Page 41

Chapter 41

Hannah

It took me way too long to get to the hospital from the arena to see Declan, but now that I’m here, I refuse to let anyone or anything stand in my way. I charge through the double doors to the reception desk where the receptionist glances up briefly before returning to her computer.

“I’m here to see Declan Murray,” I say breathlessly.

The receptionist runs a pen down a list, locates his name, and lifts her gaze to mine. “And you are?”

“Hannah Dunaway. The coach’s daughter.”

“No family relation to Mr. Murray?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but?—”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t let you through just yet,” she interrupts. “Mr. Murray’s limited to family only right now.”

I grip the edge of the desk. “I know that’s not accurate. My dad—his coach—has already seen him. I just need five minutes.”

The receptionist hesitates, studying my face, before she finally relents and gives me Declan’s room number.

“Thank you,” I breathe, already moving toward the elevators.

The ride to the third floor feels eternal. When the doors finally open, I hurry down the hallway to Declan’s room. Through the glass window, I see him lying in bed, and my heart twists as memories of his body slamming against the ice flash through my mind.

I hesitate in the doorway. His eyes are closed, face paler than usual against the stark white hospital linens. My hand trembles slightly as I push the door open.

His eyes flutter open at the sound. When he sees me, a smile spreads across his face, and my heart races.

Because he’s here, and he’s okay. Despite the devastating hit he took, he walked away with nothing more than a mild concussion. I’ve never been particularly religious, but seeing him awake and alert after such a violent collision feels nothing short of miraculous.

I approach his bedside slowly. After getting caught by my father, I hesitate to take his hand, but he reaches for mine anyway.

“How are you?” I whisper.

“Better now that you’re here,” he says, his fingers intertwining with mine. “You probably already heard, but it’s just a concussion. I’ll be fine.”

“Thank god.” My voice catches. “I’m so sorry.”

Declan frowns and squeezes my hand. “Why?”

“I feel terrible,” I say as tears threaten to spill over. “This thing between us was supposed to be a secret, and I blew that up. I was careless. This could derail your career.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, tugging me closer. “Come here.”

I lean down, and he captures my lips with his. The kiss is gentle but insistent, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck. When we part, his eyes are bright despite the hospital pallor.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he says, voice raspy but firm. “But I like that you worried about me.” His lips quirk into a half-smile that makes my stomach flip. “The first thing I saw when I woke back up at the arena was your face, and I knew right then and there that everything was gonna be okay because you were with me.”

He hesitates, something intense flickering in his eyes. “But that just makes me sure about what I’m about to say.” He holds my gaze, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist. “I want this to be real. To be out in the open about being together—as a couple.”

The world tilts on its axis. The way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only person in the world that matters, collides with all the emotions still swirling inside me from watching him take such a bad hit.

“Declan,” I manage, my voice barely audible. I swallow hard, choosing my words carefully. “Do you remember how you told me that nothing that happened between us that night at Opal and Oak was a mistake?”

He nods, hope brightening his eyes.

“Well, you were wrong.” I see his expression falter, and I continue on quickly. “I almost left you my number that night. I wrote it down on a note, but I kept second guessing myself. I was too scared. And that was the mistake—not admitting that I wanted more.” I cup his cheek with my free hand. “Because I want this to be real between us too.”

Relief and joy transform his face. He pulls me down for another kiss, harder this time, as if sealing a pact between us. I feel weightless against him, the hospital room fading away until there’s nothing but his lips on mine.

Because a big part of me never thought this would happen. Hell, some part of me initially didn’t want it to. I was terrified about what my father would say or do if he found out I was dating one of his players, but now that he knows, there’s nothing left to hide. Well, not with my father anyway.

I’m still worried about how our relationship might affect Declan’s career, especially since he’s still so new to the team and the league. The media circus that follows hockey players’ personal lives isn’t something I want to bring down on Declan or his mom. They already have enough to deal with.

But I wasn’t lying when I told him that I wanted this to be real too. When I first found out Declan had been recruited by the Aces, I never imagined we’d be having this conversation, but now it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Are we really doing this?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I say, certainty flooding through me. “We really are.”

“What about your dad?”

