Page 20

Chapter 20

Hannah

Declan’s grin makes my stomach flutter.

He nods. “Okay, then I’ll go first. Truth or dare?”

He leans across the table as he asks, closing the distance between us. His cologne—woodsy with a hint of spice—drifts toward me with the movement, enveloping my senses, and I have to fight the urge to inhale deeply. My heart is already hammering, but I’m determined not to let it show.

“Truth. We’ll ease into it,” I answer. Declan cocks a brow, and my cheeks flame when I realize the accidental innuendo I just made. “N-not like that.”

I can’t believe I just said that. But something about the way he looks at me makes it impossible to think clearly.

I feel like he’s already undressing me with his eyes, like he’s about to climb over this table and take me at any second. And the craziest part? Even though we’re in a very public place, this little game of cat-and-mouse we’re playing has me so turned on that I’d probably let him. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him like that since we kissed in the parking lot outside the studio.

“Fair enough.” His chuckle is low and warm. “Okay, then why don’t you tell me the truth about why you were having such a shitty Tuesday?”

His question catches me completely off guard. It’s not that I can’t or won’t talk about it with him, it’s more that I don’t want to be a downer for what has turned out to be a fun night. But more than that, I don’t want him to feel sorry for me or treat me any differently—because that’s easily the worst part of the whole “dead twin brother” thing. People change when I tell them, and it’s rarely for the better.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know if you feel comfortable sharing,” Declan adds as the bartender drops off our food, and there’s something about the gentle sincerity in his voice that lifts the weight I was feeling just a moment ago. Maybe it’s irresponsible of me since I barely know him, but I feel like I can trust him with this.

“It’s okay,” I say, taking a small bite and swallowing. “I just don’t really know where to start.”

He reaches out to rest one of his hands on mine, and I have to fight back a shiver. A sigh slips between my lips instead, and although my immediate instinct is to pull away out of fear that someone will see us seemingly holding hands like this, I remember that no one is here besides the bartender—who isn’t paying us a sliver of attention anyway.

Declan traces slow circles against the back of my hand, making tingles spread up my arm. His eyes snap to mine, and I feel like he’s seeing into my soul. “Start wherever you feel comfortable. I’m listening.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have a twin brother, Casey. Or I guess I should say that I used to have a twin.” Declan’s brows creep together, and he squeezes my hand. “He had cancer, and the other day was the ten-year anniversary of his death.”

“Oh shit, hummingbird. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. That must have been impossible to get through.”

“Thanks. And yeah, it was hard for all of us. It still is. Sometimes it feels like there’s this huge hole in my life where Casey used to be. And sometimes I forget he’s gone until something reminds me that he is. Those are the hardest days.”

Declan takes both of my hands in his, cradling them like something precious. “I can’t even imagine.”

I nod. It’s weird because I don’t normally talk about this with people, not even my family, but there’s some part of me that really doesn’t mind Declan knowing this piece of my history. Maybe because it’s pretty much impossible to talk about it with anyone in my family, it feels good to lift the weight that’s been sitting on my chest since Tuesday. And in some way that even I can’t explain to myself, I’m glad it’s Declan who’s helping me do it.

“Anyway, my mom invited me over Tuesday night for dinner to kind of mourn the anniversary together. She was in a terrible mood—understandably—until somehow Aaron came up. She seemed so excited about the idea of me maybe getting back with him that I couldn’t really bring myself to say no to him about going to dinner together tonight, even though I really, really wanted to.”

Declan eyes me for a few seconds, and he looks like he wants to say something but isn’t quite sure. Finally, he releases my hands to rest his palms on the table, but he never takes his eyes off mine.

“I’m going to try to say this as delicately as I can, and please know you’re more than welcome to tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping,” he starts, but I nod for him to keep going. “You don’t have to live your life for your parents just because your brother died.”

His words strike me with the force of absolute truth. He’s right, and I know he is, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. How couldn’t I?

My mother and my father never played favorites with me and Casey, but when he died, everything changed overnight for the three of us. Where they used to have two kids they could invest all their hopes and dreams in, now they only have me. So I’ve been terrified to do or say anything that might disappoint them because in some na?ve way, I feel responsible for making up Casey’s death to them. Like somehow, if I work hard enough, get my law degree, and build an incredible career and life for myself, it’ll take all the pain of losing him away from them.

But it won’t.

“I know. I just don’t want to let them down or see them hurt,” I mutter, and change the subject quickly. “But there you go, there’s your truth. Now it’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Declan answers without hesitation, and I’m grateful that he’s not trying to linger on what I just shared.

“Okay. I just shared some of my baggage with you, so I think it’s only fair you return the favor. What’s something true about you I don’t know but should?”

Declan takes a drink and turns the glass in his hand several times before he answers. “I’m dyslexic,” he says matter-of-factly.

