Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

36. Declan

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

declan

She avoided me all morning.

It is quite a talent, and she is exceptionally good at it. Every room that I was in, she was miraculously missing from. If I was at one end of the table, she was as far away as she could physically be. She spent all morning cooking with Seth, which I know was for her benefit because Seth would rather stick his head in the oven than share kitchen space.

She is trying to keep this civil. That should relax me, but it does the opposite. I’m on edge. I find myself avoiding looking at her all together, only stealing glances when I know she’s too engrossed in another conversation to clock me.

I’d rather have her scream at me. At least then, she’s talking. I was not expecting ‘civil’ to not be enough.

I am so angry with her that my chest hurts, but then I look at her and can’t help but wonder if that anger is even worth it. I miss her. Not being able to really look at her has only made me realize how truly stunning that girl is. It’s an agonizing kind of beauty. It hurts to look at her, but it feels way worse not to see her at all. I’d choose misery for eternity if it meant she would at least smile at me again.

Honey-coloured hair falling down her back in effortless, loose curls. A small, but perfect mouth that is quick and witty and sinful. Soft, too. I remember just how soft.

And her damn eyes.

They’re the stormiest blue I’ve ever seen. Never seen another pair like them. Even if I had, they wouldn’t be the same. The soul behind them is different, and I think that’s why I can’t wait for the day they look my way again.

I’ve loved those eyes since I shouldn’t have, and now that I have had a chance to see them more intimately, I’m a fucking sucker for them. Even if she’s glaring at me, I feel blessed that she’s willing to look at me. It’s like pulling teeth to get her to look in my direction anymore.

As Seth kindly pointed out, I’m fucked.

I look away from her, focusing back on the conversation that EJ and Seth are having on either side of me. I guess I’m in this conversation too by proxy, but I haven’t been paying much attention.

I’m trying not to fixate on how Wyatt and Penny have been circling each other all day, always within arm’s reach of one another. I’m trying to pretend that I haven’t noticed it’s a bit different this time around with them. But I’ve definitely noticed, and it’s starting to piss me off.

I wonder for a moment if he knows all that happened between us.

Then again, Wyatt would have said something about it already. I have no doubt about it. Wyatt would kill someone for any of us, but he’s had a soft spot for her since he met her. I’m sure he would have made his opinion known by now if he knew.

So no, he’s just gravitating toward her because he wants to, not to prove a point. Somehow that’s worse. It doesn’t skip my mind that this is the first time she’s been single in almost a decade. Wyatt has barely dated in all of that time.

A sinking feeling roots in my gut.

Maybe he’s been waiting for this moment for a while now.

Kindly. As a friend. Being there whenever she needed it and only giving his opinion when she asked for it.

The opposite of what I’ve done.

I force a breath through my nose. The alcohol isn’t helping. I was hoping it would calm me, but I can feel my temper rising in my blood. She can avoid me all she wants but we’re eventually going to have to speak. Wyatt and Avery can’t be her human shields forever.

This town is only so big. This friend group is even smaller.

EJ takes a big swig of his Cesar. Hair of the dog, he said. He feels better now, so it must be working. I wish that cure worked for me. I still feel like shit, and I’ve been drinking the heaviest out of everyone.

I run a hand over my face.

Seth catches my eye, cocking a brow.

EJ’s still talking, but the last thing I need is for him to catch on.

I just shake my head. I don’t want to get into this right now. Not at all during the holidays, to be honest. Not in front of EJ, either.

“You’re going to bring it home if you win, right?” EJ asks, biting into his garnish. “Have a party or something? I’ve got to touch it man. I’ve got to kiss it.”

They’re talking about the Stanley Cup, about me winning the cup.

“You can only kiss it if you win it,” Seth says, tossing a grape in his mouth.

I watch him and my mind whirls, remembering Penny and those fucking cinnamon rolls that he’d made her this morning. I don’t know what he put in them, but she tore a piece off, popped it in her mouth and the sounds she made… my god .

I mean seriously, if there is a god, she is really fucking testing me right now.

