Breakaway, page 2
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
“Are you taking notes, Loop?” another player said. “I saw what you posted last night.”
“Shut up,” Loop shot back. “I only post PG stuff.”
“Riiight.”
“Enough,” Coach Walker said, shaking his head. Then he looked at Camila. “Good luck with these yahoos.”
Camila knew the man was teasing, but she wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to force any of the players to delete posts if they treated it like a joke. And then, just like that, Coach Walker headed out with the other coaches. A few of the guys trailed out. Others started talking about going to some grill nearby.
“Better keep your phone in your pocket,” Loop said with a laugh. A sarcastic laugh.
“Can you help me weed out my posts?” Hammer said, stopping in front of Camila. “I’m pretty sure they’re okay, but I might need a woman’s perspective.”
His were the most out of line compared to the rest of the team. Plenty of pictures at parties and bars, and most of the girls he was with looked drunk.
Camila drew in a breath. “I’ve already looked at your pictures.”
“Oh, wow,” Hammer said with a slow smile, his gaze moving down the length of her body, then back up. “See anything you like?”
“I’d say that ninety percent of them were either disgusting or tacky,” she deadpanned.
Hammer’s brows pulled together as if he was trying to decide if she was teasing or being rude. Only honest, in her opinion.
Then that crooked smile of his edged onto his face. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, sweetheart?”
Her mouth nearly fell open. Instead, she took a step back. How had he gotten so close?
“Leave her alone,” another guy said.
From the back row of chairs.
Camila glanced over to see that the room had cleared of everyone else, except for Declan Rivera, still sitting in his place, dark eyes glowering at Hammer.
Hammer chuckled. “Chill, dude. I’m just talking to the lady.”
Declan slowly, deliberately, got to his feet.
If the two men stood side by side, Hammer was about an inch or two taller. But even from across the room, Camila could see that Declan was more built, more solid, and definitely more intimidating. His short-sleeved shirt left no guesses as to the definition of his sculpted arms.
“She answered your question, so it’s time to leave,” he said in a calm voice.
Something like annoyance flashed in Hammer’s gaze, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to get into any sort of argument with Declan Rivera.
“I guess I’ll email you if I need anything else,” Hammer said, his blue eyes back on her, searching for any sign of softening on her part.
“That will be fine,” she said, keeping her tone formal. “And be sure to review the guidelines the coach sent out last week.”
Hammer dipped his head, a coy smile on his face. Then he strode out of the room.
Now . . . it was time to acknowledge Declan. She looked over at him. He was watching her, and she got the sense that he was a guy who saw past first impressions and really studied a person. A bit unnerving, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Thanks for shooing him out,” she said.
“No problem.” He folded his arms, which only emphasized his powerful body. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know. Or anyone else on the team for that matter.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, surprised at his offer. Had he just gone caveman on her? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. “I’ve been around a lot of hockey players with egos. Believe me, they’re the same everywhere.”
One of his brows lifted slightly.
All right, so maybe this wasn’t something to discuss with a hockey player. “If you have some free time right now, I can help you get your social media accounts set up.”
“Okay.”
Why was he looking at her so intensely? “Great.” She moved a chair to a table at the side of the room, then pulled her laptop out of her bag. It would be easier to set things up on her computer; then he could download all the apps and log in. “I’ll try to be quick so you can meet your teammates at the bar.”
“I’m not meeting them at the bar,” he said.
“Right, well, whatever your plans are, I won’t keep you long.”
He nodded and walked toward where she was sitting at the table. He picked up a chair and shifted it over, then sat only a couple of feet away from her.
So . . . he smelled rather nice. Like freshly showered man, which, of course he was. She pulled up the browser on her laptop, then connected to her phone’s hotspot. Sitting this close to Declan Rivera was not something that should put her every sense on alert. She should not be feeling the butterflies in her stomach. She should not be noticing the ring on the middle finger of his right hand, or how the muscles in his forearms looked like they’d been sculpted by an artist.
Just because she’d sworn off men for a while, didn’t mean she couldn’t be attracted, right? It was chemistry, that was it. And definitely on her part. Declan said he wasn’t going to a bar, which probably meant he had a woman waiting for him somewhere. Maybe they had reservations at a restaurant.
“Are you going to open anything up?” His voice cut into her thoughts.
She was literally staring at nothing while the browser marched through a slew of ads. “Right. I was just thinking about which ones you should be on.” Lie. She stole a glance at him. Yep. His eyes were on her. “Which ones do you prefer?”
“None.” His voice was low, but his gaze had softened as their eyes connected again.
“Since that’s not an option, what is the lesser of the poisons?”
He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, which only drew her attention to his physical appearance.
Eyes on the laptop, she commanded herself.
“How about I let you decide,” he said. “You’re the expert.”
There was no teasing in his voice, but she still wondered. “All right, then. How about Instagram and Twitter. You can post to one account, then share with the other. That way, you’re really only doing one post. Instagram focuses on pictures, but a lot of Twitter posts are just words.”
