Breakaway, page 7
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
He only nodded and said, “Great. So things are coming together?”
“Yep.” She told him about the contacts she’d already made as they headed up the corridor. She felt his gaze on her as she talked, but she kept her eyes forward. It was safer that way.
When he opened the exit door for her, she passed by him, ignoring their close proximity. She zipped up her sweatshirt more as the cool air penetrated. Immediately, she saw that he must be the black SUV parked next to her car. The truck sort of reminded her of him, large and domineering yet quietly protective.
“Well, thanks,” she said about halfway across the parking lot. Surely he wasn’t going to walk her to the door of her car.
“Do you work here late at night a lot?” he asked.
She looked over at him. “Depends when I can pull the ticket sales. My dad’s really harping on this social media thing, which is great, but he’s expecting a direct correlation to the ticket sales.”
“And how are the sales doing?”
“Up fifteen percent between the last two games,” she said, feeling proud of that at least. “Tomorrow night’s game is three-fourths sold out.”
“That’s progress, right?”
“It’s excellent progress,” Camila said. They’d reached her car, and she used her key fob to unlock the thing.
“Good to hear, then,” he said, his voice low, his eyes on her.
She bit her lip, then said, “Who’s Bree’s boyfriend? She mentioned that she was dating a pro athlete?”
His brow lifted slightly. “Clint McCarthy. He plays for the St. Louis Hawks.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of him.” She couldn’t explain the relief coursing through her at the confirmation. “Isn’t his brother Grizz McCarthy, the baseball catcher?”
“You know your sports.”
She shrugged. “When your dad’s the owner of a sports team, you grow up with it.”
Declan didn’t seem like he was about to leave anytime soon. “What was it like?”
Was he really interested? “It was mostly just me and my mom,” she said, leaning against her car door. “My dad was busy building his fortune in the dot-com industry. When he sold one of his companies, he decided to buy the Denver team. About that time is when my parents split up.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven,” she said. “I lived with my mom, and that was great. She was a strong woman, despite all the nasty rumors going around about her and my dad. How she drove him out, then asked for millions.”
Camila had no idea why she was telling Declan all of this. She’d only told Paige. “But then she got cancer.”
Declan frowned. Was this news to him? Camila supposed that her dad didn’t talk much about his dead ex-wife.
“It was quick,” Camila continued. “Within months of her diagnosis, she was gone. I was eighteen and getting ready for college. I almost quit a dozen times, but luckily Paige turned out to be a great roommate and was there for me during the rough spots.”
“I didn’t know your mom had passed away,” Declan said in a low voice. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
His kind words made Camila’s throat tighten. Because she knew he understood firsthand.
“I’m sorry about your dad too,” Camila said.
Declan rested a hand on her car, only a couple of feet from her. He looked past her, as if he was lost in thought. “He had cancer too. I guess it gets most people in the end.”
“Cancer sucks.”
His gaze shifted back to her. “Yep.”
“Were you guys close?”
Declan dragged a hand over his chin. “Yeah. My parents sacrificed everything to support me. Club hockey fees are no small matter, especially the team I was on at Northbrook. My dad worked days, my mom worked nights, hardly seeing each other. But they never missed any of my games. And they’d switch off coming to my out-of-town games. It wasn’t until I finally went pro that they ever let me help with any expenses.”
Camila was glad Declan had such a close, supportive family. That his parents were a united front. “How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s a trooper,” he said. “Took things in stride. Was at my dad’s side twenty-four seven since I insisted paying her bills during my dad’s illness.”
“I’m glad she could be with him.”
“Me too,” he said. “And now she’s here. Of course, by the time I get back tonight I think she’ll have rearranged my entire condo.”
Camila smiled at that, and Declan returned the smile.
Butterflies zoomed through her. Okay, she should really go. It was cold, and Declan had goosebumps on his arms.
“Well, I’m looking forward to showing her around,” Camila said.
“At the hair salon?” His tone held no censure this time.
“Whatever she wants.”
His eyes seemed to warm. “If it convinces her to move to Denver, then I’d be grateful for whatever you have to do to bribe her.”
“You think she needs bribing?”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay, then I’m on it.” She popped open the door.
“Camila.” Declan grasped her arm.
The movement stunned her, and she froze.
He released her arm but said, “Look, you’re helping me out a lot here. And if there’s anything you need that I can help you with, just let me know.”
“You’re already helping me, Declan.”
His brows drew together.
She shrugged. “You’re showing me that not all guys have an agenda when talking to me.”
Declan’s gaze moved across her face. “Is that why you wear the hats?”
“Part of it.”
He was waiting for her to continue, so she said, “Some guys, you excluded, see me and assume they can treat me like an object. I guess I got tired of it. Decided that with the Chargers, I’d skip all that.”
“So you hide beneath a hat?”
“I guess.”
A heartbeat passed. “I get why you’re doing it, but you don’t ever have to hide from me. I’m not that guy.”
Why did his words make her feel breathless? “Thanks, that’s good to hear.”
