Page 48 of From Ice to Grace
My mom’s saying echoes in my mind: ‘Don’t give an undeserving person time in your life, your mind, or your heart.’
But right now, I can’t help but wonder who am I to decide who deserves my time or my help. Is that not up to God?
Declan may have been on my mind for a while and somehow he’s slipped into my prayers. And perhaps that was God’s decision too.
At least I know my heart is safe.
The next morning, I’m up early.
It’s Sunday morning, and I told Hannah and Lucas I’d go to church with them today. I need it more than ever. I have to refocus. I need to get back to base. It’s like I’ve been rocked off my axis with my visa, my job…and last night with Declan.
I haven’t had the guts to open the NHL app and read the headlines this morning. I don’t think I should. My life is already going up in flames, I don’t need to add fuel to the fire.
What I need is stability. And there’s nothing more solid than the God who spoke the universe into being.
Father, I need Your help to refocus. To get back on track. To put my heart and my life back together again.
Taking absolutely longer than necessary, I shower and get ready before heading into the living room. I still can’t believe I let Declan into my house last night. In doing so, I let him in on a part of my life I’ve kept hidden.
He may have been a bit out of it last night when he asked me whether or not I was moving. However, this morning, there’s no way he’s going to miss it. The boxes are stacked against the walls. You’d have to be completely blind to not notice it.
Which means I’m telling EJ what’s happening, whether I’m ready or not.
I’m still angry at my brother. Deep down I know he only meant well, but that doesn’t take away from this feeling that he thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself.
I might be his little sister, but I’m an adult.
When I finally walk into the living room, Declan is still sprawled across the couch, still asleep. His chest rises and falls steadily, his dark hair mussed and falling over his forehead. For a moment I just watch him.
And I don’t know what to make of it.
He doesn’t look anything like the man who pushes every button I have, who strings along women, who makes headlines on a daily basis. Instead he looks…tired. Human.
The gurgle of the coffee machine breaks the silence, and Declan stirs. A low groan rumbling from his throat.
“Oh no…” he moans and I can’t resist looking over my shoulder as he sits up and assesses his situation. “What the…”
He lifts his gaze, confusion shifting into recognition as the previous night comes rushing back to him. He lifts his hand to his eye, as if confirming the injury.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, turning back to the coffee machine. Grabbing two cups and some pain relief from the cupboard, I look back to him again. “I’m guessing you’d like some caffeine?"
The couch shifts beneath his weight as he gets up and walks to the kitchen, raking fingers through his hair.
“I might need all of it,” he says, his voice still gruff with sleep. Seeing him like this feels strangely intimate and I fight the blush creeping up my neck for some reason.
Turning around to meet him, I hand him pain relief and a glass of water.
“This might help too,” I say, gently placing it in his hand. His fingers brush my hand and he looks up at me.
“You’re a Godsend, Snowflake,” he says before taking the medication.
If you only knew how God insisted last night.
I turn away from him, pouring two cups of coffee, switching mine to a travel mug instead. Being this close to Declan is throwing me off. Last night when he was intoxicated and half-conscious, it didn’t feel like I had anything to lose. But now that he’s sober and clearheaded, it’s like we’re back on even ground. And right now, he’s too close and too big here in my kitchen. Plus, the faint smell of bourbon still lingers.
“I’m heading out in a few minutes.” I hand him his cup of coffee, lifting my travel mug as if to prove that I’m not lying.
“Where are you going?” he asks, taking a sip. “Do you have any cream?”