His brows tugged together.
“You know . . . Twitter allows two hundred and eighty characters,” she continued. “Here, let’s look up one of your teammates. How about Runt?”
“Anyone but Hammer.”
She felt a smile try to escape. “You two aren’t buddies?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She had to look at him then. This close up, she realized his eyes weren’t solely brown. There was a splash of gold close to his black pupils. “Seems like a nice guy,” she deadpanned. “At least he thinks he is. Not lacking in confidence, that’s for sure.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Declan said, and she was pretty sure he almost smiled.
Goodness. She had no doubt when Declan Rivera smiled, it would be fantastic. She typed in the Twitter website and although it was logged automatically into her account, she bypassed any of her posts. She typed in Ryan Sinclair. “There he is.” The Chargers logo was a dead giveaway. “Right now I can say that the Chargers logo is an okay choice for his avatar.”
“Avatar?” Declan’s voice rasped.
“Yeah, his profile picture,” Camila said. “But it also might be confused with some of the fan accounts.” She typed in a couple of search words, and several Twitter feeds popped up, all with the same logo.
“Oh, I see.”
“So . . . if Ryan had a picture of himself wearing a Chargers jersey, then that would get the point across and also identify him at the same time.”
Declan nodded. “Makes sense.”
She took another peek at him. He seemed to be reading what was on the screen.
“What picture do you want to use?” Camila opened another browser tab and typed his name into Google Images. “One from your team?”
“No.” He fished out his phone from his pocket, then opened his picture app.
She tried to keep her eyes on the laptop as she switched back to Twitter to look up one of the other Chargers players. But it was oh so tempting to look at the pictures Declan was scrolling through.
“Okay, this one.”
She looked over to the picture he’d opened up. She couldn’t have been more surprised. The picture was of Declan in a suit standing next to a woman who had to be his mother. Same dark eyes, same olive skin, although the woman was about half the size of him.
“Is that your mom?”
“Yeah.”
Don’t pry, she told herself. “I love it.”
Declan selected the picture. “Do I email it to you or something?”
“Yeah, that would be easiest.” She recited her email, then opened up her email account. After saving the picture to her computer, she logged out of Twitter. “Let’s try your name first as a username.”
“Oh wow,” he said as names filtered onto the screen, “there’s a lot of Declan Riveras.”
“Don’t worry,” Camila said. “We’ll add your number. Eleven, right?”
“Right.”
She felt his gaze on her again as she typed in the new username. “It’s available.”
His eyes cut back to the screen. “Great.”
“And . . .” She turned the laptop so that only he could see it. “Type in a password that you’ll be able to remember.”
He did, and frankly she was impressed that he didn’t hunt and peck at the keys but instead typed quickly.
Once they had Twitter set up, they registered his Instagram account next. Then Camila showed him how to post from the app and add in relevant hashtags.
Ten minutes later, she said, “Well, that should give you a great start. And remember, you can email me with any questions along the way. Just be sure to read through the instructions I’ve sent to the team about what to post and what not to. There will also be promotional things you’ll all have to post on the same days.”
She logged out of everything, then powered down her laptop and rose to her feet.
He was still sitting, and she wondered what was going through his mind.
“Well, thanks for staying after,” she said. “Having you and all the players on board will make my job a lot easier.” She shouldered her bag.
“Where are you parked?”
“Out back somewhere,” she said with a shrug. “North, I think.”
He nodded, then stood. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Declan was tall, and she had to look up to meet his gaze. “Thanks for the offer.” She stepped away and moved toward the door. “But I don’t want to make you late for your plans.”
He said nothing as she left the room. In the corridor the air was thankfully much cooler. About ten steps down the hallway, she heard the door open behind her. Declan had stepped out, and his footsteps were coming in her direction.
Camilla continued walking, and so did he. Maybe he was parked in the same area? She glanced behind, but he wasn’t even looking at her. He walked with a large duffle slung over his shoulder, his eyes on his phone.
Whatever. She reached the exit and pushed through it. Spotting her car, the lone one in the parking lot, she set off toward it.
Then the door to the exit opened again. She couldn’t help but glance back.
Declan was standing there, watching her.
She lifted her hand in a half wave, and he merely nodded. He stayed there until she got into her car and started it. Only when she pulled forward from the parking space did he disappear back inside.
“Denver’s nice, Mom,” Declan said over the phone. “At least consider a condo, if not a house. I don’t like you so far away on your own.”
The words hung heavy between them. His mom lived alone because his father had passed away last year. Declan had been traded to the Chargers soon after, and things had been a whirlwind. But now that some time had passed and Declan felt more secure on his team, he wanted his mom at least in the same state as him. He started pacing the tiled floor of the condo he’d bought when he moved to Colorado.
