Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

56. Declan

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

declan

The whole drive home was spent wondering if I was dreaming. I literally pinched my thigh like, ten times, until it started to go a little numb so I figured I should probably quit it before I got nerve damage. I just cannot believe that she’s here. In my car. In Pittsburgh. Talking to me.

Looking at me.

I am not ashamed to admit that for the entirety of the drive, I kept looking over at her from the corner of my eye, watching her take in the streets of Pittsburgh with a dazed interest, so in her own head that she didn’t feel the weight of my stare.

I don’t know if she’s actually admiring the city or if that pretty little mind of hers is a bit too loud to do that right now.

I was completely thrown off guard seeing her in the one place she didn’t belong. At my rink, in my city, at my game. I don’t think I’ve ever let my brain compute that her being here could actually happen. I shouldn’t say she doesn't belong in these places . In more ways than most, she does. In my mind, she belongs anywhere that I do.

I just wasn’t expecting to see her here. It feels monumental, and I don’t know why. I hope I am slowly piecing together why, but I refuse to get my hopes up on this one. This feels like it means more than a conversation, more than an apology, but damn—did one ever feel good.

My brain short circuited when I walked out of the dressing room. It took me a second to realize that yes, Penny Sweeten was standing outside of my locker room looking painfully nervous, waiting for me . It wasn’t a figment of my imagination. I wasn’t just putting her face on every pretty girl that lingers around the rink.

No. One flash of those stormy blues and there was no doubt about it.

It’s a bit of a blur, really. But once the apologies slid off her lips like the sweet, comforting caress of her fingers, I realized how much I needed them. The second she said those few, simple words, was the very second that I forgave her.

I just needed her to acknowledge that what she did hurt me, and she needed to be willing to have the tough conversations to sort this out.

She did. She is.

That’s all there is to it. It’s that easy.

Pulling up to my condo and putting the vehicle into park, I can’t seem to find my voice. I flash her a gentle smile when she glances my way and take my time getting out of the car while she tentatively undoes her seatbelt.

She’s nervous.

I know her.

She doesn’t like being vulnerable and she practically gave me her pride and her ego on a silver platter. Now she’s doing the death march straight toward the consequences.

She’s going to run.

I don’t want her to run. I want her to fight. For this. For whatever this is between us. I’ll let her make up her mind if she’ll just walk into this building with me. If she wants to sit in the car for another hour, we can do that too, as long as the end result is this conversation.

But Penny is brave as fuck, and she steps out of the car. She pushes her shoulders back and holds her chin high, meeting my eyes when I round the back end of the vehicle. I extend my arm to her and nod toward the entrance.

Dipping her chin, she walks right to my side, into that little cove she fits in so well.

I guide her into my building, my hand on her back. Hoping with each step that she doesn’t turn around.

When we step out of the elevator and walk into my penthouse, Penny takes it all in.

She slowly turns. “Wow.”

I don’t want to ask her if she likes it, that seems a bit corny. It’s a nice place. Anyone would like it. Big, clean, with very little personal touches. It looks like the home from a magazine spread. The view is fucking insane too, which I think she’ll appreciate.

I like the place, which is why I bought it, but it’s never really felt like home.

I can’t look away from her. Her smile grows, peering up at the modern chandelier hanging above her head.

Maybe it could feel like home. One day.

Sensing the weight of my attention, she turns to me. That wondrous smile shrinks a bit.

“You played well tonight.”

I don’t care about my game. For the first time in a long time, I don’t care about hockey. It’s the last thing on my mind when those eyes are looking at me again instead of looking straight through me.

I take off my hat, tossing it on the counter. Hearing those words from her mouth is the second-best thing she’s said tonight. That little kid who was head over heels in love with hockey still lives inside of me somewhere, right next to that thirty-year-old guy who is head over heels in love with the girl in front of him.

Hearing someone praise my talent never really gets old.

Impressing the girl who holds my heart in the palm of her hand? Even better.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says so softly, I barely hear it.

Fuck, I love her eyes. I love the way they’re looking at me right now. Uncertain. Bare. Nervous.

I swallow. Don’t think about her eyes. Not yet, you bonehead. Those eyes will be your undoing. They always have been.

“Want a glass of wine?” It seems like a nice thing to say. I’m being a good host. That’s what I’d do if it was anyone else in my doorway.

Penny fiddles with the sleeves of her coat. She shrugs. “Sure.”

We walk into the kitchen, and she seems to know exactly where to go. I’m surprised how much I like that. She shrugs off her coat and takes a seat across the island from me, perching her butt on the very edge of the barstool.

