Breakaway, page 12
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
He might also be a bit jazzed up because it would be the first time he’d be around Camila since that night at the grill. He didn’t count spying on her from his kitchen window when she picked up his mom.
When he pulled up to the estate property where they’d be filming the first half of the video—with each of them in some sort of interview setting with either interior shots or exterior shots—he saw the multiple cars and SUVs already there. Declan was indeed the last to arrive.
In the afternoon, they’d relocate to the Chargers arena and do some action shots on the ice. All the guys were supposed to bring their team jerseys.
“Hey, look who finally decided to drag himself out of bed,” Jax said, coming out on the porch, folding his arms.
The guy was tall and looked equally imposing with his thick auburn beard and steely gray eyes. “What’s up?” Declan said. He’d told Bree he’d be late, no need to rehash it.
“Good to see you, man,” Jax said. He clasped hands with Declan.
“How’s Chicago treating you?” Declan said.
Jax flashed a smile. “Can’t complain. The Flyers are setting records left and right, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Declan said, feeling his tenseness begin to ease. “It’s not like you let the Pit forget.”
Jax chuckled. Declan couldn’t ever remember Jax being in such a good mood before. Maybe it was the fact that he’d gotten things worked out with his player contract and that he was also dating a woman.
Now, Declan was a witness to it in person.
“You’re up next,” Jax said. “Just giving you a heads-up.”
“Great,” Declan said, not intending to sound sarcastic, but he didn’t want to be mic’d up and not prepared. It would be good to watch someone else’s interview first. Declan wasn’t too keen on answering personal questions, and he was pretty sure Trane felt the same way.
“What’s up, Dice?” Rocco’s voice boomed the second Declan walked into a massive living space, complete with soaring ceilings and giant wood beams. A camera crew stood in the adjoining kitchen, reviewing something on an iPad. Apparently they were on a small break.
“How’s it going, Rock?” Declan said as the dark-haired block of muscle strode toward him and pulled him into a bear hug. Rocco’s Italian nature always brought out the affection in him.
Rocco drew away. “Look at you, Sleeping Beauty, we all thought you’d ditched us.”
“Uh, no,” Declan said, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d just spotted Camila on the other side of the room, talking to Bree by a large bank of windows. Bree had grown her dark hair long, and she’d shot up in height, now a beautiful woman grown up from the kid he used to know from the Northbrook games.
But his attention was drawn to the blond woman beside Bree. Camila was back to wearing her baggy clothing. She wore a flowy skirt that nearly reached her ankles, and her oversized sweater looked like it could fit him. But no hat today. Her hair was fixed in a loose ponytail.
Before he could cross over to talk to Bree, and maybe Camila too, Clint intercepted. “Glad you’re here.”
“Great to see you,” Declan said, turning to look at Clint McCarthy. His height and facial features reminded Declan of his older brother, Grizz, but Clint didn’t sport his brother’s signature beard. “Bree’s been amazing.”
Clint’s mouth curved. “Yeah, I know.”
“About time you showed your mug,” Trane said, lumbering over. They clapped shoulders.
“You’ve ignored my texts,” Declan said in a low tone.
Trane lifted his hands as if he was completely innocent. “Don’t wanna be in the middle, man.”
“Then you should have kept quiet in the first place.”
Trane lifted his massive shoulders. “Maybe.”
Before Declan could say any more choice words, Zane Winchester cut in. “Dude. What’s up with the hair?”
Declan touched the top of his head. “What do you mean?” Zane laughed, and still, Declan didn’t know what was going on. “You’re a nut, Z.”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
Declan shook his head. “How’s the bug doing?”
“She’s great,” Z said. “Too smart for her own good, and keeping me on my toes.”
Z’s daughter Hope had just turned six, and she was as precocious as she was adorable. Declan had crossed paths with her a few times at the various fundraising and charity events that brought the Northbrook guys together. At the last event, Hope had regaled him with detailed descriptions of each of her Barbies and how they all had to take turns wearing the sparkly rainbow dress.
“Okay, everyone,” Bree said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. She walked into the center of the room. “Glad you’re here, Declan.” Her gaze moved to the others. “We’ve reviewed Clint’s interview, and we’ve decided that we don’t want the same location for each interview. So we’ll be moving around the house or the outside property.”
“I call an inside interview,” Z said.
“You can’t call that,” Rocco shot back.
“It’s fifty-three degrees outside,” Z continued. “I’m calling inside.”
Clint smirked. “Baby.”
“Hey, guys,” Bree said good-naturedly. “A little focus here? We can be wrapped up before dinner, or we can work into the night.”
“What are we doing for dinner?” Trane asked.
“Shut up,” Jax said. “Listen to the boss.”
Bree’s face pinked, and Declan noticed Clint grinning at her. Not surprising.
Declan’s gaze slid over to Camila, where she was still standing near the windows. She was looking at something on her phone, but he had the feeling that he’d almost caught her looking at him. Or not.
Trane bumped his arm.
“Stop,” Declan muttered.
Trane chuckled.
