Page 42

Chapter 42

Declan

It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week and I’m already back at practice—although with the way Dunaway is riding my ass, I wish I was still laid up with Hannah.

Just like the doctors said I would, I’ve made a full recovery, but I’ve still been trying to take it easier out on the ice just in case. The last thing I need right now is another injury, whether it’s to my head or even a stubbed toe. But since Dunaway threatened to bench me, I can’t afford not to give it everything I’ve got, which isn’t exactly compatible with taking it easy.

Like he can hear me thinking about him, Dunaway blasts his whistle and flags me down. “Murray! What the hell are you doing out there? I don’t pay you to daydream. Get moving.”

“Yes, Coach,” I call back, pushing harder and sprinting to rejoin the lineup of guys for the next drill. He’s obviously still pissed off at me and not being shy about taking it out on me, but that’s fine. Like I told him, he can say or do whatever he wants to me. It won’t change how I feel about Hannah or how much time she and I spend together.

The rest of the team has noticed, too. Theo glances over his shoulder at me from farther up the line and raises his eyebrows, but I just wave him off. I don’t want to draw any of the guys into this drama, and I’m sure it’ll pass as soon as Dunaway works through whatever is stuck up his ass about it. But he must be particularly annoyed today because he blows his whistle and calls practice five minutes early when someone misses a shot.

“That’s enough for today. Clearly, we’re all not in the right headspace,” he says and leaves the arena for his office. The rest of us mill around on the ice for a few minutes until we’re sure he’s gone, then start streaming out one by one to the locker room. Theo sidles up beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“Seems like Coach isn’t taking too well to you dating his daughter, huh?” he asks, but I can tell from the tone of his voice he’s not being a smart ass about it. He’s legitimately asking. I’m not sure how he found out about that already, but then again, I’m not surprised that word has already spread among the team. There’s no such thing as secrets on a professional sports team.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Want to grab a beer later? Talk it out?” Theo offers.

I shake my head. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got that speech at Bear River High today.”

“Right, right. The motivational thing.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Well, hang in there. I’ve known Dunaway for years, and let me tell you, after all the shit I’ve pulled since I joined the team, I’ve learned he can’t stay mad for very long.”

“I guess that’s comforting?”

He laughs and heads across the locker room to strip off his gear and hit the showers. Everyone else follows until it’s just me and Noah left, like he’s been lingering on purpose to get some alone time with me.

“I’m glad you’re okay and back out on the ice,” he says, testing the waters.

“Yeah, thanks. Me too.”

“How are you doing? Really?”

I chuckle and shrug. “I don’t know, man. It’s not awful, but things could definitely be better. I don’t have any idea how long Dunaway is gonna ride me for this.”

“Have a seat,” Noah says, gesturing at one of the benches, so I drop down onto it, and he joins me with his forearms resting on his knees. “Dunaway has told me more than once that he wouldn’t let his daughter date hockey players. And I totally understand why. It can be demanding with the schedule, there can be a lot of ego involved, and a girl can always end up coming second place to hockey. Not to mention that some players have reputations as, well, players.”

He falls silent for a few seconds, almost like he’s a little embarrassed or making a reference to how much he’s changed. I chuckle at him.

“You’re so head over heels for Margo now that I find it hard to believe you were ever a player.”

Noah looks up at me with a serious expression, ignoring my comment. “Are you serious about Hannah? Because if you’re not, then you really shouldn’t be?—”

“I am,” I interrupt him, my voice firm and unwavering. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anyone.”

Noah studies me carefully. “This isn’t just a chase? Just because she’s the coach’s daughter and off-limits?”

“God, no.” I lean forward, meeting his gaze directly. “The first time I met her, I had no idea who she was. I just knew there was something about her I couldn’t shake.”

There isn’t another person on this planet that I’d rather be with, and if I wasn’t serious about her, then none of this ever would’ve happened. I think we were supposed to meet that night at the club. Something or someone brought us together—not just once, but twice—and that has to mean something.

“She challenges me,” I continue, surprised at how easily the words flow. “Makes me want to be better. Not just a better player, but a better man.”

Noah finally nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Then it will work out. Somehow.” He claps me on the shoulder. “And remember, I’ve been through something like this before, so if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. I know Dunaway better than most people.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him, and he nods and leaves me on the bench by myself. My head’s swirling with thoughts and emotions after the conversation, and for the first time since my injury, I’m almost afraid to stand up because it’s making me feel a little woozy again. I can’t tell if it’s what Noah said, my injury, or both, but I’m not feeling the greatest.