I’m immediately transported back to that night in the hotel room. It makes my heart skip a beat. That’s a dangerous place to go right now. It has the power to derail this conversation completely. Thinking about that night will make me think of other things that happened, and then what?

How am I supposed to talk this out if I’m thinking of her mouth, of those eyes looking up at me while I stand by the foot of the bed?

I rub the back of my neck, passing her a glass of white, just like I passed her the small bottle that night. I open my beer the same way I did in that hotel room, and I lean toward her on my elbows—just like I had then.

Oh, I’m fucked.

We stare at each other, stormy blues burning a hole straight through my heart. She brings her glass of wine to her lips, her hand trembling slightly, though she’s trying to hide it.

Yeah. She’s nervous.

Good. I’m terrified.

But we have to start somewhere. She made the big move to show up and apologize, and I’m a fair man. I guess it’s my turn.

“You can’t cut me out again,” I say after a long moment. Her face falls and she averts her eyes to her wine glass. “After this conversation, whatever way it goes. I need you in my life, P. You can’t cut me out.”

She swallows, her eyes soft as she focuses on anything but me. “I won’t.”

“That killed me,” I tell her. It’s a hard admission. I don’t like saying it aloud, but it’s the truth and it’s time she knows it.

Her eyes flicker up to mine. Unshed tears, which I just caused, stare back at me. I didn’t like it when I made her cry months ago, and I don’t particularly like how it feels now, even if it’s necessary.

“I know. You were saying a lot of things that I wasn’t ready to hear. I did everything I could so that I’d never have to hear you say them again.”

“But even after that,” I say. “We slept together. That night changed everything. But still, you kept cutting me out.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “It felt like the easier path at the time.”

She clears her throat as her voice breaks. I want to fucking hold her, to promise her that this conversation is not a death sentence. We’ll both survive this.

She blinks a bunch, taking another shaky sip of wine .

Shit. She’s teetering on losing it. I can see the panic brewing in her eyes, the way she’s rooting herself to the chair so that she doesn’t bolt.

She’s being so fucking brave. She’s being so fucking vulnerable. To salvage this. Something about that is so incredibly beautiful. To anyone who knows her, knows that heart of hers, this is her biggest fear. This. Right here. This conversation.

I know how to help her. I know her better than she thinks I do. I might not have had the pleasure of being with her for the past ten years, but I have loved her all the same and for longer. I know her, even the parts of her she tries to hide. I’ve been there, by her side, for over a decade.

That’s a long time spent memorizing a person.

I have to make her feel safe. I need to remind her that whatever her brain was convincing her of when she made all these decisions—it wasn’t true. It still isn’t. It’s never going to be. Not with me.

“I wouldn’t have woken up and regretted it,” I tell her, recalling what she had screamed at me that night at Seth’s. What she admitted was her biggest fear that morning. “Not for a second. I wouldn’t have let you leave without talking to me, even if you wanted to. I wanted more, P. I wanted you .”

I still want you.

A sharp breath leaves her. Her eyes flutter shut, almost like she’s in pain.

Did I mention how much I hate this?

Her throat bobs, eyes still closed. “But what if you didn’t?”

I raise my brows, angling my head. “What do you mean?”

“What if you didn’t?” she repeats quietly, finally looking at me. Her fingers play with the stem of her wine glass, twirling it. “I just had my heart broken. I was told that he wasn’t proud to be with me, that he never loved me. Can you imagine if you woke up and told me it was a mistake? ”

I stare at her, trying to put myself in her shoes.

I understand where she’s coming from. She’s not in my head. She couldn’t have known what I was thinking that night or the morning that followed. She couldn’t have seen how I dreamt of her. It wasn’t as clear for her as it was for me. I don’t blame her for her actions that night or immediately after. I never have. It’s everything that happened in the long run.

“I tried to show you that it wasn’t like that,” I remind her gently. “I texted. I called. I tried .”

“I know,” she whispers. She brings her hand to her face. “I have no excuse that warrants how I treated you. I just did what I thought would result in the least amount of fallout. It was selfish. I was protecting what was left of my heart, Dec. I don’t think I stopped to consider that it might hurt you.”

And her voice breaks, right then. On that last syllable. She looks away, because it’s easier than looking me in the eyes when she falls apart.

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching across the island. I stretch my hand toward her. She glances at it, eyes wide and sad and beautiful. It takes her a second, but then she’s reaching for me too, sliding her hand into mine where it fits perfectly. “It’s my fault, too. All of this.”