“Declan, you’re up next,” Bree said, “and we’re going to do it by the white fence that spans the property.” She snatched a jacket from an oversized chair, and Clint moved to help her slide into it. A brief smile passed between the two.
“Can I watch the first interview now?” Declan said. “You know, so I can figure out what not to say.”
“No time,” Bree said. “Maybe if you’d been here earlier, you could have seen it live.”
Ouch.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Declan said. “Any reason why I’m next?” Okay, so he might be stepping into hot water.
Bree folded her arms. “The lighting is important in videography. And the sun will glare too much later in the morning.”
“Stop being a pain in the a—” Jax started.
“This way,” Bree cut in. “The rest of you can come and watch or wait here and prepare for your own interviews. I’ll need the camera crew and Camila.”
Camila said nothing but shouldered a tote bag and walked out the back door with Bree. The camera crew lumbered after them.
“Better hurry, or she’s gonna be pissed,” Trane said.
“Right.” Declan strode across the vast room and got to the back door just as Bree turned around, a wrinkle in her brow.
He was pretty sure she had been about to chew him out but then changed her mind. He followed the group across a wide lawn to where a painted white fence acted as the foreground to a ranch-style property. The place was gorgeous and immaculate. Nothing like where he’d grown up in Chicago.
“You gotta lose the jacket, Declan,” Bree said as they all approached the fence. “Sorry, but I figure you’re tough enough to handle it.”
Declan cracked a smile. “I’ll survive.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the stubbly winter grass. “Is this shirt okay? Or I have a lighter-colored one in my SUV.”
“That’s fine,” Bree said. “The contrast is nice, right, Dimitri?”
“Absolutely gorgeous,” the guy named Dimitri said.
Okay, that was a bit extreme . . .
“What do you think, Cam?” Dimitri asked in a tone that told Declan these two knew each other.
“The dark color works,” she said, meeting Declan’s gaze for the first time since he’d arrived.
He wished all of these people would leave so that he could talk to Camila alone.
“Can you lean this way?” Dimitri asked, apparently the expert on how to stand against a fence. “Perfect. Chin up, and remember you want to look directly into the camera in this case.”
What other case was there? Declan followed the guy’s orders as best he could.
“Excellent,” Dimitri said.
The guy with the camera moved closer to Declan until the lens felt like a big black hole staring right at him.
“We’ll do a test run,” Dimitri said. “Bree will prompt you with some questions. We’ll cut out her voice later, but don’t look at her when you talk. Does that make sense?”
Declan glanced at Camila, who looked away. She didn’t look annoyed, at least, just . . . nonchalant, maybe.
“Ready, three, two, one, and we’re rolling.” Dimitri pointed at Declan.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
“Tell us what hockey means to you,” Bree said.
He glanced at her with a frown. A little heads-up would have been nice. How was he supposed to answer that?
“Remember, eyes on the camera,” Dimitri said.
Declan looked back at the black hole. “Can we start over?”
“We can cut all of this out,” Dimitri said.
“Just tell us when you first started playing,” Bree said. “The words will come.”
Declan cleared his throat. “Can that be cut out too?”
“Of course,” Dimitri said. “Relax, my friend. Don’t be stilted. Try to be natural, like you’re talking to a good friend of yours.”
Declan wondered if he was imagining Camila’s smile in his peripheral vision.
“I guess I’ll start with the first time I saw a hockey game,” Declan said. “How much time do we have?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Bree said.
“Okay . . . My dad got some tickets from his boss, who was a big fan of the Chicago Flyers. I was probably about six or seven. Even though I was young, I can remember that night like it was yesterday. The cold of the arena, the music during the warmups, the crowds either cheering or groaning, the hot dog my dad bought me, but mostly I was glued to what was happening on the ice. How those guys were skating so fast. How I could barely track the puck. How fiercely they all fought for control. I was fascinated, and I got sucked right in.”
“When did you start playing?” Bree asked.
This was easy to answer. “On my tenth birthday, I got one of those manila envelopes as a present. I was pretty bummed because I was hoping for a bike. When I opened the envelope, I found a sheet of paper that was the registration for a hockey clinic. I knew it was expensive because I’d been begging my parents for three years by then to go to a clinic. I’d always been told they couldn’t afford it.”
He no longer saw the camera lens or noticed Dimitri or anyone for that matter. The memories flooded his mind. That first day at the clinic, when he wore all borrowed hockey gear. He probably looked like a mismatched kid off the street, but he hadn’t cared. He still remembered the nervous rumbling in his stomach and how he’d been a head taller than most of the kids there. How the coach running the camp had taken his parents aside after and talked to them for a few minutes.
His dad’s proud gaze, his mom’s worried one.
And then the car ride home, when his dad said that the Northbrook Hockey Club was having tryouts the very next week, and the clinic coach wanted Declan to try out.
He didn’t know how long he talked into that camera, but he was surprised when Bree cut in. “That’s great, Declan. Thank you. We have plenty of footage now.”
Declan exhaled. “That’s it? I’m done?”
He might have sounded too excited, because Bree laughed. “You’re done. Thanks. It was excellent.”
