Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

65. Penny

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

penny

“Stop. You’re making me nervous,” Wyatt hisses.

Yeah, well, guess what? I’m terrified, and I’m about to puke all over the lady in front of us with a perfectly styled black bob. She’s probably someone’s mother and I’m going to have her picking chunks of fries out of her hair for the duration of three periods of professional hockey.

“I’m going to be sick,” I whisper to him because I’m done pretending that I’m calm, cool, and collected. Now that Declan isn’t around, it’s all coming out.

I’m vibrating. I haven’t slept in two days. Walking into this arena with my friends and Declan’s family, it feels surreal and oddly disgusting. How do people live a life like this? Who wants to have to endure this feeling multiple times? I’m terrified for him. Terrified and so proud that my stomach is as out of whack as my heart is.

I kept my distance this morning because he needed it. But, even without being too close, his nerves were evident. He could barely get ready without his fingers slipping. He couldn’t do up his tie without my help.

I dressed him, smoothing my hands down his face. I pressed my forehead to his, and we stood there, our hands on each other, and breathed for a few, long seconds. Together. Whatever way the wind blows, however this ends, we’ve got each other.

“Bring it home, baby,” I whispered.

Declan nodded against me, reaching up to splay his fingers against my jaw with shaking hands. He kissed me softly, slow and lingering. “I will.”

Then, he left, and his phone has been off ever since, as per his pre-game ritual. I haven’t spoken to him. I don’t know how he is feeling. I don’t know if he needs a pep talk or a hug. It kills me, not being able to be there for him the way I know how to be, but I know he will pull this off.

He is Declan fucking Lowes.

Me, on the other hand? The one who isn’t lacing up her skates and is not about to play a life-changing game? I want to absolutely keel over and die.

“He’s lightning,” Wyatt reminds me, nudging me with his shoulder. “He’s got this.”

He is, and he does.

I have the utmost faith in him and his team. They are an unbreakable unit, and if everyone does the same things they’ve been doing all season, it’s in the damn bag.

Pittsburgh had a few tough years. Their team experienced some losses and injuries and their dynamic suffered for it. It’s why Declan has never made it to a final, despite being so talented.

If the team isn’t working like one, it’s a losing team.

After their previous coach was fired two years ago, things started to shift, and it was for the better. They became the team that they needed to be. A unit. They rose from the ashes and worked their asses off to become the force we are watching today.

They deserve this win.

Declan is his own talent. Forker and Black have their special brand of magic, too. They also have Lark Waters in net. He’s having the most incredible rookie season of all time. He is a wall, completely immovable. He might be hoisting the cup over his head after his first season in the league.

Plus, they have Saltzman. Declan says he’s a hard guy to talk to, but he’s effective as hell as a captain. He has whipped them into shape over the last year, cementing how close they are to the one thing they’ve all individually wanted in their lives.

They’re more than a team now.

They’re brothers.

We’ve got this.

“We need booze,” Avery mutters beside me.

She and I finished our ciders far too quickly. They lay empty at our feet.

Declan’s parents' seats are a little closer to the glass, and as sad as I am that I won’t be able to share this moment with them, there’s something special about being in the stands with just our little crew.

From college to the pros. To a final. We get to watch Declan step onto the ice and potentially hoist that famous cup over his head by the end of this game. In a short time, he’ll either be a winner, or we move to a game seven.

College Penny still cannot believe she’s standing here. College Penny and current Penny are so proud of that little jerk she befriended all those years ago. Current Penny cannot wait to kiss those lips again when this is all over .

College Penny is probably horrified at that thought.

The lights darken and flicker. Music erupts through the speakers. The crowd absolutely explodes, and I suddenly can’t feel my hands. I don’t know if my feet are still there, either.

This is it.

My god, this is it.

The second Declan slides into view, gliding onto the ice in front of Forker, I lose my breath. My hand snaps downward, snatching Avery’s fingers with my own.

One, two, three.

Without looking at each other, lock our pinkies and say the mantra we used to say in college under our breath: “we already won, we already won, we already won.”

When we reach up to kiss our fingers, it does nothing to ease the nerves.

Declan skates in circles, his face stern and focused. He stays near Forker as they glide past the glass. Forker talks, but Declan doesn’t utter a word.

“Shit,” Wyatt mutters, taking a swig of his beer. “I think I’m scared.”

“You shouldn’t be,” EJ says, eyes glued onto number thirty-three as he takes his spots in line, shoulder-to-shoulder with his team. “He’s not about to lose with his lucky Penny in the stands.”

I smile, reaching across Wyatt to smack him in the arm.

Declan looks around the arena, his helmet resting against his hip, hair flowing backward. He shifts on his skates, tapping his stick on the ice nervously, chewing his mouthguard as it hangs out of his mouth.

He scans the crowd, an unusual move for him. His focus usually stays on the ice, but he’s taking this in. Which is what he should do. It’s what I told him I wanted him to do when I was reminding him that this moment matters regardless of the outcome.

His gaze skirts over our section. I’m not sure if he can see us, but we all wave anyway. We’re close enough to see those hazel eyes, so we’re close enough for him to spot us.

Declan breaks into a smile, still chewing on his mouthguard. He dips his chin as a way of saying hi. His eyes slide to mine and stay there.

He sees us.

He sees me.

I mouth three words to him, not caring if he can make them out.

I love you.

I love you so much, no matter how this ends. I’ve loved you in a way I have never known possible. I’ve loved you in the moments I’ve tried not to, and I’ll love you from every moment onward, win or lose. Loving you is easier than breathing. Loving you is my winning game.

It’s time to get yours.

Declan’s throat bobs, and he reaches up to his chest, hitting his gloved fist over his heart, eyes still glued to me.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

I love you, too.

The announcer comes over the speakers, and Declan’s attention returns to the ice. I keep Avery’s hand in mine, but reach for Wyatt, too. As the national anthem blares through the speakers, I shut my eyes and try to breathe.

I want this for him.

I want this for him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

My head is spinning, but I force myself to open my eyes and watch the puck drop. I will watch every moment of this game, every move he makes toward getting what he wants. What he deserves.

Because he will.

I have a feeling this won’t be the last time we see him thriving in a final, but it is the first.

Declan always gets what he wants in the long run, and I don’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more than this.