Broken promises, p.2
Broken Promises, page 2
My hands shake so badly that I drop my phone. It immediately starts vibrating, and I scramble to pick it up. Declan’s name and the picture I took of him a few years ago after one of his games, his brown hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, green eyes shining, and his smile bright as always, flashes across the screen. It takes a few tries of shaky swiping to answer the call.
“Dec,” I breathe, throat tight with barely withheld tears.
“I’m okay, Princess,” his soothing voice comes through. I let out the breath I was holding and with it comes the tears. “I’m so sorry, Willa. I swear I’m okay.”
“You need to stop this, Declan!” I whisper-shout into my phone. I need him to understand how serious I am, but I don’t want to wake everyone else up. I angrily swipe the tears away while wishing I could reach through the phone and strangle him.
“No one was hurt. I was just trying to figure out how to do something. I swear I made sure no one was around first.”
“This is the third accident, Dec! The third!”
“Hey, the other two were —”
“Stop! Please stop all this Declan. You need to grow up. It’s not funny anymore,” I beg him. He sighs loudly, and I can hear his footsteps. I bet he’s pacing right now.
“Princess —”
“Don’t even try to soften this with nicknames, Declan,” I say, interrupting him again. “Do you understand how hard it is to constantly see your best friend ripped apart in the media? Then, to make it worse, you give them more fodder for their bullshit fire.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The pacing has stopped.
“You’re the best person I know. Why are you trying so hard to be someone else?” I ask as calmly as I can.
“I’ve been like this for years, Willa. Maybe it is who I am.” I can hear the defeat in his voice. I stare at the gray floor of the bus, watching the lights come and go as we pass by street lamps. Declan is lost, but can someone who feels just as lost as he does help him?
“I know who you are, Dec. Even if you don’t. I’ll remind you every damn day if I need to.”
“You’re my best friend forever and ever and ever.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re mine too, hockey boy.”
“Thanks for the kick in the ass, Princess.”
“Just do better, Dec. If I get another notification in the middle of the night that gives me a heart attack, I’m going to kill you myself.”
“I’ll work on it. I promise,” he says. It’s the best I’m going to get right now, so I let it go.
“I’m going back to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Sweet dreams, Princess.”
“Good night, hockey boy.”
I slowly shuffle back to my bunk, my heart rate finally back to normal. Glancing over at Mav’s bunk, I see him leaning out of the curtain and staring at me. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I shrug. He holds my gaze for a moment before shutting his curtain. The good thing about Maverick is he never asks questions.
Sleep is fitful at best. My dreams are filled with images of my best friend going up in a fiery blaze.
TWO
declan
Every inch of me is covered in sweat as I continue to push myself to the limit on the treadmill. After the call with Willa last night, I’ve been feeling like more of an asshole than usual. Willa doesn’t cry, yet she did last night. I made her cry. I haven’t been able to stop myself from hearing the sound of her sobs.
A tanned forearm reaches over and slams on the red stop button before I can stop it.
“What the hell, man? I wasn’t done!” I shout at Hank. Well, I try to shout. I can barely catch my breath. He just rolls his eyes and points to a bench on the wall. I follow him and take a seat.
“What’s going on? You ran over ten miles,” he says, his eyes assessing my every move. Hank is our captain and the best defenseman in the league. I tip my head back and rest it on the wall behind me. We’re the only two in the team’s gym right now. Which means I’m not getting out of this interrogation.
“I was sore. I came to stretch out my muscles and felt good enough for a long run,” I say and peek at him. The scowl on his face tells me he doesn’t buy it.
“So the accident yesterday didn’t injure you enough to prevent running?”
“You heard about that, huh?” I ask with a half-hearted laugh. Hank is still scowling. I sigh and sit forward, resting my elbows on my thighs and clenching my hands together. “Willa chewed me out for that last night. I know I fucked up. I’m going to do better. I don’t need to hear it from you too.”
