Page 12

Chapter 12

Declan

Hannah stares at me over the rim of her glass as she takes her first sip, and her features soften with pleasure as the alcohol hits her tongue. It’s the exact same look she wore when I watched her taste her drink that night at Opal and Oak—the same one that’s been etched into my memory ever since.

It hit me like a ton of bricks, even with half her face covered by a mask, and it’s even more captivating now that I can see all the details on her beautiful face. Her skin glows with a post-workout flush, her lips full and curved in that slight, secret smile. And her heterochromatic eyes are even more striking now that they aren’t peeking out from behind a mask.

In a strange way, I feel like I’m really seeing her for the first time—like she’s finally letting me in. They’re fleeting, but I’ve seen little glimpses of who she really is here and there since I started with the Aces. There’s something so honest and open about her in those moments, those rare times where the carefully constructed walls of hers slip, and I can see right down to the core of her. I like that soft, vulnerable side of her more than I care to admit, and I hope that we can eventually get to a place where she trusts me enough to show it more often.

Hannah notices me watching her when she lowers her glass, and warmth rises to my face. I don’t usually get flustered like this around women, but I can’t seem to help it when I’m around her. She just has this effect on me that I can’t explain, and that’s a big part of the reason I haven’t given up pursuing her, even though I know I probably should. But I don’t want to come across like a lovesick fool, so I clear my throat. “You know, I meant what I said that first day when you saw me in the locker room. I really do want to get to know you more.”

Her brows draw together slightly, like she’s internally debating whether she should let her guard down. But she takes another tentative sip of her whiskey, and as she lowers the glass, her expression relaxes. She leans back against the booth seat but doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches me while she lets the liquid linger on her palate.

“Did you really not know that your coach is my dad?” she finally asks after swallowing.

“No, I really didn’t. I had literally no idea who you were when we met, and I never thought I’d see you again. Not that I didn’t want to.” A hint of a smile appears in the corner of her mouth, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. Something about that fleeting smile emboldens me. “Does some part of you wish I hadn’t been signed to the Aces? Do you wish I hadn’t come here?”

She contemplates the question, tracing the edge of her glass against the table, then shakes her head so slightly that if I wasn’t watching her every move like it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—because it is—I would’ve missed it.

“I don’t want that. You’re a great player, and you’ll be good for the Aces.”

I’m glad to hear that, but I still lift an eyebrow at her. “That’s not exactly what I was asking.” The words hang in the air between us and I’m sure she knows exactly what I was getting at, but I don’t push her on it. She’s finally sitting down and opening up to me a little bit, so the last thing I want to do is push too hard and watch her retreat behind those walls again.

The waitress interrupts the tension when she appears with the onion rings I ordered to get us started. But when she slides them across the table and they stop between us, sizzling fresh from the frier, it feels like the energy starts to sizzle with them. Hannah thanks the waitress and impatiently reaches out to grab an onion ring from the stack, breaking the tension.

“I’m ravenous,” she says and takes a bite, but she makes a pained face and exhales sharply at how hot the onion ring is. “Oh my god, that’s scorching.”

“Yeah, you should probably let it cool down a bit first. Did you not have lunch?”

Hannah shakes her head. “I don’t always get the chance to eat during the day between classes and teaching, so I’m usually starving by the end of the day.”

“Can’t you bring a lunch with you?”

“Sure, but when would I have time to eat it?” Hannah asks as she lifts the steaming onion ring to her mouth and takes another bite. But she’s at least prepared for the heat this time, so it doesn’t look like it’s as much of a surprise. I pinch a ring from the stack myself but blow on it a few times before I even think about biting into it.

“School sounds pretty stressful.”

Hannah scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly. I have a big test coming up that’s really freaking me out. But school in general stresses me out.”

“Really? You seem like you’re on top of things, at least from the outside.”

Hannah smiles as she chews, then covers her mouth with her free hand. “I guess I’m good at faking it then.”

I bite back the obvious joke, and I can tell from the way Hannah’s watching me that she’s waiting for me to take the bait. “I can relate. I struggled in school a bit too,” I say instead and take a bite of the onion ring, hoping she won’t ask me to elaborate. It’s not that I don’t want to be open with her about my experience, I’m just not ready to share it with her yet.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I’d get through it if I didn’t have yoga. It really helps me clear my head when everything’s piling up and getting intense.”

I nod my agreement. “Yeah, it’s good you have that. I have something that helps me too, which is lucky because yoga apparently isn’t in the cards for me.”

Hannah smirks as she lifts her glass to her mouth. “You did fine. But if it’s not yoga for you, then what is it, if I can ask?” She tips her glass back for another sip of whiskey.

“Crocheting,” I tell her, and she almost chokes on her drink. She sets her glass down with a clatter and looks at me with wide eyes as she struggles to get the liquid down, then takes a sputtering breath. When she’s gotten herself back together, she shakes her head and grins.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, I’m just shocked. That’s the last thing I would’ve guessed.”

I shrug. “It’s okay, I’m used to it. Most people are surprised when I tell them.”