She forces a smile, tears pooling in her eyes. She shakes her head. “It’s not.”

It is. She just feels too guilty to see that.

I brush my thumb against her hand. “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

I’m not going to lie to her. She did hurt me. I was angry as all hell, but I forgive her. I will keep forgiving her. As long as she means it when she asks for my forgiveness.

She hides her mouth behind the heel of her hand, trying to stifle her emotions. “I was never mad at you. Not really.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I grin, wide and bright. It’s all just a ploy to make her smile.

I really hate seeing her cry. Did I mention that?

“Of course it’s a yes.” She sniffles with a sassy little roll of her eyes. She wipes her face and shoots me a glare that I know she doesn’t mean. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready to grovel.”

“You don’t need to grovel.” I laugh under my breath, dropping her hand.

“I do. I was an asshole,” she says with a sigh. “I really am sorry. About all of it. You deserved better. I should have been a better friend to you.”

“And I shouldn’t have slept with you,” I say and her face falls like I’ve smacked her. I immediately lurch forward, nearly throwing myself across the island. “Let me rephrase that. I shouldn’t have slept with you then. Not if I wasn’t prepared for that reaction. I didn’t give you a lot of room for grace, Penny.”

She stares at me for a long moment, blue eyes still brimming with tears—but they’re no longer falling. She’s lost in her own head, and I can practically hear the gears turning, convincing her of things that aren’t true.

I wish she’d just believe the things that come out of my mouth. I wish she wasn’t conditioned to look for hidden messages that aren’t there.

Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run.

Stay with me.

“I didn’t mean what I said that night at Avery’s,” she says. “I don’t think it was a mistake. Not that night. Everything else, yes. But never that night.”

My chest flutters to life. That’s what I needed to hear. It’s what I wanted more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life . Just as much as she didn’t want me to regret her, the idea of her regretting me makes me want to keel over and die.

A small smile tugs on my lips. “No?”

“No.”

We look at each other for a long moment. I watch those perfect eyes warm with affection as she drinks me in. They soften, seeing the way I do at her words. God, I have been dying for this moment since the first time I kissed her. I missed those eyes. I missed seeing kindness in them. I knew I was fucked then, and I know I’m fucked now. They will be my downfall. I’ll never win another argument again if it’s them I’m up against.

“Can we move forward now, Lucky?”

She leans forward on her elbows, her hands intertwined under her chin. She nods just enough for me to clock it. “Please.”

I let out a long breath of relief, tipping my head to the ceiling and shutting my eyes. I can feel her roll her eyes at my dramatics, but I don’t care. I’m not done, and it’s about to get a hell of a lot worse.

“Thank god ,” I groan, still staring at the ceiling. “Because I’m ridiculously in love with you, and that kind of means that I need you to start talking to me again. Preferably on a regular basis.”

There it is. There’s that bomb that’s been ticking in my chest for the last fucking year. I surgically removed it from my body and gave it to her.

I say it plainly. I had to say it. I needed it off my chest and in her hands.

I drop my head back to look at her, my nerves skyrocketing with each beat of silence.

Her eyes are wide, stunned. It looks like I just told her that I have fingers for toes or some crazy fact that I’ve managed to keep hidden from her for years. She leans off her hands slowly, looking more shocked by the second .

Fuck, she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?

I shrug a shoulder, like it’s no big deal. Like it was just a fact that I had to tell her before we could discuss anything else. That’s bullshit. It’s a huge deal. I don’t think I’ve ever said those words before.

She places her hand on her chest, leaning forward against the island while she barks out a laugh. “I was trying to act like I could settle for being your friend, but it would have killed me.”

My brows skyrocket.

Okay, rude.

We were friends for a long time, how dare she insinuate that my friendship was not good enough? I know she almost killed me numerous times for butting into her life and that I ruined many nights out because of it, or that we fought like teenagers too many times to count, but I am a good friend so she can eat that last comment.

I laugh with her because, yeah—under these circumstances, it would have killed me too.

“Hey,” I say, pushing myself off the island. I leave the beer, because it’s not remotely important, and I round the corner, finally closing the distance between us.

I reach for her.

She has tears in her eyes again. Happy ones this time, I think. She shakes her head as I near, like this is all too much and she still can’t figure out how we got here.

I hook my hands under her arms and force her out of her chair.

She winds her arms around my neck, squeezing me tighter than she ever has. A shaky breath leaves her mouth, dancing on the skin of my jaw, and I feel a figment of peace that I haven’t felt in two years.

