Page 42 of From Ice to Grace
“It doesn't matter. Because you’re suspended. Which means I won’t be able to come to your games for two weeks.”
I frown, caught offguard. “I didn’t think coming to my games was so important to you.”
She looks at me. “What did you think this was about? I wear the jersey, I support…you play. If you’re not going to be able to keep up your end of the deal, then I can’t do this. If you don’t play, there’s no benefit for me in keeping up with this relationship.”
The words land harder than I expect. Not because I want her, but because even she can see the truth: I’m worth nothing if I’m not on the ice. Not even her time.
I drag a hand over my mouth, struggling to bite back a laugh. I can’t believe this. She’s breaking up with me, breaking our agreement. Me. Declan Murphy. I’ve never once had a woman walk away early. Not in my life. They’re always the ones who cling too long. And here comes one to end it first…and early to boot.
Laughter escapes anyway and she looks at me with narrowed eyes.
“It’s been fun, Declan, but I’m out.”
I guess that’s what you get if you enter into agreements with someone who’s only in it for the jersey…not the player.
“Got it,” I say, with a sharp nod. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Melissa.”
Her eyes soften for a second as she takes me in. She steps closer and presses a kiss against my cheek.
“Good luck, Declan.” She offers half a smile before leaving.
“Thanks,” I mutter, the words tasting bitter.
The door clicks shut behind her and the silence rushes in. EJ’s warning, Harry’s PTO news, Jenn’s disappointment…it all adds up, pressing down on my chest. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes as I take a deep breath.
I don’t want to face anyone right now. I don’t have it in me to listen to their advice, see their pity and ignore their whispers.
There’s only one place I can go to drown all of this out.
The clinking of glasses and low muttering of voices is kind of soothing. At least I’m not the only one in this place tonight. That might just have been too pathetic…even for me.
Mike’s has its usual crowd of patrons. The couple in the corner who didn’t come here for the booze, the group of women knocking back tequila shots, deadset on having a good time and the usual regulars hunched over their drinks.
Except the table I usually occupy with my teammates is empty.
Seems right.
My gaze meets the older man at the other end of the bar. His hand is shaking as he reaches for his drink, his shoulders slumped, his eyes trained on the glass in front of him. His grey hair pokes out from beneath his faded cap as he downs his drink. A drink that’s clearly not an escape…but rather a punishment.
Just like your father.
You knew you’d end up here, eventually.
The thought has my stomach twisting, but I still reach for the bourbon in front of me. As much as the image of the older man sends chills down my spine, I can’t bring myself to leave the drink in front of me. The alcohol burns down my throat, a small victory of the day. A reminder of the promises I made to myself and to my old man echoes through my mind.
I won’t ever be like you.
I’ll be better than you, stronger than you.
It’s partially true. I’m not where he is…yet. Looking up, my gaze pauses on the image in the mirror at the back of the bar. For a second, the man staring back at me looks a bit too familiar to my liking. The same vacant eyes, shoulders carrying the same weight.
The blood in my veins feels heavier than it should.
Blood is life.
Where is that from? A movie? A song? An old sermon I blocked out years ago?
And if it’s true, does that mean my dad’s life is now mine, because his blood is in my veins?
