Breakaway, page 16
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
The rest of the second period remained scoreless, so by the time the ending buzzer sounded, the Chargers were up two to zero.
So far, so good.
The players all took off for the locker rooms, and Camila sat down, hoping to calm her heart rate. She pulled out her phone when it buzzed. She’d been ignoring it all period, sure that Paige was sending her little cheering updates since she and Brady were at a sports grill somewhere watching. But the text was from Declan.
That was for you, baby.
Her heart nearly stopped. Eyes burning with tears, she typed back: You’re amazing, Declan Rivera. I don’t care what the coach decides, it won’t change my mind about you. Then she added a heart emoji. The text delivered, and it was read.
No reply, but that was okay, because minutes later, the Chargers were back on the ice.
Declan with them.
Camila wanted to stand, so she wouldn’t miss a second of the game, but everyone around her was sitting. Her pulse thrummed, both in anticipation for the outcome of the game and for what Declan had texted her.
The Coyotes seemed to have the momentum in the third period. They shot on goal multiple times, and most of them Declan deflected, which was good, really good. But that didn’t lessen the tension running through Camila. What if they scored? Would the coach count that against Declan, even though there were five other players on the ice?
Her heart sank as the Coyotes continued dominating, until the inevitable happened. They scored.
The arena filled with mostly boos, but some pockets of cheering could be heard. Camila felt those boos all the way to her soul. She watched Declan’s reaction. She knew he was affected, but she hoped that he would stay strong. That the team would rally. That they could still hold off the Coyotes.
“Come on, Declan,” Camila said under her breath. “Don’t give up. Please, don’t give up.”
The playing turned brutal. Penalties abounded, and Loop went into the penalty box. Then one of the Chargers. Now the game was only five on five, and nothing was looking good.
Runt was clearly struggling, and on the other end of the ice, Tyler Nelson looked like the king of his domain.
But Declan had gotten through him once. He could do it again. Because winning this game on a down note would still reflect poorly on Declan.
Camila turned to look toward the spectators’ boxes, where her dad and Angela sat. Right now, despite the flurry of her nerves, Camila wished she could talk to her dad.
The crowd started yelling, and she turned back toward the ice.
Declan had the puck, and he passed to Hammer, who passed it back.
Declan fell into a defensive role as one of the Coyotes stole the puck from him.
Then Declan shot forward, slammed into the other player, and had the puck once again. “Dice! Dice! Dice!” echoed through the arena, and Camila found herself chanting along.
Then suddenly, Declan was in the fray again, stealing the puck as it passed between two Coyotes. He was off to make the shot. But someone slammed him from behind, and Declan went sliding on his hip, still moving toward the goal.
Somehow he managed to tweak his hockey stick to send the puck flying. Right into the corner of the net.
The Chargers fans went wild, but Camila was staring as Declan collided with the goalie. Declan was down, and although the arena was still celebrating, Camila’s stomach had hollowed out.
Declan was hurt.
Tyler Nelson reached out a hand to help him up, but Declan waved him off. The medics reached Declan, and he rolled over onto his back, his face twisting in pain.
Camila gasped when she saw the blood on the ice.
Mrs. Rivera gripped Camila’s arm. “It was the goalie’s blade,” she said, her voice much calmer than Camila felt.
Tears pricked her eyes as Declan was helped off the ice, then through a portal.
The last two minutes of the game were over quickly, and the Chargers fans celebrated the win.
Camila wanted to celebrate too, but her heart was heavy with not knowing how badly Declan was hurt.
She sat with Mrs. Rivera as the arena slowly emptied.
“How long do you usually have to wait until you hear something?” Camila asked Mrs. Rivera.
“If it was serious, the coach would have already called me,” Mrs. Rivera said with determination. “Declan will probably call soon. I’m going to the restroom, and if I hear anything I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” Camila said, watching her go.
She remained in her seat, watching the fans around her as they gathered their things, visited, and headed out of the arena. All normal things—when inside, she felt anything but normal.
When her phone rang, she nearly jumped. “Dad?”
“He’s getting a few stitches in his lower thigh,” her dad said. “He collided with Nelson’s skate when he shot that goal. But he’ll be fine. Probably won’t even need to miss more than a game or two.”
Camila released a shaky breath. “Will there be a next game?” she asked in a tentative voice.
“I hope so.”
It was all Camila could go on, for now. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“Sure thing.” Her dad paused. “And Camila? I hope things work out.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She hung up, new tears burning in her eyes.
Moments later, Mrs. Rivera called. “I heard from Declan. He’s getting stitches in his leg, but he says he’s fine.” She gave a soft laugh. “He says that a lot.”
Camila wiped at a stray tear. “Yes, he does.”
“Anyway, I’m going to head to the parking lot since Declan said he’ll be a while,” Mrs. Rivera said. “I’ll probably see you at the next game.”
“All right,” Camila said over the lump in her throat. She hoped there was a next game, and one after that.
After hanging up with Mrs. Rivera, Camila remained in her seat. The place was almost empty now, with only a few stragglers. Teens in a group that were obviously flirting. Two older men in some sort of heated debate.
