Page 5

FOUR

declan

“I really don’t know what you were expecting,” Finn says, hands on his hips as he looks down at me like a disappointed mother.

“I’m twenty-seven, not forty!” I argue, throwing my hands up and leaping off the chair I’ve been occupying outside of our coach’s office.

“You’re a twenty-seven-year-old playboy that drinks too much and crashed three cars this year while he was under contract with a team that is notoriously strict with their image.”

“I win them games! Who cares if I like to have fun and appreciate women?” I huff and cross my arms over my chest.

“And the cars?” he asks, his judgmental face still firmly in place.

“Only one of those was my fault, and you know it.” I somehow managed to be rear ended twice in the same month. The third accident was me thinking I knew how to drift. Which I guess I did. Once. Into a tree. At least it was in a closed parking lot, so no one was hurt. A fact everyone seems to ignore when they bring it up.

Finn sighs and pushes his hand through his shoulder-length hair. We’ve been on the same NHL team since we were both drafted at eighteen. He’s become my closest friend here by default, and I think he might be reaching his limit with me.

“Monroe,” Coach barks. I wince before following him into his office. My agent, Diego, is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Shit. This isn’t good.

“You wanted to see me, Coach?” I ask as I take the open seat in front of his desk. I nod at Diego, who doesn’t look happy with me.

“We’re not renewing your contract, son,” Coach says, skipping right to the point as usual.

“What?” I shout, leaping from my seat. “I’m the top scorer on the team!”

Coach nods calmly. “Management has decided you’re not worth the risk to their image anymore. You’re one of the oldest players on the team. You probably have two or three years left at most.”

“Why does everyone keep acting like twenty-seven is old?” I say, pulling at my hair. I know it’s practically nursing home worthy in hockey years, but I’ve been playing just as good now as I did at eighteen. Better, actually.

“I tried to get them to change their minds, but it’s final. Clear out your locker by the end of the week,” Coach says, rapping his knuckles on his desk. “It’s been an honor to coach you, kid. But take my advice and get your shit together if you want to keep playing. I’ll let you two talk.” He leaves me in his office with Diego.

“Sit down, Declan.”

I plop back in my seat dramatically. “What the fuck am I going to do now?”

“I have two offers,” Diego says, not sounding overly excited about either of them.

I sigh and a nod for him to keep going.

“Texas —”

“They suck,” I groan, interrupting him.

“Or Boston,” he continues like I haven’t spoken. I perk up at that.

“Boston?” I’d love to go home.

“There’s a catch.”

“Of course there’s a fucking catch. What is it?”

“You need to clean up your image. No more partying. No being photographed with a different woman every night. They want zero bullshit in the press from you.”

“Fine. What else?” I say.

“You need to prove it before they’ll let you sign.”

“How the fuck do I do that? I’m the top scorer on this team and fourth in the league! Teams should be rushing to sign me,” I say. I don’t mean to sound as cocky as I do, but it’s true. My stats speak for themselves. “I swear if you say it’s my age, Diego,” I point at him.

“It’s part of it, but not all. You messed up, Declan. You slept with the daughter of the owner of the team you play for and expected no repercussions.”

“I told her what to expect from the start. It’s not my fault she thought she was the one that could lock me down.” Okay, I hear how that sounds, but I’m sticking with it.

“It doesn’t matter. Owners speak to each other. And unfortunately for you, most of them have daughters.”

“Great. You’re making me sound like a predator,” I say, my mood turning angrier by the second. “I still don’t understand what you want me to do. They waited until the last minute to decide. Practice is starting for all teams this week. I missed the mini camps that would’ve been beneficial to getting to know my new team. How the hell do I prove I’m not the irresponsible playboy they think I am by tomorrow?”

“Stay out of the press and maybe get an actual girlfriend. A committed relationship and no bad press could get you signed and playing by mid-season. Unless you want to hear the Texas deal, but you’re right, they suck, and they would pay you less than a rookie.”

Staying out of the press is the easy part. There hasn’t been a single picture or article written about me since I crashed my car. I’ve kept my head down and stayed out of the public eye. There was no way I was going to do something to hurt Willa any more than I already had. Where the hell am I going to find a girlfriend on such short notice? Do I even want a girlfriend? Honestly, with my reputation, I’m not sure just having a girlfriend would be enough for Boston to believe I’ve settled down.

Unless. . .

“I’m engaged!” I blurt. I can’t sit out the beginning of the season. I won’t admit it out loud, but my body can’t take that kind of break and be able to get back to where I need to be in the middle of a season anymore.

Diego’s eyebrows shoot up. “Engaged?” he says, not at all believing me.

“Yes. Engaged, Diego. You know, where I got down on one knee and begged my woman to stay with my dumb ass forever?” I’m covering my idiot-panic with sarcasm.

“This seems unlikely, Declan.”

“When was the last time I was actually photographed with someone?” I ask, knowing it’s been over six months. It might be longer for all I know. I’ve been getting sick of this lifestyle for a while now. Meaningless hookups were great for a long time, but as I get older, they hold less appeal.

Diego studies me, and I know he knows the answer. “You’re going to need to be seen with her. I advise you to push up the wedding as soon as you can. The sooner you’re a boring married man, the quicker and easier we can get you that contract.”