My brows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yup, really.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have known.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, lifting one shoulder. “You asked for baggage. There it is.”

“I’m sorry,” I rush, feeling totally insensitive for even asking him that. “We don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.” But Declan’s hand flies back out to rest on my wrist, stopping me.

“Honestly, there isn’t much I feel like I can’t share with you.” His words wrap around my heart like a caress. My hands fidget until Declan puts his on mine and squeezes my fingers. “Besides, you just shared something super personal with me, so it’s only fair, like you said.”

Several questions buzz in my head, but I don’t know how to ask them in a way that isn’t problematic. And I don’t want to make him feel like he’s under a microscope either, so I’m not sure what to do until he starts laughing at me.

“There you go again, all in your head.”

“Am I really that obvious?” I ask with a self-conscious smile, and Declan nods hard.

“Sorry to break it to you, but yeah, you are. And since I already know you’re wondering, I got diagnosed as a kid. It was rough at first, but once I learned some tools to help me, it got a lot easier. It still trips me up every now and then though.”

“It must have been so hard to have to deal with that as a kid. I know how awful kids can be to each other.”

Declan continues caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. “Yeah, I wasn’t any exception to that. They were ruthless. And my dad wasn’t much better about it.”

“Are you serious? Your own dad bullied you for that?”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly the best guy in the world. My mom and I struggled for a while financially after he left, but we still weren’t all that upset to see him go, even when the health problems she was having turned out to be Parkinson’s.”

I sit staring at him, speechless, as I try to absorb what he just shared. What do I even say to something like that? But what’s really catching me off guard is how he seems to be handling it. I’m sure it must still bother him at some level, but he’s talking about it with me like it’s ancient history.

“Is your mom still in Canada?”

Declan shakes his head. “No, she’s in San Diego. But don’t worry, she’s okay. I made sure she had everything she needed and more before I moved to Denver. We talk regularly, and if she ever needs anything, she can call me anytime. I’d move heaven and earth for her, she knows that.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking and difficult it had to have been for him to say goodbye to her, to move so far away. I was aware of how little I actually knew about Declan before, but learning all of this now makes me see him in a completely different light—and that makes me wince because I realize I’m doing the exact same thing to him that I didn’t want him doing to me.

“I can’t believe you came here to play for the Aces even with all of that going on. You’re way stronger than I am. I could never have done that if it was my parents. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

He smiles and gently strokes my hands with his. “Thanks, but you’ve been through a lot too. And I think you’re way stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words steal the breath from my lungs, and when his hands move from mine to my wrists, the veins inside them feel like they’re igniting from the inside out. It makes it hard to focus on the conversation, and even harder to form coherent sentences.

“You’re something else, you know that?” I whisper, and Declan chuckles, still with his thumbs tracing the veins showing through the pale skin on the underside of my wrist.

“That’s high praise coming from you. But what do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… you went through all of this shit, but instead of hardening you, it’s like it somehow made you more of a sunny person. I don’t know how you do it.”

He shrugs, grinning at me. “Life definitely dealt me a shitty hand a few times. I won’t deny that. But I never saw the point of getting bitter or angry about it. What good would it do me? None.”

His outlook stuns me. I can’t say I feel quite the same way about my own bad hands that life has doled out. There isn’t a single fiber in my body that wouldn’t willingly give itself up to get Casey back, to undo all the trauma and damage done to my entire family when he died.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve cried myself to sleep about it, hoping and praying that when I woke up Casey would be in the bedroom next to mine again. It changed all of us and our lives forever, and we’re still grappling with it, even ten years later.

I’d love to find a way back to the happy-go-lucky girl I was at fourteen, the girl who thought the whole world was hers, but that version of me feels like a distant memory, so far away now that I often wonder if she ever really existed or if I just made her up to help myself cope.

There’s no denying I’m different now, overly cautious and always afraid of the other shoe dropping. But who wouldn’t be after losing their twin brother at that age?

Looking at Declan now—his eyes bright with life despite everything—makes something shift inside me.

I already admired him for his discipline and commitment to hockey, on and off the ice, but learning about all the stuff he’s been through and how he’s powered through it without letting it totally change him has only made those feelings stronger. He’s more than just impressive, he’s amazing.

“But fuck all my naysayers, because look at me now. I’m the hotshot rookie on the hottest team in the league,” he says with a grin, snapping me out of my thoughts and back into the booth where my hands are still linked with his.

I chuckle. “Damn right you are.”

He gives my hands a little squeeze, and although his grin doesn’t waver, I can see a hint of the weight he’s carried reflected behind his eyes.

“Besides, it wasn’t all bad,” Declan continues. “There were plenty of good moments too. And the hard stuff just made me realize that you have to take the good while you have it. I mean, you probably know better than anyone else that nothing is guaranteed to last forever.”

I swallow, nodding as his words wash over me. Because he’s right. I do.