Hannah hesitates, biting her lower lip like she’s afraid to say what’s on the tip of her tongue. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t blame them. That’s an unusual hobby for a professional hockey player. How did you get into it?”

“It was something my grandma used to love doing, and I loved spending time with her, so she offered to teach me when I was a kid. Turns out I’m pretty good at it, so it kind of became our thing. Before I knew it, I was totally hooked—pun intended. She passed away a while back, so now it’s my way of keeping that connection going. Every time I pick up my crochet hook and get to work, it feels like she’s giving me a big hug.”

I don’t usually share all of that with people, but something about Hannah makes me want to let her see the parts of me I typically keep private.

She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry to hear she passed, but that’s really sweet. What kind of stuff do you like to make?”

I shrug. “I’ll try anything, honestly, but most of what I end up doing is basic stuff like blankets and scarves. I tried making a pair of mittens for myself once when I was a kid, but it didn’t go very well. I ended up almost getting frostbite because I insisted on wearing them to school in the middle of the winter, but I had no idea what I was doing with the measurements so there were a ton of gaps and holes in them.”

Hannah chuckles. “Aw, that’s kind of cute.”

“The frostbite?” I ask, and she laughs.

“No, I meant making your own mittens and wearing them even though you probably shouldn’t have. Sounds like you’ve always been headstrong.”

I smile at her. “Yeah, and trust me, my parents loved that about me. But what can I say? I don’t take no for an answer.”

Hannah laughs and looks at me playfully. “I’ve noticed.”

We sit staring into each other’s eyes with all of this unspoken tension swirling between us. I don’t really know where we’re at, where this is going, or what she thinks of me, but I know I like being around her and I’m not going to give that up—even if her dad is my coach. This could all blow up in my face, and I know that, but for some reason I’m not worried about it.

There’s something about her that makes the risk seem worth it.

And I’m glad we got this chance to spend a little time together away from everyone else to talk because I feel like I’m finally getting to see who she really is. She’s been distant since we ran into each other again in the locker room a few weeks ago, and I guess I don’t blame her for that since her dad probably would go nuclear if he found out about us doing anything other than yoga together. But I hope as we spend more time together, she’ll see that she doesn’t have anything to worry about.

And that I can keep secrets.

“I’m working on a scarf with the Aces logo on it for my mom right now.”

“That’s cute. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“I don’t know. I make a lot of stuff for her and she’s running out of room for it all.”

“Sounds like you two are close,” Hannah says and takes another sip of her whiskey.

“Yeah, very. What about you and your folks? Seems like you and your dad are close from what I’ve seen.” Hannah sets her glass down and regards me for a second like she’s weighing how much she wants to share. “Don’t worry, I’m not fishing for info. I’m just genuinely curious. Like I said, I want to get to know you more.”

Hannah finally nods. “We’re pretty close, yeah. They’ve always supported me.”

“That’s great. But it must be weird having such a famous guy for a dad,” I say, but Hannah shrugs.

“It was harder when I was younger, but I’m used to it now. And he’s not that famous. It’s not like we get stopped on the street or recognized in public all the time or anything.”

“Hannah!” someone shouts from across the bar, breaking the moment and immediately disproving what she just said.

Her gaze whips to the front of the bar as some brown-haired, clean-cut looking guy in a pristine light blue polo shirt comes strolling over to her like they’re best friends. But she doesn’t look happy to see him, and something protective stirs in my chest when I see the way she almost instantly tenses as he stops at our booth.

He smiles at her with practiced charm. “I thought I might find you here after class.”

“Hi, Aaron,” she says flatly as the guy stands staring down at us in the booth, but she won’t look him in the eyes. His gaze darts between the two of us and suspicion flashes on his face, and after a beat, Hannah jumps to explain. “This is Declan. He’s a new player on the Aces. I’m giving him yoga lessons.”

“Oh, so you’re the new rookie I’ve been hearing so much about, huh?”

“Yeah. And who are you?” I ask directly, wondering where the hell this is going and why this guy thinks it’s okay for him to barge into someone else’s conversation.

“I’m Hannah’s boyfriend,” he says, and my brows shoot up my forehead.

I’m not sure I heard him correctly at first, but his smirk widens at my reaction, so he must not be joking. My eyes shoot to Hannah, who’s clutching her drink in both her hands and determinedly staring at the table.

A cold weight settles in my stomach.

Why didn’t Hannah ever think to mention she was seeing someone, now or six months ago? Not that I would’ve been entitled to the information back then, but we’ve spent hours together today, so she had plenty of opportunities to bring it up, especially if she was uncomfortable with giving me private lessons.

Confusion and disappointment war within me, my mind racing. Is this the real reason why she’s been so reserved around me? And was she already seeing this guy when we hooked up that night at Opal and Oak, or did he enter the picture after?

“You know what? I should probably get going,” I tell Hannah and slide up from the booth to fish my wallet out of my pocket and throw some money down on the table for the drinks and onion rings.

Aaron is still smirking at me, so I shoulder past him, putting a little more force in it than I probably should, and stride out of the bar with a heaviness in my chest and my mind buzzing like a hive.