Chapter 33 Maggie
MAGGIE
Everything has fallen apart.
My parents remind me of that fact when they call to ask about Declan and me.
When I see the photos and articles they manufactured with headlines like Pro ballplayer on probation but still playing the field and Leading ball player leading women on.
Beneath it are images of Declan and me together, as well as him and Blair.
It’s made to look like there’s a love triangle and he’s passed me over.
As always, I’m the loser. In the article, they portray him as a womanizing jerk.
Blair steals the spotlight. It’ll ruin Declan’s career and likely affect his teammates.
Guilt forms in the pit of my stomach, but I’m not sure how to fix any of it.
It’s too late for Declan and me because as soon as his time in the Blancbourg program is over, never mind returning to friends who text, he’ll probably want to forget about me.
More than anything, I don’t want to be the cause of him losing his job and his passion, football—the thing he’s worked so hard to achieve.
On top of that, Aunt Maureen passed away and Declan is understandably distraught, coming apart at the seams.
I stay a few nights at the townhouse, but figure it’s time to book a room at a hotel and then head back to Florida. No doubt I lost my job.
Every time my phone beeps, I expect Cateline to announce that I’m fired.
The questions I’d asked myself when leaving the States circle my thoughts once more. Who am I? What do I want? I’m not a princess in title, but I want to rescue myself and figure out a way to stop living paycheck to paycheck.
I’ve failed and am going to end up right where I started.
I’m so far from my mobile cupcake shop dreams, it’s laughable.
More than anything, I want to make people happy because that makes me happy.
My parents always threw high-end events but excluded me.
Long ago, I decided if they were going to miss my birthdays and other special occasions, I’d start celebrating official days because every day should be joyful.
I helped myself once, I could do it again. Right?
While I pack my belongings, shouting comes from the other room.
“I did not break the playbook rules. That image was not what you think. I did no such thing. I wouldn’t. You know what I value.” This is followed by stomping. Then a door slams. A few moments later, Declan’s voice rumbles from the kitchen, “Coach, please listen...”
My stomach sinks, swims with guilt. Not only will I lose my best friend, but he’s also about to lose his career and everything he’s worked for.
It’s time to make some phone calls of my own.
First, I dial my father, who is only slightly more responsive than my mother.
No answer. I leave a message and then try Sheila—yes, she prefers I call her by her first name.
I reach voicemail. It could be weeks or months before they respond, given they’ve missed my birthday of all things.
But I have to stand up to them. Tell them how I feel, how they’ve hurt me, and demand that they remove anything from the internet that they posted about Declan.
I have to do this now, so I open up an email and pour out my heart, telling them how they’d hurt me. I copy them and their assistants on it.
Afterward, I plunk down on the bed, struggling to figure out a way to make things right. An idea pops into my mind.
Silence replaces the rise and fall of Declan’s voice from the kitchen. I find him seated at the table, chin in his hands, and gazing at the harbor. His phone is by his elbow and the screen dark.
With a flat chuckle, he says, “I have a yacht. Would it be so bad to prepare it for departure, leave all of this, and just sail into the sunset?”
“You might get lonely,” I say.
“I wouldn’t if you were there.” He grasps for me, but I’m just out of reach. No sense in making things worse and giving in to the yearning only to have it taken away.
Instead, I sit down beside him. “Declan, you know that we can only be friends. Our lives are too different. And the truth is, now that you know about my past, you understand why I don’t want any part of the limelight.
Can you imagine what my parents would do if we were together? They’d have a field day.”
He levels me with a gaze. “You can’t exist in the limbo of wanting their attention and fearing it.”
My face falls slack and I lean back. He’s right, but I don’t like it and don’t know how to change it.
“And if we were together, things would be different,” he says softly. He tries to meet my eyes.
If I do, I’ll give in, captivated, magnetized, charmed by him. “Would things be different, though? Last I checked, Declan Printz, wide receiver for the Bruisers, is very much in the spotlight, and from what I’ve seen, he likes it.”
Hands on hips, he turns and paces in front of the window, now looking anywhere but at me. I discreetly make my move, exchanging his phone for mine, but this time, on purpose.
My voice small and tentative, I say, “Declan, I think it’s best we just go back to being friends.” At that, I hurry from the kitchen.
Back in my room, I close the door and immediately find the number I’m looking for at the top of Declan’s favorite contacts. My Oh Mags is there too.
I press call and hope I have plenty of time to say what I need to before Declan realizes I have his phone.
A gruff voice answers on the third ring.
“Hi, Coach Hammer?”
“This isn’t Declan. Who is this?” the coach demands.
“I’m Maggie. His other coach from Blancbourg. I stole his phone.”
The coach blusters, quick to admonish me, but I explain the situation. “No, he didn’t put me up to this. In the past month, he’s gone from being a rascal, as his aunt would’ve said, to a fine gentleman and a man I’d be proud to have on my team.”
Hammer asks about the photographs and I tell him who my parents are, what they did, and how it’s true that his wide receiver and I are close. “It’s one of those best friends turned to the potential for something more scenarios.”
“Yeah, my wife watches Hallmark movies and reads books like that. Not my favorite trope, but it makes her happy.”
“Declan has been my best friend since high school. I didn’t know much about his past before that, but I know that he’s a good person even though he shows the world his bad-boy side.
I arranged the meeting with Blair because I wanted him to have the opportunity to share the truth, possibly clear his name after the moon-gate scandal.
Apparently, Blair had other ideas, resulting in what looked like Declan breaking the rule you set about dating while at reform school.
I should’ve vetted her better. For that, I apologize.
The truth is, Declan and I do have feelings for each other and that may have broken your rules. ”
The line is quiet for a moment. “Well, Miss Byrne, I appreciate your honesty.”
Guilt bites into me because I wasn’t always honest with Declan—that I’d switched our phones is a point of fact.
I also haven’t been entirely honest with myself.
I really, truly have feelings for my best friend, but once out from under the thumb of probation from his coach, I don’t know if we can take it to the next level.
Can I live with his life in the limelight?
“Also, you’ll note that all of my reviews were entirely positive. There was no bias, just observation.”
“That kid can be a charmer,” Coach Hammer says.
“I’m well aware.” I add that he maintained a positive character while facing difficulties from his past and his aunt’s sickness and death. “It’s been a challenging month.”
“Printz has a habit of getting in his own way, but thank you again for clearing things up. You should probably give him his phone back now.”
Relieved that the conversation seemed to placate the coach, I let out a long breath when we get off the phone.
I return to the kitchen to switch the phones back, but Declan isn’t here. I glance out to the harbor and I hope he didn’t sail away.