I chance a look at him to see surprise briefly flash across his face before he schools his features back into a scowl. “It’s not the first time she hasn’t been happy with you.”
He’s not wrong. Willa has been less than impressed with some of my antics over the years. Hank has even overheard her yelling at me over the phone more than once. But I hear the question he’s asking. What makes this time any different?
“She cried, man. Willa doesn’t cry,” I admit, shame flooding my body. He nods in understanding.
“Any word on that contract?” he asks. I shake my head. My contract expires before the next season starts in two months. Usually they expire at the end of a season, but mine was different. I’m usually contracted for camps or media appearances for the team in the off-season. They hadn’t wanted me for those much in the past few years.
“I’ve been with this team for nine seasons. Are they really going to make me sweat like this?” I ask him. I don’t like the look of pity he gives me.
“After what happened with Bethany, I’m surprised you’re not out on your ass already.”
I roll my eyes. “Going into this, I told her that it would be one night. It’s not my fault she didn’t understand what that meant,” I argue. Sleep with one wrong person one time and apparently you can tank your whole career.
“What am I going to do? No other team seems to be trying to get me and the one I’ve given everything to is fine throwing me away,” I ask, desperately hoping he has an answer.
“Retire,” he says.
“Thanks, but I’d rather do it on my terms,” I grumble, standing and walking away from the unhelpful bastard.
“Then figure out a way to do it on your own terms,” he calls after me.
Great. Super easy.
THREE
willa
NOW
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Harlow asks. She’s following some lead in New Hampshire that might help us with Ezra’s case. Cal and Cora are going with her as well as Belle and Kai. I look behind me at Maverick’s door. With every new revelation, it feels like he’s been beaten down further and further.
“I’m going to stay,” I say, and she nods. She glances over her shoulder at Mav’s house, concern etched in her features. Harlow has one of the biggest hearts, and I know she’s struggling with looking into Ezra because of how it’s affecting Maverick. “I’ve got him. Just try to bring home good news this time,” I joke.
Harlow laughs. “I’ll try my best.”
I watch them drive away. I make my way up the path to Maverick’s house. Jo is still staying with me, and she’s immersed in all her work for the band right now. So I try to give her space. She’s tried to move out several times, but after what happened to Harlow, she was kind of forced to continue living in my guest room. It’s nice to have someone else in the house. I’ve lived alone for a long time and sometimes the silence can be suffocating.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask, stepping into the house and shutting the door behind me.
“I already have plans, Willa,” Maverick says, looking slightly annoyed.
“You’re ditching me?” I feign hurt.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Not babysitting. Jo is busy at my house, and Belle is on her way to prance in the woods like a fairy.”
Maverick chuckles. “Feel free to hang out here then.” He walks around me and opens the front door.
“Wait. You’re really leaving?” I ask. I assumed he made up plans because he hates how he feels like a burden to us. I’ve been trying to be better about making him feel like that. It’s hard not to worry about him, though.
“Yeah, I’m meeting with Millie. I want to see how I can help with her charity stuff. My mom might not want to admit my dad hit her, but I saw the proof of it growing up. Plus, after what Brad did to Belle,” he shrugs. “I just want to do something.”
I nod in understanding. Millie is Belle and Cal’s cousin, and she runs a charity that focuses on getting more shelters up and running for women and children fleeing from bad situations. “Do you want me to come with you?” He shakes his head. I sigh dramatically, which makes him laugh.
“I’m sure you can entertain yourself for a few hours,” he says before leaving me alone in his house.
I look around and realize that I don’t know when the last time I was alone was. “I actually don’t think I know what to do with myself right now,” I tell the empty house.
My phone rings in my pocket. “Perfect timing,” I say to the walls.
“Hey hockey boy.”
“Hey, Princess. How’s the tour going?” I smile at the sound of Declan’s voice.
This is exactly what I needed.
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.
