Page 37 of From Ice to Grace
From across the room, Declan meets my gaze and I can’t help the knee-jerk reaction of sending a glare in his direction. I’ve seen the video of the hit so many times today, on every social media platform. Every one of them talking about how aggressive Declan is, what a liability he is…and of course speculations about the possibility of a trade.
He might be suspended after that play last night, but tonight, he looks every bit the part of AllStar hockey player. His dark hair is tamed and his navy blue suit is perfectly tailored, but beneath his eyes there are faint circles that haven’t been there before. His jaw is tight and his hands are dug deep in his pockets like he’s holding back with everything he’s got.
There’s a woman next to him, a woman who’s not Melissa. Judging by the way they’re standing, I’m not sure if she’s here with him or not. Maybe not…she looks very different from his usual type. For starters her dress is floor length.
She looks extremely…nice and normal even.
I bite my tongue, scolding myself internally. Stop being catty.
Please, Father, help me to be kind. Help me to not judge, help me to guard my mouth…just help.
“Avah,” Hannah greets me and I lean in to hug my friend. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Yes, well, if EJ would just bring a date instead of his sister we could see each other over ice-cream and movies like normal people do.” I tug on my dress again, feeling a bit self-conscious with the way Declan’s eyes are gliding over my choice of attire. “And we can do it in sweats or pajamas.”
Hannah smiles. “This is Lynn,” she says, gesturing toward the woman next to Declan. “We know each other from church and she was so nice to agree to meet Declan tonight.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, hoping my smile is genuine as I look between her and Declan. I have nothing against her, I don’t know her. And yet, there’s something strange stirring inside of me at the thought of the two of them spending the evening together.
Still, I can’t manage to move my smile into something genuine and I can’t seem to take my eyes off the two of them. They just don’t…fit.
What was Hannah thinking?
Declan smiles, the small dimple in his cheek making an appearance.
“Want to say that out loud, Snowflake?” he asks, his Boston accent grating against my nerves.
I shrug taking a sip of my champagne. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure, you don’t.” He chuckles deeply.
I swallow down the retort that’s far from friendly and closer to unkind, angry, and maybe even a little uncalled for. Instead, I try to summon some semblance of kindness.
“I’m sorry to hear about your suspension,” I say, genuinely meaning it.
Last night it was clear to anyone with eyes that Declan was going through something. I can only imagine how he must be feeling right now…and that’s the only reason I’m trying to keep myself from saying anything that might be hurtful.
He shrugs, rocking on his feet. “Eight games, two weeks, zero practice—can’t see how that’s supposed to stop me from punching people.”
He’s not wrong. In my experience, hockey players need the icetime like normal people need air. Having him off the ice for two weeks might be a slap on the wrist, but it’s definitely going to add to his frustration.
“We’ll have to see if you can still skate by the time you’re allowed back,” I toss back. “You’ll have to focus on your feet instead of your fists.”
He chuckles, low and unexpected. Hannah’s gaze flicks between us, curious, while EJ’s jaw tightens like he’s one word away from stepping in.
“Don’t you have anything better to do on a Saturday than go on a date with this guy?” Declan asks, his eyes holding amusement and a challenge.
Instead of answering him, I turn to my brother, who’s still glaring at Declan.
“Yes EJ, why didn’t you bring a date?” I ask, watching as a small frown forms on Lynn’s face.
“I know for a fact Liz is still in town,” Hannah chimes in, her gaze falling on me. “She’s an absolute natural at these types of events. She could’ve given us a few pointers.”
EJ takes a slow sip of his drink, deliberately avoiding our gazes, his attention still locked on his teammate.
“Everyone else seems to have brought one,” I add, lifting my glass. “Even Declan. Not that he’s ever without a date.”
I glance at him, hoping my expression is neutral, unreadable. He’s just a man who brought a woman to a function.