“Great working with you,” Dimitri said, holding out his hand.
Declan shook it. “Uh, thanks. And thanks for your help.”
Dimitri had already turned to talk to his cameraman. The two headed back to the house, and Bree and Camila followed.
It was over, and it hadn’t been that terrible, Declan decided. He snatched his jacket from the ground, then slowly walked back toward the house. Up ahead, the group had already disappeared inside, except for Camila.
She was standing where the grass met the back patio, watching him.
Declan’s pulse involuntarily sped up. He had no idea why she was waiting for him, or if maybe she was about to turn him down for dinner.
As he neared, he said, “My mom said you helped with the cat the other night. Thanks for that.”
She nodded, her green eyes on him.
The cat was a safe subject, right?
“I’m glad I could help,” she said. “Your mom’s great, and Princess was happy with the ice water.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty finicky.”
Camila smiled. And his heart might have skipped a beat. “That was really cool, to hear about your childhood,” she said.
“I wasn’t too lame?”
She laughed, and the sound zoomed through him. “No, you were totally natural.”
“Um, that’s going a bit far.”
“Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration.” She folded her arms, eyeing him. “But it was great nonetheless.”
He looked away for a second. He hadn’t planned on having a minute to themselves. But he had to ask her now, or he’d lose this opportunity. Taking a deep breath, he looked up. “So have you decided about tomorrow night yet? Or are you going to torture me the rest of the day before you answer?”
She scanned his face, then she tilted her head, and a small smile appeared. “I think I can make dinner work.”
“I’m not nervous . . . exactly,” Camila told Paige through Bluetooth as she drove to the arena. “I mean, I agreed to go out to dinner with him after tomorrow’s game. Who knows, we’ll probably end up at that dumb grill again.”
“Did he mention a place?”
“We haven’t gotten that far,” Camila said. “He asked, and I said okay. So no plans. I’ll go to the game, and I guess we’ll meet up after.”
Paige sighed on her end of the phone call. “Are you going to kiss him again?”
Camila scoffed. “He’s the one who kissed me, not the other way around.”
“Hmm.” Paige paused. “Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“Which one is that?”
“The fact that the Seattle Blacks are playing the Chargers tomorrow night.”
“So?” Just because Stephen would be in the arena tomorrow night had nothing to do with Camila. Not anymore.
“Okay, then . . . what are you going to wear?”
“Um, jeans and a sweatshirt.”
“I mean to the date?”
“Same thing.”
“Oh, Cam,” Paige said. “Don’t take the fun out of it. Wear another dress, and I guarantee he’s going to kiss you again.”
Camila laughed off the observation, although her skin was tingling at the thought of a repeat from Declan. “I’m not looking for a hookup, and he better not be either.”
“Be boring, then,” Paige said, another sigh in her tone. “Have it your way.”
Camila slowed her car and pulled into the arena parking lot. It seemed everyone was already there. She’d stopped for a smoothie since Bree had said she was having pizza delivered for everyone at the arena. They’d shoot the last half of the video, and then Camila would fix a salad at home.
“Got to go,” Camila said. “It looks like I’m late.”
After she hung up with Paige, Camila pulled into one of the empty slots. She had plenty to choose from. She eyed the black SUV a few rows from her car. It was definitely Declan’s, and before she cut her gaze away, she saw the driver’s door open.
Declan had been in the SUV. Maybe on the phone?
He had his jacket back on and was carrying a duffle. Likely with some of his hockey stuff that the other guys were going to be wearing too.
She continued toward the doors, not looking over again, but she heard his footsteps grow closer. So it wasn’t like she could ignore him.
“Lunch?” he said, nodding toward her smoothie cup.
“I’m not a big fan of pizza.” Had he been waiting for her?
He reached the door a step ahead of her and opened it, then held it for her. This meant she had to pass by him, and yes, catch his familiar clean-soap scent.
“Uh, I wanted to tell you something,” he said as they stepped into the building and headed down the hallway toward the arena.
So he had been waiting for her. Her heart began a faster beat. “What’s that?”
“Ignore everything the Northbrook guys say,” Declan said, holding up his phone.
She glanced at it. She couldn’t really read the texts that were popping up, but it looked like some sort of a group chat going on.
“It’s our Pit,” he said. “We started it a few months ago, and now the guys think they can know my business.”
Camila blinked. “What does this have to do with me?”
Declan slowed his step, and Camila felt compelled to slow too. He stopped, and she faced him. The corridor was dim, with the only light coming from the arena beyond. This put Declan in shadow, but she felt every bit of the focus from his brown eyes.
“They know about our date tomorrow night,” he said in a lowered tone, although no one was around to overhear, “and let’s just say I haven’t dated in a while.”
He shifted his weight. He appeared nervous, and it was an interesting phenomenon to see this tough hockey player act this way.
She folded her arms. “How long are we talking?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Since before my dad died.”
Oh. So more than a year? That was a while. “I get it. I was a hermit after my mom passed away.”
Their gazes held for a long moment.
“So . . . they might razz us a bit,” Declan continued.
Typical guys. “I think I can handle it.”
