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declan

“It’s a Sunday night game,” Diego says.

“Are you talking to yourself?” I ask him, unsure why he’s telling me that the game we’re playing against New York tonight is on a Sunday. Like I don’t know what day it is or that I get to see Willa tonight.

“It means you’re competing with Sunday Night Football.”

“So? What do you want me to do about it? Land a perfect triple axel in the middle of a breakaway?”

Ben snickers from where he’s sitting on his bed and pretending not to listen. Diego is leaning against the hotel desk and glaring at me. He’s the one speaking in riddles, so I don’t know how I’m the one to be mad at right now.

“Your coach has been holding everyone back. Insisting you need time to figure it out,” Diego says, pulling at his usually perfectly styled hair. “So they’re on my ass instead. I’m getting calls and emails from the team’s PR and social media departments. Hell, I even got an email from one of the owners this morning.”

“Why is everyone so interested in my wife? None of the other guys have to parade their wives around for the media.” As far as I can tell, no one knows I’m married. People are just speculating about who the woman was at the San Diego game. Even then, that’s died down because Willa hasn’t been to a game since that one.

“The media know who their wives are. They never kept them a secret. You two wanting privacy has inadvertently caused a clusterfuck for your team,” Diego says and Ben snorts.

“Dude, what do I do?” I ask Ben.

“Make the Bruisers’ media team earn their money.”

I laugh and point at Ben while staring at Diego. “I like that answer.”

Diego lets out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you want people to know who you’re married to? She’s. . . her, ” he says, his eyes doing the far-off thing it does whenever he gets all starstruck about Willa.

“I really hate when you get weird like that. She’s my wife. Not yours.”

“And yet, no one knows that.”

“Can we circle back to this after the holidays? I haven’t slept in the same bed as my wife in seven fucking weeks, Diego. I refuse to have the first thing I say to her be about strangers wanting a look into our lives. It’s honestly frustrating that I even have to have this conversation.”

“I agree with that,” Ben adds. “Privacy isn’t a crime.”

“Thank you.” I gesture to Ben with a see motion.

“Declan not keeping his private life private was the problem in the first place,” Ben adds.

“Hey!” I complain.

“Speaking of that,” Diego says. “Bethany was at the San Diego game.”

“So?”

“Rumor is she wasn’t happy about your actions and cried to daddy. I guess she thought you two would have some romantic reunion.”

I groan into my hands.

“Coming forward as a married man with happy pictures of you and your wife would be the easiest way to get her to back off.”

“I hate you,” I mutter to my dick.

“I’ll do a photoshoot for you once you figure it out,” Ben offers.

“Thanks, Benny boy.”

“So you’ll go public?” Diego asks, his face annoyingly hopeful.

Do I want to claim Willa publicly? Hell yes I do. But I want to do it when she’s really mine.

“Go away, Diego. I’m not talking about this until I’m ready.”

Diego curses under his breath but leaves like I asked.

“Is Bethany going to be a problem?” Ben asks me once the door shuts behind Diego.

“She might try, but I’m married. The owners of the Bruisers are aware of that. So even if her dad tries to complain to them, they know I’m not with her.”

“Let me know when you want that photoshoot. I have a feeling you’re going to need it,” Ben says, getting up and gathering his equipment.

“Can you get a shot of her watching me play tonight?” I ask as I follow him out.

“Where is she sitting?”

“The wrong side again, probably. Maggie is in some season ticket exchange group. So the seats she gets for the two of them are in the home team section.” Neither of the girls liked the tickets Gideon and I could get for them. They weren’t close enough.

“I’ll try, but that’s the side of the ice I’ll be on too. It’ll likely be the back of her head.”

“She’ll be the one in the middle of a bunch of New York fans wearing my jersey.”

Ben laughs. “Hard to miss.”

“See you on the bus,” I call to him. He waves as he heads for the ice to scope out his angles, and I go in the opposite direction to the locker room.

I’ll see her tonight and then in three days, I’ll ask her to be mine.

New York is out for blood. They’re playing like we’re on game seven of the Stanley Cup finals. Not a regular season game in November. A normal season goes well into April. June if you make it all the way. There’s no reason for them to be playing like this so early in the season.