I slide my arms around her. The woman that I have not been able to shake, who I touched just once and was doomed for the rest of my life. She’s it for me. I know that now. I’m done beating around the bush and playing games.

It’s us or it’s nothing.

Like I said before, she’s not the type of girl you let get away once you have her.

“I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers. I hear the way her breath hitches, how much that took for her to admit and I eat it up like a greedy fucking kid.

I squeeze her tighter, sliding my hands up her back, feeling every inch of her body that I haven’t been allowed to touch in months. Fuck, I love her. I missed her. I brush my nose against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

I bring my lips right up to her ear and repeat the words she once whispered to me in the dark. “Prove it.”

She laughs, and it’s a melodic sound that I have missed more than I care to admit. She angles her head until our mouths are inches apart. I see a flash of her eyes, and she beams at me when she finds me already looking.

“I mean it,” I whisper, just as her eyes dart down to my mouth. I sweep my thumb against her waist. “It’s you and me, Lucky. I’m in this.”

She swallows, leaning forward to brush her mouth against mine. Just a brief sweep of the lips. A whisper of a touch. A promise. Her fingers wind around the nape of my neck, burying themselves in my hair.

I shiver at the feeling, and she smiles like a fucking chesire cat.

“I was just about to prove it. Stop stealing my thunder,” she mutters against my mouth.

I almost laugh, but then she’s kissing me and fuck, nothing is funny. Nothing will ever be funny again. I thought I remembered how good this felt. I was wrong. It’s better. There’s a force to it, like she’s desperate for me to feel all the things she wasn’t brave enough to say. And I do. Hell, I do.

I wind my hands completely around her waist, tugging her body taut to mine.

She deepens the kiss, and I let her. I’ll always let her. My body ignites. It’s a kiss, but it’s the kiss, and all of a sudden I’m hard and desperate and obsessed with the woman in my arms, but that part isn’t new.

I glide my hand up her spine, earning a small whimper from her. That, I need more of. She presses herself tighter against me, if that’s possible—and that’s all the restraint I have.

Suddenly, my hand is buried in her hair. I’m gripping the fabric of her shirt like I have the power to tear it from her body. I could if I wanted to. But I don’t quite know if ripping her clothes is the mood I want to go for when I take her again for the first time.

I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. When she moans in response, my cock stirs to life.

Yeah, we’re going to need a bed. Now.

This counter looks sturdy enough.

Penny pulls away, arching her neck. Immediately, my hand is around the base of it, trailing down to her chest. She watches me with heavy lids, with liquid desire as my touch lowers further and further.

“Off,” I order.

She angles her head, flashing a tempting and sinful smile. “If you want it off, take it off.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I haul the shirt over her head and toss it on the counter. My eyes skim down her body. Those beautiful, perfect tits suffocating in a black and gold lace bra.

I freeze, my eyes snapping up to hers .

She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, shrugging a shoulder. “Coincidence.”

“Is that right?” I ask, gliding my hand along the strap. My team colours. I highly doubt this just happened to be what she pulled out of her drawer before going to the airport this morning.

“I might have worn it for luck,” she whispers, her throat bobbing as my hand slides to the back. I fiddle with the clasp, unhooking it with ease.

I keep it in place, my eyes skirting back to her face. “Were you hoping for luck in our conversation, or were you hoping I’d have you naked before the night was over?”

Her eyes flash, cheeks turning pink as her bra falls to the floor. “Both.”

I grin and step toward her again. I pull her to me, cupping her jaw in my hand. I never thought I could hold the entire world in my palm before, but I’ve been proven wrong.

The world is complicated, and infuriating, and she smells like coconut and coffee.

She leans into the touch, her eyes softening. Something about the tenderness in that look has my chest constricting.

I brush my thumb against her cheek. I feel the need to tell her again. So, I do. “I love you.”

Her eyes flutter shut. She inhales a deep breath and presses her lips to the heel of my hand. Those stormy blue eyes meet mine, but there’s a sudden flash of deep pain in them that I hadn’t been expecting.

And then she’s sobbing.

Fuck .

I scoop her into my arms, her half-naked body fully concealed by my own. My heart cracks in my chest, dick softening almost instantly. Too soon. Fuck, I came on too strong, too soon .

She wasn’t ready. Didn’t I learn my fucking lesson to take things slow with her?

She buries her face in my neck and clings to me, and for a second, I’m petrified she’ll run again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, running my hand down her hair. I press a kiss to her head. “We’ll take this slow.”