His condo complex was in a nice, upscale area just outside of Denver. He didn’t know if he’d ever buy a house for himself while he was still playing hockey. He didn’t want to worry about the upkeep when he was gone so much. Also, there was the minor detail of him getting traded every couple of years.
“I’ve been in this neighborhood for thirty years,” his mom said, “and I’m managing fine on my own.”
She was, and she wasn’t. Declan had entertained plenty of phone calls about things like where the best place was to get an oil change and how to shut off the outside water for the winter. Whenever he got a chance to go home, he did, and he took care of everything he could think of. Yet inevitable things kept cropping up.
It wasn’t that his mom was incapable, but she’d handled certain things while his dad had done other things. Now his mom was doing it all on their social security benefits.
She had never accepted the fact that Declan made more in a year than she could make in a lifetime, or that he was willing to pay her living expenses. Both of his parents were stubborn. Their stubbornness and frugality had enabled them to put Declan through club hockey and pay for the fees and traveling costs. That was no small thing, and Declan would never take their sacrifices for granted.
But the neighborhood his mom lived in had become run-down in the last decade. Their house was modest by any standard, and Declan didn’t like the fact that major things were having to be repaired and replaced now.
“You could stay at my place for a few weeks,” he said. “Look around, see what you think, before you make a final decision.”
“What would I do with Princess?”
Declan sighed. “That thing’s still alive?”
“She’s not a thing, she’s a cat.”
Oh, he knew. A cat that hated him. “Bring her.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d regret them. But how else was he to get his mom to come for an extended—possibly permanent—stay?
“She can’t fly,” his mom said.
This was progress, actually. “Sure she can,” Declan said. “Airlines take very good care of pets.”
“They drug them,” his mom said. “I’m not having Princess drugged.”
Declan moved to the kitchen window that overlooked the lawn sloping to the parking lot. If his mom wouldn’t fly with the cat, then she’d have to drive. Not an option. “What about the Gardners? Couldn’t they watch Princess for a bit?”
“For a couple of days,” his mom said. “A few weeks would be too long. Princess would get depressed.”
Declan wanted to laugh, although it was far from funny. He supposed that animals could get depressed, but really, what did a cat need? Food and a litter box, that’s what. He braced one of his hands against the wall next to the window. “I could drive you.”
“You’re in season,” his mom said. “You don’t have time, Declan. I’m fine here, really. You worry too much.”
“I wouldn’t have to worry so much if you were in Denver.” He put his phone on speaker and looked up his schedule as he moved again, then leaned against the kitchen island. He could ask for a practice day off and fly in the night before. Drive all day from Chicago to Denver, then be at practice the next morning.
He’d have to rent a car, because his mom still drove her fifteen-year-old Toyota Corolla despite Declan’s offer to replace it.
“Can you be ready by Monday?”
“Declan—”
“I can miss one practice,” he said.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, which was a good sign because it meant that she was thinking about it.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone doubtful.
“I’m sure.”
She exhaled. “Talk to your coach first, then let me know what he says.”
“Will do.” Declan felt like celebrating. This was a major hurdle for his mother.
“Thank you, Declan,” his mother said. “You’re a good son.”
The compliment was nice, but that didn’t dispel the immense sacrifices he’d put his parents through. Taking care of his mom was the least he could do.
When he hung up, the enormity of what he’d promised settled in. He sent a quick text to his coach, explaining that his widowed mother needed help.
Then he walked into the sparse living room that he’d barely furnished with a couch and a single table. Sitting down, he replied to the most recent messages in the group chat that consisted of five other guys from his former Northbrook Hockey Elite club team. They’d all played club together in Chicago, and from there most of them had been drafted into the NHL.
Recently, they’d all reconnected at a massive fundraising event set up to raise money for the club and scholarships. Soon after, they’d started a group text thread, and it was still going strong. One of them had named it The Pit, and Declan found it fitting. It had become a dumping ground for serious discussions and more lighthearted stuff.
Plus, these guys had played all over the country and relocated plenty of times. Maybe they would have tips on how to move a stubborn mother and her cat.
Need some advice, he wrote. Trying to talk my mom into moving to Denver to be closer to me. I don’t like her by herself all the time. But she has this cat, and she refuses to fly . . .
You’re toast, Zane Winchester wrote. Cats don’t travel well.
Declan grimaced, then wrote, Tell me something I don’t know.
Get her a dog, Trane Jones wrote, a.k.a. Diesel. Goalie for the Michigan Comets.
Real, helpful, Diesel. That was Rocco, who played for the Wyoming Steers. You can hire a pet company to move the cat.
There’s such a thing? Declan asked.
For the rich, there is, Rocco said. If you were a goalie, it would be no problem.
Hey! Diesel wrote. It was true, though; as the goalie for the Comets, Diesel made bank.
A GIF popped up on the screen, sent by Jax Emerson, star forward of the Chicago Flyers. The GIF was of a cat startling and jumping onto a kid. Soon it was followed by another GIF, courtesy of Jax, with the flashing word MEOW.