Declan nodded. “And really, if there’s anything you need, I’m serious when I say let me know. Also, stop coming here late at night. If you have to, I’ll meet you here.”
She could only stare at him.
He pushed off her car and took a step away. “You’re not who I thought you were, Camila Brandon.”
“Who’s that?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Doesn’t matter now.” He took another step away. “Drive safe.”
Her heart was racing way too fast. “Okay.” She climbed into her car. Declan hadn’t moved, and she could still feel his gaze on her even once she had pulled out of the parking lot and was heading down the street.
Did Camila come to the games? Declan wondered. If she did, would she be in the owner’s box with her dad?
Tonight his mom was at his game, sitting in the reserved seat he’d gotten for her. He had picked her out easily enough during the player introductions. So why was he apparently set on looking for Camila in a sea of green and white?
At best, it would be impossible to find her. Yet his gaze flicked to the boxes when the buzzer rang, signaling the end of period one. He trudged with his team to the locker room. Tonight they were playing the Michigan Comets, so he and Diesel, a.k.a. Trane Jones—former Northbrook teammate—had made dinner plans.
If there was one kid on the Northbrook team who had a mind of steel, it was Trane. He’d been a scholarship kid because his home life was a mess. Abusive dad, the whole works. Pretty much the opposite of Declan, but the two of them had always had a rapport. Both on and off the ice.
Now that the Chargers were up one to zero, Declan knew that Trane was going to come back on fire in the second period. He wouldn’t be letting another puck into his goalie net. Unless Declan had another breakaway up his sleeve. Something that would throw off the Comets’ defense.
After changing his jersey and listening to the coaches, Declan headed onto the ice. He did a double take when he saw who was sitting by his mom.
The woman was wearing a ball cap, but there was no doubt it was Camila. She wore a dark jacket, and beneath it he could see the familiar green of the team colors. Still, she had dressed nondescript, and Declan thought again about what she’d told him in the parking lot. Had she been harassed before? Sure, a beautiful woman would attract some attention from most guys, but being harassed was another matter.
His mom had said that she and Camila were doing something tomorrow. Had they planned to sit together at tonight’s game too? He eyed them as he moved across the ice into his position.
Camila was smiling at something his mother was saying, who seemed quite animated, telling some story or other.
Well, then. They seemed to be getting along fine.
This made Declan feel inordinately proud for some reason. Maybe this would be the first step in convincing his mom to remain in Denver. They had an appointment set up with a realtor the next day, in which they’d be shown various homes in retirement communities. Something he’d also had to talk his mom into.
This might all be easier with Camila on his side, helping him to convince his mom.
“What you smiling about?” Loop asked, passing by Declan on his way to his position.
“I’m not smiling.”
“Could have fooled me.”
The whistle blew, and the puck dropped. Declan shifted closer to Runt because the Comets already had control of the puck. But there was no way Declan was going to let any of them score. He glanced down the ice toward the Comets’ goalkeeper. Trane was ready, defending his goal. Well, Declan was ready too.
He blocked the shot on the Chargers goal before it could get to Runt, then Declan spun and hooked the puck. Passed to Loop, who passed to Hammer. One of the Comets collided with Hammer, and the puck skittered free, only to be picked up by Declan—and he made a breakaway toward the opposing goal.
The arena burst into cheers around him, but he focused on dodging the next Comet. Then a pass to Loop, who got rid of it again in two seconds.
Again, Declan hooked the puck, but it was too late. Nearly. A hulk of a guy plowed into Declan, but he’d already sent the shot high toward the top-right corner of the net. It missed Trane’s shoulder pad by a couple of centimeters and sailed into the net.
The arena erupted in celebration.
Chargers up, two to zero.
“Sorry, man,” Declan said as he skated behind the Comets goal, his stick raised in acknowledgement to the cheering spectators. “Guess you’re paying for dinner.”
Earlier that day in the Pit’s group chat, Trane had thrown out a bet. Whoever lost tonight had to pay. Which was significant, since everyone knew that Trane could eat anyone under the table.
“Still got almost two periods to go,” Trane shot back.
But they both knew a two-point deficit was hard to recover from, especially at a Chargers home game.
Declan smiled as his teammates surrounded him with congratulations.
Hammer shoved his shoulder. “Nice shot, dude.”
“Thanks, man,” Declan said. “Let’s keep it going, huh?”
“They’ll be coming hard,” Runt said as Declan took his position just before the next puck drop.
He had about a half second to find his mom in the crowd, and, well, Camila was still next to her. Both women were on their feet clapping.
The movement in front of him told Declan he’d let his attention stray too long. He skated at an angle, trying to make up for his missed attention, and collided with a Comet. Loop was on the other side, and he stole the puck, but not before Declan got an elbow to his face.
His eyes burned. At least his nose had been missed.
The ref blew the whistle, and the Comet punk named Todd was sent to the penalty box. The powerplay was great news for Declan even though his cheek was throbbing, since the Comets were now down one man. Yet the rest of second period was brutal, and Declan battled through pain while defending his team.