But I’ve got to get it together because I still have a speech to give at the school today. So I scrub my face with my hand and run it through my hair, then force myself up off the bench while I mentally rehearse what I’m going to say.

I’ve been practicing it a lot, timing myself in the mirror and using all the other tips we get for public speaking, but I’ve been distracted with everything that’s been going on, and then I took the hit on the ice, so everything is a little rough around the edges. I could probably cancel or at least reschedule it for a time when I’m feeling more up to it, but I don’t want to let anyone down. And I know I can handle it.

When I got back to my condo last night, Hannah came over and watched me practice one more time.

“You’re overthinking it,” she said to me when I admitted I was nervous, wrapping her arms around me as I stood in front of the mirror. “Just be yourself . That’s who they want to hear from.”

Her words play through my head as I shower quickly and head for the school, which isn’t too far from the arena. I rehearse my lines over and over while I ride, but even though I’ve gone over them a million times at this point, I’m still having trouble with a couple of them. Part of me wonders if that has something to do with the concussion, but there isn’t anything I can really do about it now.

You’re gonna be fine. Just imagine everyone in the crowd is Hannah .

That thought alone brings a smile to my face. She’s already sat and listened to me rehearsing this so many times that she could probably recite it from memory too. I wish she could be with me for the real thing, but she’s busy today, so I’ll just have to settle for replacing everyone in the crowd with her smiling, beautiful face.

I arrive at the school, and when I park the bike, I realize how hard I’ve been gripping the handlebars. Frustrated with myself, I tug off my helmet and scrub a hand through my hair as I engage the kickstand.

Get it together, Murray. You play hockey professionally in front of thousands of people all the time. I think you can handle a few hundred students who probably aren’t paying attention to anything you say anyway.

The last point in particular makes it easy to get over myself. This is nothing compared to what I do almost every night, and even if I totally bomb, it’s not like it’s going to be the end of the world. Still, I stand by my bike and run through the entire speech one more time just to make sure I really have it down and head for the school.

I can’t remember the last time I set foot in a high school, but as soon as I step through the doors, I feel like I’ve walked through a portal into a past time in my life. Even though I’m in a different country from where I grew up, suddenly I feel like I’m right back in school myself. I was always so focused on hockey that I missed out on a lot of the other school stuff, so it’s hard not to feel a little wistful as I walk through the main hall toward the office.

“Good afternoon.” A secretary greets me without looking away from her computer when I step inside to check in. But when she glances over and sees me, she jumps in her seat a little and pushes away from her keyboard. “Oh, Mr. Murray. Welcome to Bear River High.”

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat.

She clearly recognizes me, which is both flattering and nerve-wracking. If the school staff knows who I am, the students definitely will too, which means higher expectations.

“Go ahead and sign in on the form there for me, and I’ll get you a visitor’s badge,” she tells me, pointing at a piece of paper on a clipboard on the counter in front of me. I pick up the pen beside it and scribble my name and signature on it, and by the time I’m done, she’s holding a badge out for me. It’s nothing special, just something I can wear to let other staff know I’m supposed to be here.

“All done?” the secretary asks as she leans over the counter to check my work. I nod and slip the badge over my head. “Great. Follow me. Principal Cyprus wants to meet you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Mrs. Cyprus is the one I’ve been communicating with to organize this whole thing, so that makes sense. The secretary steps out from behind the counter and leads me farther down the hall beyond it until we stop outside a closed office door with the words Principal Julia Cyprus etched into it. The secretary knocks politely.

“Come in,” Mrs. Cyprus calls, so the secretary opens the door and waves me in.

“Mr. Murray is here to see you,” she tells the principal.

Mrs. Cyprus immediately stands to hurry around her desk and shake my hand. She holds it tight, her warm brown eyes sparkling as she smiles at me. “It’s wonderful to meet you! Thank you so much for coming to do this. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, or how much the kids are going to appreciate it.”

I nod, but all I can focus on is the way my blood seems to be rushing in my ears. I can’t remember the last time I felt this anxious. It wasn’t even this bad when I tried out for the Aces, and that was probably the most high-stakes thing I’ve ever done in my life.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Thanks for inviting me,” I say. She releases my hand, and I shove it in my pocket. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

Mrs. Cyprus’s warm smile broadens, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. “Totally understandable. There’s nothing more menacing than a crowd of teenagers.”