Willa has been screaming at the refs and players both. Even Maggie, who usually watches happily, is angrily shaking her fists. The crowd seems split. We’re on their home ice so the cheers for them should be louder, but even their fans seem confused.

“There’s a target on your back,” Bouchard says to me. We’re in the locker room between the second and third period while they flood the ice.

“I don’t know what the fuck for.”

“Maybe they saw the San Diego game and knew because your wife is here, you’re going to play better,” Gideon says. His blond hair is sticking up in all directions from the sweat and his helmet. He looks almost wild.

“That’s crazy. Like actually crazy. I wasn’t even the one who scored the winning goal for that game. They should be after you,” I point out.

They are after me, for whatever reason. I’ve been thrown into the boards more times tonight than my entire high school career combined. And that was a lot because I liked to instigate back then.

I groan when I lean over to retie my skates. My whole body hurts. My knees want to give up. Part of me wants to let them win so the beating can be over.

“We just need to hold them off. We’re up one nothing. Normally that kind of lead wouldn’t be good enough, but I don’t want you boys hurt and that’s what will happen,” Coach says. He turns to me. “Monroe, I think you need to be pulled.”

I flinch, even though I know it’s not because of how I’m playing. No one wants to hear they’re being benched.

“I want to stay dressed and on the bench in case I need to go back in.”

Coach looks at my knees where a trainer has taped bags of ice to each one. “We have a real chance of taking the cup this year, Declan. But not if you’re out on injury for half the season.”

I sigh and drop my head into my hands. “Yes. Coach,” I mumble between my fingers. It’s not worth fighting him on tonight.

“Text Willa and have her come back and sit with you,” Gideon says once Coach is out of earshot. “You’ll get to spend more time with her,” he says, and winks.

I wish my team good luck as they file out of the locker room. I hit the showers quickly and then text Willa.

I’m benched. Come back to the locker room?

Princess

What the hell did you do to get benched?

Come talk to me.

“I was already on my way back here when you didn’t come out of the tunnel.”

I look up at her. Her cheeks are red either from the cold of the rink or how angry she was watching the game, but her eyes sparkle when they meet mine. She’s fucking beautiful.

“Hi, Princess.”

She walks over to me and kneels in front of where I’m sitting, taking over taping the ice back on my knees. I shift a little to hide how hard the sight of her on her knees for me instantly made me.

“What happened, hockey boy?” she asks, taking a seat next to me on the bench.

“Coach didn’t want to risk New York successfully taking me out.”

“Why are they after you? You barely played them when you were with San Diego.”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

Willa wraps her arms around my waist. The game is playing on a TV across from us. There’s no sound, but we can still watch the third period play out from here.

“You look a little silly wearing a suit with ice taped to your knees,” she says, breaking the silence.

“I would tape ice to my whole body right now if I could,” I admit.

She tries to pull away, but I hold her tight. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not. You’re making me feel better,” I say, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“They’re not doing it anymore,” she says, pointing to the TV.

I watch a few plays. She’s right. I’m not there to target anymore and now they’re playing a much less dirty game.

“I really was the target. I don’t understand.”

“Does Bethany have any connections here?” Willa asks.

I shrug. “Probably, but she would have connections with other teams, too, and this is the first time it’s happened.”

“You need to be careful.”

“You worried about me, Princess?” I smile at her, but she frowns.

“Yes, Declan. I would die if anything happened to you.” She looks so distraught that I pull her into my lap and hold her as tightly as I can without hurting her.

“Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” she mumbles against my chest.

“The game is almost over, and the guys are going to be back in here,” I sigh.

“I’ll see you in three days, hockey boy.” She gets up from my lap, kisses my cheek and leaves me alone in the locker room.

I hate this part, being separated from her. I was hoping this wouldn’t be my last season, but I know it is. My knees are hurting worse after each game and are so stiff in the mornings it makes getting out of bed miserable. If this was a year ago and I had to retire, I would have been lost and angry.

But now I have Willa. In whatever way she’ll have me. I’ll travel the world while she sells out stadiums, if that’s what she wants. I don’t care as long as I’m with her.