Camila didn’t expect Declan to call or text her. He’d called his mom, and he probably assumed she’d gotten the news as well. But when her phone buzzed with a text, her pulse leapt.
“Thank you,” she whispered when she saw that it was from Declan.
Getting stitches. Then meeting with Coach. You don’t have to wait.
Did he not want her to wait, or did he not want her to feel obligated? She could go home, sure, and stress there. Wait for him to call. It would be agonizing. And she wanted to see him. More than anything. Whatever the coach said, she wanted to be there for Declan.
She’d wait. Okay, she texted, not confirming one way or another. Maybe she’d change her mind in a few minutes. But right now, she would wait.
By the time she made it to the corridor with the Chargers locker room, the place was empty. No players were coming out, so she assumed that Declan was already in the coach’s office. She didn’t feel comfortable waiting outside the office, so she hung out by the stats room, which they’d likely pass before going to the parking lot.
She flipped on the light to the stats room, then powered up the computer. She checked through a few things, but she was in no mood to get ahead in her reports. Plus, she couldn’t focus. Tonight the sales had been decent—about 80 percent sold. She flipped off the lights and walked out of the stats room. She paced, the only sounds in the arena that of the janitorial crew.
When she heard footsteps, she froze.
Moments later, Coach Walker came down the corridor, his eyes on the phone in his hand as he texted and walked. He didn’t even glance up at Camila or acknowledge her presence. She didn’t care. He wasn’t the man she wanted to talk to. But she wished his expression or demeanor had given some hint of how the meeting went. Was he right now communicating with another league coach about a trade?
The minutes ticked by, and still no Declan. She could walk down the corridor and turn the corner to have a view of the coach’s office, but that seemed too bold.
She’d wait as long as she needed. She leaned against the wall, finding it cold against her back. It didn’t matter; she was numb to everything else but listening for Declan’s footsteps.
When she finally heard them, they were slow.
Her heart sank.
She straightened from the wall, wondering what she would see when he appeared.
When Declan came around the corner, he was limping and carrying his big duffle bag. He wore no jacket but a gray T-shirt, along with some black sweats. His hair was still damp, likely from a shower, and there were a couple of visible bruises on his forearms. His gaze was on the floor, and it was a few seconds before he looked up.
The depth of his gaze when it connected with hers didn’t give her any clue as to the outcome of the meeting. He didn’t smile, but he stopped walking and set down his duffle. “You waited,” he said in a raspy tone.
She could only nod, because her words had stuck in her throat. He didn’t move as she walked toward him. He didn’t give her any clue to what had happened or if he was still on the team, but suddenly she didn’t care. If he was okay, then she was okay. The rest didn’t matter.
She wrapped her arms around his torso, and he pulled her close. His arms held her, strong and sure, and took her breath away. She wouldn’t cry, though. Declan didn’t need to worry about her emotions. So she held back her tears as she closed her eyes and pressed her face against his neck, breathing in his showered scent and listening to his steady breathing.
“Are you in pain?” she whispered against his warm skin.
He tightened his hold. “Not anymore.”
She wasn’t going to be letting go of him anytime soon, and apparently neither was he.
Declan moved a hand up her back, then he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m staying on the team.”
She lifted her head.
His brown eyes locked on hers.
“What?” she gasped.
His mouth curved. “The coach got an earful about Stephen Goodman from your dad, and well, I played lights out tonight. So I’m still a Charger.”
Camila squealed and threw her arms about his neck. His stance shifted to accommodate her enthusiastic hug, and he winced.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing away. “Your leg—”
“It’s fine.” He tugged her close. “Come here, baby.”
Exhilaration flooded through her at the amazing news, and she twined her arms about his neck. “You’re an amazing man, Declan Rivera.”
“Hmm.” He kissed her on the mouth, his lips warm and determined. “I think you’re the amazing one, Camila. You were right. I just needed to get out of my own head.”
She certainly wasn’t taking the credit, but she’d humor him for now. “Well, whatever happened, I’m your number one fan.”
He smiled and pulled her into another tight hug. “There are no guarantees, you know that, right?”
“I know,” she said, sighing into him. “I don’t need guarantees, Declan. I just need you.”
Lookin’ good, Clint texted.
Does that come in powder blue? Rocco wrote.
Jax sent a GIF of a sparkly unicorn.
Declan frowned at the GIF. I’m not a sparkly unicorn.
Another GIF arrived from Jax, that of a famous actor laughing.
It had taken some prodding, but the Northbrook guys had talked Declan into sending out a selfie of him wearing his tux. He’d been getting ready for his date with Camila when texts from the Pit started flying. Trane had started it all off with texting, Quiet night at home. Sweats and pizza. Living the dream. Then he’d sent a selfie of him with two large pizza boxes.
Z had replied with a picture of him and his daughter, Hope, evidently in a makeup tutorial session—Z being the guinea pig.
Declan had laughed a full three minutes.
Clint’s selfie was of him in the locker room of the St. Louis Hawks. He had a game tonight.
Jax had only sent GIFs so far.