“Uh. I’ll talk to her, but she’s kind of on tour right now, so I don’t know how soon I can push things,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“She’s well known?” Diego asks, suddenly very interested. “That might work in our favor depending on how she’s seen in the media.”

“Squeaky clean,” I say immediately.

“Who is she?”

“I need to talk to her about all this,” I say, rushing to the door. “We’ve kept our relationship quiet, and I’m not going to put the spotlight on it if she doesn’t want to.” Or if I can’t get her to agree to this. Fuck . I’m so stupid.

“Okay, but Declan . . .”

“I know,” I say, rushing from the office.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter to myself as I rush into the bathroom and fumble with the lock on the door.

Willa is going to kill me.

I take a deep breath and make the call.

“Hey hockey boy.”

“Hey, Princess. How’s the tour going?” I ask, mentally trying to figure out how to ask her what I need to.

“It’s on hold. You don’t pay much attention to social media, do you?” she asks with a laugh.

“Not if I can avoid it,” I admit. “What happened with the tour? The last time we talked, you were really excited. I listen to the album all the time. It’s fucking amazing.” And it is. They’re really talented.

Willa catches me up on everything that happened to Harlow, and my jaw is on the floor by the time she’s done.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” I ask, a little more anger behind it than there really should be. But she keeps trying to keep things from me to protect my career. Which is stupid and clearly pointless since I’m doing a great job of ruining it myself.

Willa sighs. “It’s hard. The distance, I mean. There’s been some progress in Ezra’s case. Cal is a dad now. Maverick is either doing well or hitting rock bottom, depending on what news we get that day.” I know what she means about the distance. Not being able to hang out with your best friend when you need to vent or just want to watch a new show together sucks. I’ve only managed to go to a handful of Shattered Halo concerts over the years and wasn’t even able to stay to the end because of early morning practices or needing to catch a flight to the next game. Willa has been to more of my games, but I only got to see her for maybe an hour after before she was back on a tour bus.

“What about you? It’s you I care about. How are you?”

“I don’t really know. Sometimes I’m angry. Sometimes I’m fine. Today I’m good.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” I say softly. We used to call each other every day. For years we spoke daily. The shirt storm I got myself into the past few months had me hiding, even from her.

“I miss you, Dec. I wish you were here,” she says, her voice sounding small.

“About that. You remember a couple of years ago when you said you’d trade a kidney to get me traded to Boston?” She doesn’t say anything for so long that I have to check to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.

“Did you sell my kidney to Boston? I’m not even sure I’m mad if you did. Are you moving here?” She sounds excited now, and I smile. Then I remember what I need her to do, and my smile drops.

“No kidneys, but I need you to do something else for me,” I say.

“Anything,” Willa says immediately.

“I need you to become Mrs. Monroe.” I hold my breath and wait for her response. The hysterical laughter that nearly blows out my eardrums isn’t what I was expecting.

“Willa,” I yell into the phone, holding it away from my ear so I can continue to hear.

“That was funny. You got me,” she says, still laughing, but at a more manageable decibel.

“Princess, I’m serious.” I explain the meeting I just had and admit to what I told Diego.

“Declan!” she says, sounding both shocked and angry. “You could’ve at least called me first!”

“I know! I’m sorry. I panicked.” I rub my hand over my face, frustrated with myself for putting her in this situation. “You know what? Never mind. I won’t do this to you. If my career ends here, it was still one hell of a career.”

“Will you hold your dang horses and give me a flipping second?” Willa says, and I laugh. “Shush. I’m trying not to swear. Cora keeps repeating everything, and I’m babysitting her right now.”

“It’s really alright, Princess.”

“It’s really not, but that’s more on the controlling angle these teams are playing with than your dumb penis and it’s even dumber choices.”

I laugh because I can’t disagree.

“I’ll do it. When will you be home?”

I smile even though she can’t see me. “I’ll move as soon as I can.” I pause, giving her time to change her mind. “Thank you, Willa. I promise I’ll be the best husband you’ve ever had.” She snorts, and I know she’s shaking her head right now.

“We’ll figure all this out when you get here.”

“See you soon, wifey.”

I hear her mutter Jesus Christ under her breath before she hangs up.

“What did you do?”

I jump and turn to see Finn standing in front of the door I thought I locked. His blond hair is loose around his ears, which would trick anyone just meeting him into thinking he was a relaxed guy. That’s if they didn’t register how tall and wide the man is. Or how grumpy his face usually is.

“I asked my best friend to marry me,” I say, a little smugly.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Why? People do it all the time. How many weddings have we been to? They all say they’re marrying their best friend,” I point out.

Finn shakes his head and looks disappointed in me again. “They were also in love with their best friend.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll make great roommates until I retire.” I should probably talk to Willa about the actual length she’s willing to tie herself to me before bragging about my genius plan to my back-up best friend.

Finn is just glaring at me. Sometimes it feels like those icy blue eyes are looking directly into my soul. It’s unnerving, and if I didn’t know how much of a marshmallow that stone exterior was hiding, I would probably be scared of him.

“We both know I only have until I’m thirty at most. My knees aren’t going to hang on much longer. Willa has been my best friend for most of my life. This isn’t going to change anything.”

“Sure it’s not,” he says. He turns and leaves without saying anything else.

“Nothing can ruin our friendship!” I call after him.

Because nothing has and nothing ever will.