Page 5 of Broken Promises

“Princess —”

“Don’t even try to soften this with nicknames, Declan,” I say, interrupting him again. “Do you understand how hard it is to constantly see your best friend ripped apart in the media? Then, to make it worse, you give them more fodder for their bullshit fire.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The pacing has stopped.

“You’re the best person I know. Why are you trying so hard to be someone else?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“I’ve been like this for years, Willa. Maybe it is who I am.” I can hear the defeat in his voice. I stare at the gray floor of the bus, watching the lights come and go as we pass by street lamps. Declan is lost, but can someone who feels just as lost as he does help him?

“I know who you are, Dec. Even if you don’t. I’ll remind you every damn day if I need to.”

“You’re my best friend forever and ever and ever.”

I laugh and shake my head. “You’re mine too, hockey boy.”

“Thanks for the kick in the ass, Princess.”

“Just do better, Dec. If I get another notification in the middle of the night that gives me a heart attack, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“I’ll work on it. I promise,” he says. It’s the best I’m going to get right now, so I let it go.

“I’m going back to bed. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

“Good night, hockey boy.”

I slowly shuffle back to my bunk, my heart rate finally back to normal. Glancing over at Mav’s bunk, I see him leaning out of the curtain and staring at me. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I shrug. He holds my gaze for a moment before shutting his curtain. The good thing about Maverick is he never asks questions.

Sleep is fitful at best. My dreams are filled with images of my best friend going up in a fiery blaze.

TWO

declan

Every inchof me is covered in sweat as I continue to push myself to the limit on the treadmill. After the call with Willa last night, I’ve been feeling like more of an asshole than usual. Willa doesn’t cry, yet she did last night. I made her cry. I haven’t been able to stop myself from hearing the sound of her sobs.

A tanned forearm reaches over and slams on the red stop button before I can stop it.

“What the hell, man? I wasn’t done!” I shout at Hank. Well, I try to shout. I can barely catch my breath. He just rolls his eyes and points to a bench on the wall. I follow him and take a seat.

“What’s going on? You ran over ten miles,” he says, his eyes assessing my every move. Hank is our captain and the best defenseman in the league. I tip my head back and rest it on the wall behind me. We’re the only two in the team’s gym right now. Which means I’m not getting out of this interrogation.

“I was sore. I came to stretch out my muscles and felt good enough for a long run,” I say and peek at him. The scowl on his face tells me he doesn’t buy it.

“So the accident yesterday didn’t injure you enough to prevent running?”

“You heard about that, huh?” I ask with a half-hearted laugh. Hank is still scowling. I sigh and sit forward, resting my elbows on my thighs and clenching my hands together. “Willa chewed me out for that last night. I know I fucked up. I’m going to do better. I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

I chance a look at him to see surprise briefly flash across his face before he schools his features back into a scowl. “It’s not the first time she hasn’t been happy with you.”

He’s not wrong. Willa has been less than impressed with some of my antics over the years. Hank has even overheard her yelling at me over the phone more than once. But I hear the question he’s asking. What makes this time any different?

“She cried, man. Willa doesn’t cry,” I admit, shame flooding my body. He nods in understanding.

“Any word on that contract?” he asks. I shake my head. My contract expires before the next season starts in two months. Usually they expire at the end of a season, but mine was different. I’m usually contracted for camps or media appearances for the team in the off-season. They hadn’t wanted me for those much in the past few years.

“I’ve been with this team for nine seasons. Are they really going to make me sweat like this?” I ask him. I don’t like the look of pity he gives me.

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