I had to leave the room. I was transported right back to that hotel suite, to being on top of her, and watching her fall apart in my arms. I almost lost my mind. I don’t care if it was a hazelnut latte flavoured cinnamon roll—that was not fair. I was mad at her for over an hour for reacting like that over a pastry because she sent all the blood rushing right to my dick.

God, I am fucked.

The thought of talking to her makes me want to die, but not talking to her is slowly killing me anyway. I think Seth might have been right. I feel something for her now. I don’t know when it changed from friendship to something different, but I know it was before I was granted the privilege of kissing her.

I realize that now.

That night just sent those feelings up into the fucking stratosphere.

Now it’s almost all I can think about.

It’s easier when I’m in Pittsburgh. I just put all my energy into my game and try to forget that things are different outside of it. I rewire my brain into thinking life at home will be the same when I get there. It’s the only way I can keep myself from losing my mind. I just act like she hasn’t taken it over. It’s harder when those eyes are in the room with me.

“If I win it, you can kiss it,” I say, patting EJ on the back. He lights up, his eyes full of child-like hope.

Even Seth looks a bit thrilled at the idea. He tries to hide it, probably for my own benefit. He knows the amount of pressure that sits on my shoulders whenever they talk about the cup. At one point, it was a dream for all of us. I’ve wanted to pull this off for them since I entered the league.

“If it happens, it’s going to be a bloodbath trying to get tickets,” Seth adds.

I nod.

I only get a limited number of tickets. I don’t want to jinx it by thinking that far in advance, but I have been thinking about it. A lot. I’d want all of them there. They support me just as heavily as my parents do, and that is a whole lot of support.

Wyatt stalks my stats like I’m Lemieux or something, like everything I do deserves to be hung on the fridge. He gives me shit, but he is my loudest cheerleader at the same time.

Hell, none of them ever even really miss a game.

They have to be there. If I’m there, they will be too.

My eyes flicker toward Penny across the table.

She has to be there.

Fighting or not, she’s been a part of this since the beginning.

“I’ve thought about that,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “If that were to ever happen, I don’t know how many tickets each player would get.”

Truth is, I’ve never let myself think about it for too long. It’s like if I do, it’ll never come to fruition. Superstitions really trip up my life sometimes.

“Obviously if we get two, those are going to mom and pops,” I continue, lowering my glass back to the table. “But if I’m ever in a final, I’ll buy you guys the tickets. All of you. One way or another, you’ll be there.”

EJ’s brows skyrocket. “Do you know how?—”

“Yeah, Eej. I know how expensive they are.”

“We could get our own. We would get our own,” Seth says, fishing for more grapes.

“You could, but I guarantee I’ll have better seats,” I flash a megawatt smile. What hockey players could deny seats close to the glass at a final? “Plus, I’m sure they’ll give me some kind of deal since I’m on the team. They’ve got to give us something.”

Don’t know if they would. Wouldn’t tell them if they wouldn’t.

I hate talking about money, but I make millions now.

Wyatt’s a local coach, Seth is an accountant, and EJ makes good money at the mines, but not that much money. Avery and Lauren are teachers. Penny works in marketing. Tiffany is a dental hygienist who bartends a couple of nights a week . It wouldn’t put me out to grab tickets for them. I’d never want to put them into financial stress just to show up and support me. Paying for those tickets is the least I could do to have them there.

“Better start saving then,” EJ smirks, smacking a hand onto my shoulder. “Because you’re winning the cup this year. I can smell it in the air.”

I really wish they’d stop saying that.

“We’ll see.”

I want it too badly to allow myself to hope. It’s the only thing I’ve dreamt about since I was a kid. Literally, the only thing. I didn’t want cars or money or a wife and kids. I wanted the pros and the cup. I would have played for free if I got to put on that jersey every night. It’s what any kid who pulled skates on their feet and fell in love with the game dreams about.