I can’t help laughing along with her despite my nerves, because she’s right. I was a teenager once, so I know exactly how ruthless they can be.

But it’s not just the content of my speech I’m worried about. I’ve had my dyslexia under control for a long time and learned a lot of skills to manage it over the years, but I’ve never been asked to read in front of a giant crowd like this before. So I don’t know what’s going to happen. I have the speech memorized just in case I have trouble reading it, but I’m worried my nerves and the lingering symptoms from my concussion might make that difficult too.

“I’ve already called all the students to the auditorium for the assembly. Are you ready, or do you need a few minutes?” Mrs. Cyprus asks.

Despite the lump in my throat, I shrug. “Nope, I’m ready now.”

She must sense my lingering nerves, because she puts a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, I’ve seen you play. I don’t think you have anything to worry about with these kids. And I’ll be there to keep them in line if they get too rowdy.”

“Thanks. I’ll take all the emotional support I can get. I’m a hockey player, not a motivational speaker.”

Mrs. Cyprus chuckles and pats my arm. “I’d give you the age-old advice to just pretend everyone is in their underwear, but that would be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?”

That pulls another laugh out of me, and when she smiles again, I realize what she’s up to with all the joking because I feel way more comfortable now.

“Alright. Let’s go knock their socks off,” she says with a wink.

She leads me through the school and into the auditorium where hundreds of students are already packed into the theater-style seats. The school must be well resourced because everything looks new and well maintained, which is saying something when a bunch of teenagers are using the equipment.

A hush ripples through the audience when they see me walk in and start striding down the aisle toward the stage, no doubt because they all recognize me, but it only makes the nerves I thought I’d gotten rid of come rushing back.

Because this is real now. This is happening. Now that I’m in the auditorium, I can’t leave until I’ve gotten through my speech or dashed off the stage in embarrassment. But Mrs. Cyprus was right—there’s nothing quite as terrifying as having hundreds of students’ eyes on you at once. Not even the most packed hockey game I’ve played with the Aces comes close.

Just be yourself, Murray. That’s what they wanted when they asked you to come here. Everything else will fall into place .

Despite the way my heart is lodged in my throat, making it difficult to breathe and swallow, I take a few quick, deep breaths to steady myself and run through some of my lines one more time in my head. When I glance over at Mrs. Cyprus, she’s smiling slightly, and she nods at me.

“You’ve got this,” she mouths as she gestures toward the stage.

My eyes follow her hand, but I can’t seem to make my feet move. I just stand there, frozen, knowing that everyone in the auditorium is watching me and waiting for me to get up there and say something. I blink a few times, then imagine Hannah standing on the stage steps, beckoning me up toward her.

That’s all it takes. With a new sense of confidence, I stride forward with my head held high and my shoulders back. I’m not just going to give this speech, I’m going to crush it to make Hannah proud. And to hopefully show Dunaway and the rest of the world that there’s so much more to me than just my skills on the ice.

I take the stairs two at a time, then turn to walk toward the podium where there’s already a live mic mounted and waiting for me. It takes a few minutes for all the chatter to die down after I step in front of the podium with Mrs. Cyprus right behind me, but when it does, she steps up and taps the mic a few times to make sure it’s working.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming,” she says, her voice booming throughout the auditorium. For some reason, I didn’t take into account that I’d be hearing my own voice while I was speaking. That makes me flinch a little, but I’ll get through it. No one likes the sound of their own voice.

“While I’m sure our guest today needs no introduction—he’s a bit of a local hero at the moment—I’d like to formally welcome Declan Murray, the newest member of the Denver Aces. Let’s give him a warm Bear River welcome!”

The students clap as requested but don’t go crazy, which makes me wonder if they really do know who I am, or if they just think I’m some random guy who came to lecture them just like the rest of their teachers.

Mrs. Cyprus keeps hyping me up, giving a bit of backstory to the kids about how I spent years grinding before I finally got my big break with the Aces. I try to stay focused on her words, but my nerves are getting to me and making it difficult to stay right here in this room. I don’t know where I’m going, but I feel like I’m drifting away.

It’s not until Mrs. Cyprus extends an arm and beckons me forward that I realize it’s showtime. Panicked, I reach into my pocket for the folded piece of paper with my speech scribbled on it and step up to the podium to drop the piece of paper on the little shelf. I clear my throat and take a look out at the crowd, which is a mistake because it makes my palms even sweatier than they already are.