“No.” She sniffles, pulling back and wiping her face. I keep my hand firmly on her back to prevent her from leaving. “It’s not that.”

I dip my chin, waiting. She can tell me in her own time.

She lets out a shaky breath. Turning, she snatches her shirt off the counter and pulls it over her head. I already miss the contact of our skin, but she quickly fixes that when she takes my hand and pulls it to her chest, holding it there, right on top of her racing heart.

It’s beating so fucking fast .

“I’m scared,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

Ouch.

I hate the way those words make me feel, how deeply I want to make her feel better.

“I am too.”

“No,” she repeats with a sad shake of her head. “No, you don’t get it. This is the first time in my life I believe it when a man says he loves me. I’m scared .”

My brain short circuits.

That is so fucking sad.

“I’m scared of that responsibility. I’m scared of fucking it up again. I’m scared that one day, you’ll change your mind, and I won’t be able to heal from this.”

“I won’t,” I urge. I take a desperate step toward her, wrapping my fingers around the nape of her neck and hauling her to me. I lower my face until we’re eye level. “That will never happen. ”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers, a tear gliding down her cheek.

“I do,” I insist, nodding. “He put too much doubt in your head, baby. That’s his voice, not yours. It’s definitely not mine. You just listen to the words that I’m telling you. I love you . It’s you and me. It’s a ring, babies if you want ‘em, and tons of dogs that you’ll keep bringing home without asking. It’s WAG jackets and championship rings. It’s you becoming the CEO of a marketing firm. It’s life. Together.”

Her eyes search mine, full of tears but strong. Her lip shakes, and she nods over and over, like she’s trying to convince herself that I’m right, like she’s trying to believe it.

I raise my brows. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, taking in a sharp breath. “It’s you and me.”

“You and me,” I repeat with a firm nod, my thumb skimming her neck.

“Dogs and WAG jackets.” She sniffles.

I roll my eyes, laughing under my breath. Of course those are the only words she heard.

“Pittsburgh always has good WAG jackets. I promise.”

“But I live in Canada,” she says suddenly. She reaches upward, gripping my arms like it’s the first time that thought has entered my head.

I promise you, it’s been the only thing on my mind since she showed up at that arena.

It just dawned on her that this bubble is eventually going to pop. The world doesn’t stop just because it feels like it has for us. She lives in Canada. She lives back at home. I’m here. My life is here. This is brand new. It’d be crazy to upend our lives for something so fresh, right?

There are big conversations that need to be had. Long distance? Does she move here? If she does, does she get her own place? Would she move in with me?

It’s all up in the air.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. Her brow is furrowed, looking at me like she’s in a trance. She nods again, but I don’t think she’s really listening anymore. “We’re going to figure it all out. We’ll change your flight until next weekend. We’ll talk about all of this, but nothing needs to happen right now.”

“Okay.”

Something in me relaxes. I believe her. I believe that she believes me.

Okay.

“Give us a second, Lucky,” I say, cupping her face again. She reaches up to cling onto my forearms, gentler now. I lean in and kiss her mouth, loving the way this girl melts against my lips. “We have time.”

“Lots of it, right?” she asks, peering up at me with eyes that are pleading.

Fuck. My heart soars hearing her say that.

“Exactly,” I say with a firm nod. I reach behind her and pull the wine glass in between us. “Let’s take this part slow, okay? Finish your wine. We’ll talk. We’ll go to bed. We’ll sleep in my big, obnoxiously comfy bed and wake up together. Tomorrow sounds like it’s going to be a good day.”

She takes a sip with a shaky hand. She eyes me over the rim. “Yeah, tomorrow does sound like it’s going to be a good day.”

She still doesn’t sound convinced.

“I’ll get you cinnamon buns and a hazelnut latte in the morning,” I promise.

Her eyes widen to the size of fucking planets. Her face erupts into a smile. “Really?”

“Really.” I nod .

She grins wider, and her hand slowly stops shaking. Her breathing evens out. Her shoulders eventually loosen and rest, and I realize just how fucking easy making her happy is.

Gollum was an absolute fucking moron.

“No running this time,” I remind her.

She smiles more gently and takes another sip. “Okay.”

“I love you.”

Her eyes soften, and the impact that those three words have on her soul suddenly dawns on me. She’s used to wondering, to not knowing how the person she loves feels. She has never heard those words enough to believe them. Not with him. I’m going to ensure she hears them enough to stop being surprised every time they leave my lips.

Because I mean those words. Every fucking part of me means them.