Sometimes, it still doesn’t feel like I’ve actually made it. I have these out of body experiences where I sit back and realize that I did it. I’m in the big leagues. I’m playing for Pittsburgh. Fans have jerseys with my name on the back. That roaring crowd is for me.

But I did make it. I’ve almost achieved every dream that I’ve ever dared to dream.

Besides the cup.

My eyes flicker across the table again.

Besides a couple of things.

“Oh!” Avery says, clapping her hands together.

All attention goes to her when she stands. I allow myself a brief second to skim my eyes over Penny, right beside her twin. She is whispering to Wyatt, a small, mischievous smile on her mouth.

He tilts his head back and laughs at whatever she’s said.

Oh, please. What’s so funny, Wyatt?

It’s decided. He doesn’t get to kiss the cup. He can look at it, but only from far away. He gets one picture, and it can only be a selfie.

“We have to pick names! Lauren, can you pull for Tiff?”

Lauren wipes her hands on a napkin. “Yeah, of course.”

Where is Tiffany? I don’t ask because I try not to inquire about her more than I have to. I put us all in a weird position with that one and now that it stopped being morbidly uncomfortable, I’m not willing to push us back there.

I almost laugh at myself.

As if I didn’t do something worse with the blonde across the table.

Avery rushes to her perfect tree and back, shaking a gold, glittery box in her hand. She smiles wide, wiggling her brows, mixing the names repeatedly with each toss before she reaches down and passes the box to Penny.

Penny stares down at the folded-up pieces of paper like they’re a stick of dynamite. She smiles tight, all eyes on her.

I take a sip of my drink, trying my hardest not to stare at her and read too hard into things, but I’ve memorized that face since I was nineteen years old. I know the look in her eyes when she’s angry. I can see it in her face when she’s upset. I know a fake smile from a real one .

The one on her face right now? Fake.

She digs her hand through the box and chooses a name, passing the rest of them over to Wyatt. She brings the little white slip close to her face and opens it, quickly folding it again and dropping it to her lap. That phony smile is still on her face. She swallows, her eyes flickering in my direction.

Fuck. Caught.

Whatever. I hold her stare, because I’m not about to take any second she’ll look at me for granted. My heart stills when she offers me a sad little smile, like she’s sorry that we’ve ended up here. My face must fall, because she tears her eyes away a second later.

The box goes from hand to hand until it gets to me. I force myself to watch each person select their tiny slip of paper instead of looking anywhere near Penny, but I don’t have to look at her to notice that she has gone quiet again. She placed that little piece of paper in her lap and instantly reached for another cinnamon bun.

I dig through the box. There are only a few slips left. I pinch one between my fingers, passing the box to EJ, who rubs his hands excitedly.

As EJ ponders which paper out of two to choose, I lower my own to my lap and open it.

Wyatt.

Of course.

I fold it up again.

This is good. Wyatt is easy. Even though he’s pissing me off tonight.

EJ hands the box back to Avery. She takes the last name left and makes a show of opening it, letting out a happy little gasp, and nodding dramatically.

“Fifty dollar spending cap. Exchange on Thursday. Everyone brings a bottle and a snack.” She announces the rules like they haven’t been the same for almost a decade now.

“Thanks, babe!” Seth shouts, raising his beer bottle.

Everyone cheers along with him, joining in and lifting their glasses to her. Avery smiles, rolling her eyes but eating up the attention. She even does a little spin that ends with a curtsy.

I huff a laugh, taking a sip of my drink.

I watch out of the corner of my eye, even when I turn back to Seth and feign interest in the conversation. I watch as Avery places her hand on Penny’s shoulder, and as Penny casually reaches up to wrap her fingers around Avery’s. I watch those two little papers swap hands, as smooth as two card dealers rigging the system. I watch Avery take her new name and slide it into the pocket of her jeans, and I watch Penny drop hers in her lap.

I watch her smile, a real one—a relieved one. She takes a big, heavy breath, like Avery just removed a weight from her shoulders.

I always thought that being traded from Pittsburgh was my worst nightmare.

I stand corrected. Being traded here, on a little white piece of paper, feels much, much worse.