When the second period ended, Declan was soaked in sweat and headed straight for the showers. One more period to go, one more to hold off the Comets. After his shower, he checked his face in the mirror. The bruising was deep, and the swelling had started, but no skin had been broken. One of the trainers handed him an ice pack, and finally Declan had some relief.
“You’re distracted,” Runt said, as they ambled back to the arena with two minutes to spare before the puck drop.
“What are you talking about?” Declan said. “The Comets haven’t scored.”
“But they’ve been gaining on us, and you’ve missed three passes.”
So he had. If the score were flip-flopped, Declan was pretty sure he’d be on the bench.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Dice,” Runt continued. “I’m gonna be pissed if Coach puts in Card.”
“Got it.” Declan didn’t need any more reminders. Last time he’d been benched, about two weeks ago, the Chargers had been decimated by the Northern California Coyotes. Before getting benched, Declan had gotten just one puck past their star goalie, Tyler Nelson, and no other Charger managed to score during the game.
All Declan had to do was hang on for another twenty minutes. The Comets were back with a vengeance, and they fought for a win. They scored four minutes into the third period, and Declan got benched.
His stomach felt gutted as he sat on the bench and watched Card miss more passes than a twelve-year-old Little League player. How could the coach even consider Card a replacement? Even at Declan’s worst, which was apparently right now, he could outplay Card.
When the Comets scored a second time with only three minutes to go, Declan shot to his feet. The boos of the arena mirrored his thumping heart. If they lost this game—and after all the social media that Camila had done to sell tickets—not only would Denver be let down but Camila as well.
“Put me in, Coach,” he said. Something he might not have dared to do in his first season as a Chargers player. But now . . .
Coach swung his narrowed gaze to Declan.
“Put me in, or we lose the game.”
“No one can guarantee that,” Coach ground out.
“I can.”
“Go.”
It was the one word that Declan needed.
Coach signaled for Card, and Declan was on the ice in seconds, back into the thick of the game. The Comets took two more shots on goal, missing both, but it was only a matter of time right now unless the Chargers scored.
“Send it!” Declan called to Loop as he was double-teamed.
The puck went free, and Declan hooked it, then skated around one Comet player, then two. Instead of shooting at Trane, who was more than ready to block, Declan dribbled around the back of the net.
Passing to Hammer, Declan skated backwards, a hard right.
It was something they’d practiced before, but they hadn’t ever pulled it off in a game.
Hammer sent the puck back to Declan, but two guys were practically on top of him. So Declan shoved through them, ramming his shoulder hard against someone’s pads. So hard that he felt his shoulder pop.
His right shoulder wasn’t working. The pain would come, that he knew, but for now, he only saw the net and the space to the left of Trane.
So with his left hand gripping the hockey stick, he made a final attempt. The puck shot like a bullet. Not to the left of Trane, but directly between his closing knees as he dropped to the ice.
Absolute silence whooshed through the arena, then the sound of what could have been thunder crashed down.
Holy crap, he’d done it. He’d scored. And, damn, the pain in his shoulder had finally caught up to him, and he hissed out a curse. The fire in his joint told him he’d dislocated it.
The fans were screaming and stamping their feet as the clock ticked down the final three seconds. The buzzer rang, and the cheers were deafening.
Runt skated away from his goal and was about to bear-hug Declan, when the expression on his face must have stopped him. “He’s hurt!” Runt shouted.
“It’s dislocated, that’s all,” Declan said through gritted teeth as the medic reached him. “No, don’t touch that side. I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Despite the pain that made him want to bite through his hockey stick, he made a victory lap on the ice.
The fans ate it up, cheering and chanting, “Dice! Dice! Dice!”
His eyes were too blurry to make out his mom or Camila. Once he reached the bench, he gave in to the pain and sat on the bench with his eyes closed for a second.
The medic was before him again, asking questions. “Has this happened before, Mr. Rivera?”
“Yeah, a couple of times,” Declan said, opening his eyes. “Help me out of these pads, then pop it back in. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Carefully, the medic removed his jersey and pads. About fifteen seconds later, Declan might have cursed about eight hundred times, but his shoulder was back in place.
“You were right, Declan,” Coach said.
Declan shifted his watery gaze to look up at his coach.
“Nice shot.”
Declan could only nod, because he wasn’t sure if any of his words would be coherent.
His team shuffled around him, making sure he was okay. He nodded at their congratulations.
Trane was the last to approach the bench, his red-and-white Comets jersey like an angry slash in the sea of green.
“You okay?” he asked, his expression truly worried.
“Perfect, and I’m starving,” Declan ground out.
Trane scoffed, but a smile edged his mouth. “I’ll meet you in the portal.”
One of the trainers helped take Declan’s skates off so that he wouldn’t have to bend down yet. Then Declan lumbered to his feet, his shoulder still aching something fierce. His mom was waiting for him as he entered the portal, something his mom and dad had always done. They’d skip the chaos of the after-game celebration and congratulate him more personally on his way to the locker room.