I hesitate, but only briefly. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve been trying to keep my parents from worrying about me for way too long. I’ve been trying so hard to be the good daughter, to somehow make up for losing Casey, that I’ve lost myself in the process. Maybe it’s time I start living for me.”

Declan squeezes my hand, his gaze never leaving mine. His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I’m so fucking glad you’re mine.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, even as tears threaten to fall.

“It’s gonna sound crazy,” he continues, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, “but some part of me knew you were gonna be mine the very first time I kissed you that night.”

I answer with my lips on his, pouring everything I can’t articulate into our kiss. Dealing with my father won’t be easy, and the media will certainly have opinions, but right now, all that matters is Declan.

Because I’m his, and he’s mine. Officially. No more beating around the bush, no more unspoken tension between us. No more tiptoeing around my father or anyone else on the team.

We’re really doing this.

* * *

Soft morning light filters through the hospital blinds when I open my eyes. My neck aches from sleeping in the chair beside Declan’s bed, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. His hand is still in mine, just the way it was when I finally dozed off sometime after midnight.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with sleep.

I stretch, wincing at the stiffness in my back. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” His eyes are clearer today, the foggy confusion gone. “You didn’t have to stay all night.”

“Yes, I did.” I lean over to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Stay with their boyfriends in the hospital after they take a hit on the ice?”

A grin tilts his lips, and he tugs me closer for a kiss. “Hell yeah, it is.”

A knock interrupts us, and the doctor enters, clipboard in hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Murray. How’s the head today?” she asks while checking his vitals.

“Much better,” Declan replies, sitting up straighter.

The doctor shines a light in his eyes, asks him to follow her finger, then smiles. “Well, I’m pleased to tell you everything looks good. We’ll need you to take it easy for a few days—no hockey, no screens, no strenuous activity—but I’m comfortable discharging you this morning. Do you have someone who can stay with you for the next 24 hours?”

“He does,” I answer quickly. “Me.”

“Excellent. I’ll have the nurse bring in your discharge papers.”

After we complete the paperwork, a nurse brings us a wheelchair to get Declan out to my car. They offer to help me wheel him outside, but I don’t want him out of my sight and he seems anxious too, so I decide to do it myself. As we reach the exit, he reaches behind himself for my hand.

“What is it?”

“I don’t really want to be alone.”

“You won’t be,” I promise. “I was planning to stay with you anyway. I don’t think you should be alone either.”

His shoulders relax. “Can we go to your place instead? It feels more like home there with you and Ralph.”

His words wrap around my heart like a warm embrace. “Of course we can.”

He’s still a little woozy and unsteady on his feet, so getting him from the wheelchair into the passenger seat takes some maneuvering, but we manage. We drive with our fingers intertwined on the center console, neither of us wanting to break the comfortable silence with words. We’ve said what matters most—everything else can wait.

At home, I hear Ralph jumping down from the bed and dashing into the living room as soon as we walk inside. She starts meowing for food until she realizes Declan is with me and charges over to him to start rubbing her face all over his legs. Laughing, Declan bends over to pick her up, and I keep my hand on his back to steady him just in case the blood rushing to his head makes him unsteady. But he seems unfazed.

“There’s my little fashion girl,” he says cradling her against his chest. She starts purring like an engine almost right away, and he carries her back to the bedroom where he lies down with her right on top of his stomach.

I’m sure before the night is over, he’ll have her modeling all the new hats and sweaters he’s crocheted for her, but I’m not jealous. Not even a little bit. I love that Ralph seems to have gotten as close to Declan as I have, and that we already have this little family going.

I climb into bed with them and rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes to the soothing sound of Ralph’s purring. Declan tilts his head to rest on top of mine. “I’m right where I belong with both of my girls.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. But now that he’s safe and we’re lying here still, a sense of anxiety prickles in my stomach. Our relationship so far has existed in a bubble—a perfect, amazing bubble, but a bubble nonetheless. And what happened yesterday burst it, letting real life come rushing in.

And as much as I don’t want to think about it right now when everything feels so right, a thought sits in the pit of my stomach like a weight.

With all the messiness of our real lives getting mixed in, can we really make this work?