Page 2

ONE

willa

2 MONTHS AGO

Normally, the swaying of the bus as we drive to the next city for our next show lulls me to sleep. Tonight seems to be the exception. Jo is asleep in the bunk above me, while Mav’s quiet snores are coming from across the aisle. We gave Kai and Belle the small bedroom in the back, so we didn’t have to hear them.

Instead of sleeping, I’m doom scrolling through a different social media app every three minutes. I’m about to give up and try to get some sleep again when an alert pings, the notification freezing my fingers in their tracks.

San Diego Barracudas Star Declan Monroe Involved in Car Crash

I sit up so quickly I make myself dizzy.

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter as I jump out of my bunk and race to the front of the bus as quietly as I can. Cal and Harlow have their own bus, so at least I don’t have to worry about waking up Cora. I’m hitting Declan’s number over and over, but it keeps going to voicemail. “Come on, Dec,” I growl, my grip on the phone turning painful. I take a deep breath and try to steady my shaking limbs before pulling up the article. Dec’s red super car is wrapped around a tree. It’s hard to tell from the fuzzy image and all the first responders and their vehicles blocking the picture, but it looks totaled.

My hands shake so badly that I drop my phone. It immediately starts vibrating, and I scramble to pick it up. Declan’s name and the picture I took of him a few years ago after one of his games, his brown hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, green eyes shining, and his smile bright as always, flashes across the screen. It takes a few tries of shaky swiping to answer the call.

“Dec,” I breathe, throat tight with barely withheld tears.

“I’m okay, Princess,” his soothing voice comes through. I let out the breath I was holding and with it comes the tears. “I’m so sorry, Willa. I swear I’m okay.”

“You need to stop this, Declan!” I whisper-shout into my phone. I need him to understand how serious I am, but I don’t want to wake everyone else up. I angrily swipe the tears away while wishing I could reach through the phone and strangle him.

“No one was hurt. I was just trying to figure out how to do something. I swear I made sure no one was around first.”

“This is the third accident, Dec! The third!”

“Hey, the other two were —”

“Stop! Please stop all this Declan. You need to grow up. It’s not funny anymore,” I beg him. He sighs loudly, and I can hear his footsteps. I bet he’s pacing right now.

“Princess —”

“Don’t even try to soften this with nicknames, Declan,” I say, interrupting him again. “Do you understand how hard it is to constantly see your best friend ripped apart in the media? Then, to make it worse, you give them more fodder for their bullshit fire.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The pacing has stopped.

“You’re the best person I know. Why are you trying so hard to be someone else?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“I’ve been like this for years, Willa. Maybe it is who I am.” I can hear the defeat in his voice. I stare at the gray floor of the bus, watching the lights come and go as we pass by street lamps. Declan is lost, but can someone who feels just as lost as he does help him?

“I know who you are, Dec. Even if you don’t. I’ll remind you every damn day if I need to.”

“You’re my best friend forever and ever and ever.”

I laugh and shake my head. “You’re mine too, hockey boy.”

“Thanks for the kick in the ass, Princess.”

“Just do better, Dec. If I get another notification in the middle of the night that gives me a heart attack, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“I’ll work on it. I promise,” he says. It’s the best I’m going to get right now, so I let it go.

“I’m going back to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

“Good night, hockey boy.”

I slowly shuffle back to my bunk, my heart rate finally back to normal. Glancing over at Mav’s bunk, I see him leaning out of the curtain and staring at me. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I shrug. He holds my gaze for a moment before shutting his curtain. The good thing about Maverick is he never asks questions.

Sleep is fitful at best. My dreams are filled with images of my best friend going up in a fiery blaze.