A waitress comes by and takes our order. I order a club soda and Declan scrunches his nose. “I like club soda,” I insist. “And it has no sugar.”
“I’ll take a Coke and my usual,” he tells the waitress.
“What’s your usual?” I ask.
“It’s a pepperoni pizza. Simple,” he says.
“I’ll take a pizza with green peppers, mushrooms, and black olives,” I say.
The waitress nods and smiles.
We go back to staring at each other. “Care to elaborate?”
“I told Wolfe and Cole, well basically all the guys on the team, that my parents live in Detroit but I made it seem like they have this great marriage and that they are comfortable and happy,” he scoffs. “I feel like such an asshole about it now. I mean, my friends tell me about all their problems and their families aren’t perfect by any means, but add to it the fact that I’m dirt-poor and. . .”
This time I do reach out my hand to him. “You’re socio-economic status doesn’t define you.”
“Don’t tell me you believe that,” he snickers.
“I do,” I insist. “Look, we both made it to Westfall. One of the best universities in the country. That’s a ticket out of poverty for people like me and you,” I say.
“I guess you’re right,” he exhales.
Our food arrives and my stomach grumbles. “This looks so good.”
We begin to eat and the pizza is amazing with thin crust and delicious sauce.
The meal is uneventful because Declan is clearly starving after playing a hockey game.
His cell rings and he picks it up. His face falls and he begins to curse quietly, only saying words like when and how then dammit.
“I’m at the pizzeria. . . I can’t ask them for their car,” he snaps. “I also have a game tomorrow night. I can’t just take off. Well, how is he now?” Declan looks like he’s about ready to explode. I don’t know if it’s from grief or he’s angry. “Just keep me posted,” he says and he ends the call.
“Is everything okay?” I ask carefully.
He places his hands on his forehead and elbows on the table. His long brown hair moves off his forehead. “No, my brother is in the hospital. Had an asthma attack during a game.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, look. I’ll just get the bill and it’s best if I walk you back to campus.”
I nod. When the bill comes I place a twenty on the table but he refuses my money and pays the whole bill, saying he gets family pricing. On the way out he tells me to give him a minute and he walks over to his aunt. They talk between them and then his aunt’s hands come up to her face and she palms her cheeks and looks distressed. I feel terrible for Declan but I’m at a loss of what to do.
He gives his aunt a hug and then walks over to me. I give his aunt a brief wave before we leave the restaurant.
“I can get myself back to campus if you have something you need to do,” I offer.
“I’m not letting you walk these streets alone at night,” he says, but there’s been a shift in his tone. Obviously, he is upset about his brother but something else is brewing too.
I choose to just nod and let him walk me back to campus. When we get close to the Student Center, I tell him he doesn’t have to walk me all the way. I figure this way he can head home faster and talk with his mom in private.
“Please don’t write about any of this,” he says.
“You really don’t need to worry. Honestly, I would never. I know it’s hard for you to believe but I know how hard Ryse has worked to make it here. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for you,” I reassure him.
“I know. I know, sorry. Just my head is all messed up,” he says and I can see how stressed he is.
“Can I help in any way?” I ask.
“I’m. . . just not used to talking to people about my problems,” he admits.
“I get that, but I’m here and I’m a pretty good listener,” I offer, trying to reassure him because I hate how broken he is in this moment. He looks like a lost boy and I want to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but then I feel like maybe I am somehow projecting my situation on him. The last two years I was living at home were so hard without Ryse. Before, Ryse left for Westfall we had each other. Once Ryse left I was on my own, literally, because mom was working all the time and when she wasn’t working, she was exhausted and sleeping. My life was lonely.
Without thinking, I step toward Declan. His brows furrow and still I move forward and just hug him. At first he doesn’t know what’s happening and his arms lay lax beside him, but then he exhales and wraps his arms around me too. He holds me and it’s as if unspoken words pass between us and the world doesn’t seem so daunting or lonely in this very moment.
“My family is in big trouble, Poppy. My mom didn’t have money to take my brother to the hospital so his coach lied about my brother’s identity and said he was another kid so that insurance would cover the hospital visit,” he says, his voice filled with tension and maybe fear.
I pull my head back slightly. “Is your brother okay, though?”
“Yeah, they got him on steroids,” he explains. “He’s stable.”
“Stable is good,” I say.
“Yeah, but what they did tonight was illegal. It could cost my brother his career,” Declan says. “How is he ever going to leave Detroit?”
“It wasn’t your brother who committed the fraud,” I say to Declan. “It’s either on your mom or the coach.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I don’t really know how it works,” he says. “What I do know is that I need to find a way to get him enough meds to make it through the season. He needs to show the scouts he can play for a D1 team. If news gets out about his condition, that’ll never happen.” I realize that we are still in an embrace as Declan cleanses himself of all that worries him.
“There must be a way to help your brother. We can find a legit way,” I say to him.
He chuckles through his sadness. “Are you always this optimistic?”
“That’s a loaded question,” I retort, feeling all kinds of things in Declan’s arms, besides his warm breath and having his hard body pressed to mine. “My life hasn’t been easy. I’ve learned to be resourceful. That’s how I made it here.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” he says and his eyes linger on my lips. “You’re also a sweet distraction.”
His words leave me a little tongue-tied, which is rare for me. I like to think of myself as being quick on my toes, which is an attribute I hope will help me as a journalist, but right now I am putty in this hockey player’s arms.
This time it’s me moving toward Declan. My lips tingling with need. Our lips press together and a spark shoots through me. It lands in my chest and circles down in my belly, causing a whole eruption of emotions. His lips move with mine and when his tongue comes out to play, I feel greedy for his taste. The kiss gets heated faster than our last two kisses. Maybe it’s because there is a familiarity there now. Our tongues move together and then he licks my lips and my tongue dances with his, and it feels like fireworks are going off all around us as the world spins out of focus.