Gregory's lawyers are creative enough with those fraud charges. And I'm at peace with that. Not happy, but at peace.
Because for the first time in nine years, I'm not hiding or performing. I'm not letting fear control my choices.
I love you. I'll always love you. I hope your research changes how teams handle concussions. I hope you save lives.
Declan
I read it twice, then save the letter.
But then Patricia’s words keep ringing in my head. I need to take care of Riley and Rowan. Before I can stop myself, I’ve created a new email and sent the letter to Ivy.
Now its up to her. And whatever she decides, I’ll still love her.
My phone buzzes with news alerts.
“NHL Announces Emergency Hearing. Hawthorne's Career in Jeopardy.”
“Four More Endorsement Deals Terminate Contracts with Suspended Star.”
“Gregory Stallworth's Lawyer: "This is Desperate Retaliation by a Disgraced Player.”
I should feel panic. Rage.
Instead, I just feel exhausted and strangely calm.
Because for the first time in nine years, I'm not hiding behind a persona Gregory created. I'm not performing for cameras or protecting an image that was never real. I'm just me, flawed and honest and facing the consequences of my choices.
My career might be ending, but at least it's ending with integrity.
If I lose everything, at least I lose it honestly.