It’s fine. They’re just hundreds of copies of Hannah, remember?

Nodding to encourage myself, I discreetly wipe my palms on my pants and lean closer to the mic.

“Hello, everyone. Thanks so much for having me.” The auditorium instantly falls silent, and every pair of eyes in the place locks on to me. It’s so quiet in the cavernous space that I can hear a faint buzzing coming from somewhere, probably the audio system. Someone at the back of the crowd coughs.

“It’s kind of crazy to be up here, honestly,” I start. “If anyone had asked me even a year ago if I thought I’d be doing something like this, I would’ve said, ‘absolutely not.’ But here I am.” I unfold the paper containing my speech, and the mic picks up the crinkling as I smooth it out, carrying it through the entire auditorium. But I might as well have skipped bringing the notes because just like I feared might happen, the letters are swimming all over the page in front of me—and everything I thought I’d memorized runs right out of my ears as panic pools inside me.

“I—I started my journey into hockey many years ago, and pretty much everyone around me thought I was crazy for daring to think I’d make it to the NHL someday. It wasn’t easy but…” I trail off as I try to focus on the words, but it’s like the letters on the page don’t want to be seen. They hide behind each other or run from my gaze, turning into an indecipherable alphabet soup.

Shit, this is a trainwreck. Snap out of it!

I clear my throat again. “Sorry, my notes got a little messed up so it’s hard to read.”

It’s not the full truth of why I’m having such a hard time reading my own writing, but it’s close enough. When I glance back up at the crowd and see everyone staring blankly at me, some of them whispering to each other, my heart hammers so hard in my chest that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out right here at the podium.

But then, impossibly, I see Hannah in the crowd.

At first I think I’m imagining things or having some kind of anxiety-induced hallucination, but when she smiles at me, I realize she’s actually here. I don’t know how she got here—she said she was going to be busy with school stuff today—but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is she’s really here and somehow that gives me the courage to say what I really want to say.

“You know what? Forget this,” I say, tearing the piece of paper into several shreds, eliciting confused laughter from the audience. “I was going to get up here and talk about all my struggles and the journey to this point, but it’s not authentic. Here’s the deal: I’m dyslexic. And that’s exactly why I’m having a hard time reading this speech.”

Another round of hushed whispers rushes through the audience, and even Hannah looks at me with wide eyes. But after a beat, she nods like she’s encouraging me, and I feel my heart swell in my chest. Because if she accepts me, then nothing else matters. And I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I was encouraging her to live authentically and honestly if I wasn’t doing the same thing.

The truth is, I’m not ashamed of having dyslexia. Why should I be? It makes certain things more difficult for me, but it doesn’t define me any more than being a hockey player does. It’s just one part of who I am. Hannah sees that. She likes me for the entirety of who I am, not despite it.

“It’s true. It’s been a constant battle, ever since I was little. A lot of people didn’t think I was ever going to amount to anything because of it, but I did. And I’m here to tell you that every single one of you can do the same thing, no matter what anyone else says. I know it sounds simple, and that’s because it is when you boil it down, but all you have to do is find what matters to you, what really matters, and hold on to it tight. Because once you know what you want, everything else becomes clear and falls right into place.”

My gaze lands back on Hannah, who’s beaming at me with one hand pressed lightly to her chest. She has to know I’m talking about her, even if no one else in the room does. It strikes me what the point of this speech really was all along—being honest with myself about how I’m feeling for her.

“So whatever you decide to do when you leave here, make sure it’s something that matters. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks—not your friends, not your family—because at the end of the day, it’s your life and you only get the one to live. You might as well do what makes you happy, what you really want to do. For me, one of my dreams was hockey. I never let go of it, no matter how many people told me I should or that I was never going to make it. I can’t wait to see the rest of you do the same thing. Thank you.”

I step back from the podium and the audience erupts in cheers and applause. The principal hurries over and puts her hand on my shoulder, then takes the mic to thank me and the students for coming. We’re doing a meet and greet afterward for anyone who wants pictures with me, but it’s going to take some time for that to get set up, so I make a beeline down the aisle toward Hannah.

She steps forward to meet me, and I pull her into my arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I murmur. “But I’m so fucking glad you are. I don’t think I would’ve made it through without you.”

“Did you really think I’d miss this?” She gives me a radiant smile. “I skipped class to come and watch. Besides, it’s like you said, when you know what you want, everything is clear.”

Unable to resist, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, not caring who sees. Because I am head over heels for this woman.