Rocco’s selfie was a super closeup of his eye. Not revealing anything else around him. Although Declan knew Rocco was also playing tonight.
Signing off now, dudes. Although you’re entertaining, I’ve got a date with my lady.
Camila Brandon, to be exact.
The thought had Declan grinning.
The texts piled in.
Clint: Good luck, man.
Rocco: Keep it classy.
Jax sent a GIF of a dancing couple.
Z: Hope says don’t forget to tell her that she’s pretty.
Trane: Get her home before midnight.
Declan chuckled at all of their responses, then he put his phone on silent.
“Declan?” his mom called from the hallway outside his bedroom. “When do I get that picture?”
“Hang on, I’m coming.” He checked his appearance a final time in the mirror, then opened the door.
“Oh, goodness,” his mom said, placing her hand on her chest. “You look so much like your father.”
Declan bent to kiss her cheek. “You know, you’re welcome to come. I’ll tell Camila we’ll be a little late picking her up if you want to get ready.”
“I have too much to organize before the move,” his mom said. “Although Paige is a dear, I’ll see her at her wedding next month.” She brushed at something on his lapel. “Now, stand by the front door for the picture.”
“Mom, I’m not ten.”
His mother ignored him as she bustled down the hall. She’d found a place in a retirement community and would be moving in a couple of days. Declan already had Loop and Runt roped into helping him move his mom’s stuff. Camila said that she and Paige would be helping on the other end, with the setup.
The neighbors in the retirement community seemed friendly too, and Declan couldn’t be more grateful that his mom had finally consented to stay in Denver. Now, if only he could keep his spot on the team. He pushed aside that worry. Overall, things were looking good, and in last night’s game he’d scored a point and stayed in the entire time.
He couldn’t ask for anything more, not with Camila becoming front and center in his life. He wasn’t sure how it had all happened—well, he knew, but he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky. Surprisingly enough, his teammates on the Chargers had taken it in stride. Hammer had even teased him with something like, “I knew you had your eye on her, and that meant I didn’t have a chance.”
It was the Northbrook guys who needed to stop with the razzing. But in truth, Declan enjoyed it because it meant he could give them a hard time back as well. It was the nature of the Pit, and Declan wouldn’t have it any other way.
Meow.
“Well, hello, Princess,” Declan said, bending to tickle the top of the cat’s head as she followed him to the front door. “Nope. You’ve got to say in.”
“She’s going to miss you bossing her around,” his mother said, joining them at the door.
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
The cat rubbed against his pant leg, going one way, then turning and rubbing against him again.
“Well, maybe she will,” Declan conceded. Princess was purring now, and if he weren’t dressed up and trying to avoid cat hair, he’d pick her up. Okay, so maybe he’d miss her a little bit too.
Through all of this, his mom watched him with amusement.
“All right, Mom,” Declan said. “Let’s get that picture, or I’ll be late.”
She smiled, then fiddled with her phone. Declan reached over and pulled up the camera app, then handed the phone back.
His mom looked through the phone and backed up a couple of steps, then took a picture. Well, five of them.
“Thanks, son,” she said, her eyes watery. “You know, you never went to prom, and seeing you dressed up reminded me of that.”
Declan rested a hand on his mom’s shoulder. “I’ve dressed up plenty of times. You just haven’t been at my place to see.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek again. He didn’t need to be reminded that the reason he hadn’t gone to prom was because his best friend in high school had been killed in a drunk driving accident earlier in the week. No one in his group had gone to prom that weekend.
“Don’t forget, I want a picture of Camila’s dress,” his mom said. “And one with the two of you together. Promise.”
“I promise,” he said with a chuckle.
The air was crisp as he headed to his SUV. His collar felt a bit too tight, even though he’d had no trouble when wearing this tux before. There’d been enough formal events he’d attended over the years that owning a tux made sense. Once inside his SUV, he adjusted his collar, but there was really no way to adjust it. He was nervous, he realized.
Not to be with Camila but to be with her around all of her friends, as a couple. Her dad would be there too, and Declan had never really spent time with him in a purely social setting. Things with Mr. Brandon had been good for the most part. He hadn’t had to have any sort of discussion with Coach about Declan’s staying on the team—that had all been Coach’s decision. And for that Declan was grateful. Like he’d told Camila, he wanted to earn his starting position. Not have politics or favoritism involved.
Of course, if things continued to progress with Camila, his teammates would probably see any privilege or perceived advantage given to Declan as just that. But he could handle a couple of hockey players.
Declan pulled into Camila’s condo complex. His tux still felt tight. He’d told Camila that although he owned a tux, he spent the shortest amount of time possible at formal events. He was only going for the food and the chance to dance with her.
Camila had laughed. Then she’d kissed him. He forgot any of his other arguments after that.
He found that was happening a lot lately with her. Their discussions often turned into kissing. Not that Declan was complaining, but how was he supposed to spend an entire evening with Camila and not kiss her? They’d be in public, and that would make it impossible.
When he parked in front of Camila’s place, he still hadn’t resolved the issue in his mind.
