Page 8 of Broken Promises

“I told her what to expect from the start. It’s not my fault she thought she was the one that could lock me down.” Okay, I hear how that sounds, but I’m sticking with it.

“It doesn’t matter. Owners speak to each other. And unfortunately for you, most of them have daughters.”

“Great. You’re making me sound like a predator,” I say, my mood turning angrier by the second. “I still don’t understand what you want me to do. They waited until the last minute to decide. Practice is starting for all teams this week. I missed the mini camps that would’ve been beneficial to getting to know my new team. How the hell do I prove I’m not the irresponsible playboy they think I am by tomorrow?”

“Stay out of the press and maybe get an actual girlfriend. A committed relationship and no bad press could get you signedand playing by mid-season. Unless you want to hear the Texas deal, but you’re right, they suck, and they would pay you less than a rookie.”

Staying out of the press is the easy part. There hasn’t been a single picture or article written about me since I crashed my car. I’ve kept my head down and stayed out of the public eye. There was no way I was going to do something to hurt Willa any more than I already had. Where the hell am I going to find a girlfriend on such short notice? Do I even want a girlfriend? Honestly, with my reputation, I’m not sure just having a girlfriend would be enough for Boston to believe I’ve settled down.

Unless. . .

“I’m engaged!” I blurt. I can’t sit out the beginning of the season. I won’t admit it out loud, but my body can’t take that kind of break and be able to get back to where I need to be in the middle of a season anymore.

Diego’s eyebrows shoot up. “Engaged?” he says, not at all believing me.

“Yes. Engaged, Diego. You know, where I got down on one knee and begged my woman to stay with my dumb ass forever?” I’m covering my idiot-panic with sarcasm.

“This seems unlikely, Declan.”

“When was the last time I was actually photographed with someone?” I ask, knowing it’s been over six months. It might be longer for all I know. I’ve been getting sick of this lifestyle for a while now. Meaningless hookups were great for a long time, but as I get older, they hold less appeal.

Diego studies me, and I know he knows the answer. “You’re going to need to be seen with her. I advise you to push up the wedding as soon as you can. The sooner you’re a boring married man, the quicker and easier we can get you that contract.”

“Uh. I’ll talk to her, but she’s kind of on tour right now, so I don’t know how soon I can push things,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“She’s well known?” Diego asks, suddenly very interested. “That might work in our favor depending on how she’s seen in the media.”

“Squeaky clean,” I say immediately.

“Who is she?”

“I need to talk to her about all this,” I say, rushing to the door. “We’ve kept our relationship quiet, and I’m not going to put the spotlight on it if she doesn’t want to.” Or if I can’t get her to agree to this.Fuck. I’m so stupid.

“Okay, but Declan . . .”

“I know,” I say, rushing from the office.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter to myself as I rush into the bathroom and fumble with the lock on the door.

Willa is going to kill me.

I take a deep breath and make the call.

“Hey hockey boy.”

“Hey, Princess. How’s the tour going?” I ask, mentally trying to figure out how to ask her what I need to.

“It’s on hold. You don’t pay much attention to social media, do you?” she asks with a laugh.

“Not if I can avoid it,” I admit. “What happened with the tour? The last time we talked, you were really excited. I listen to the album all the time. It’s fucking amazing.” And it is. They’re really talented.

Willa catches me up on everything that happened to Harlow, and my jaw is on the floor by the time she’s done.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” I ask, a little more anger behind it than there really should be. But she keeps trying to keep things from me to protect my career. Which is stupid and clearly pointless since I’m doing a great job of ruining it myself.

Willa sighs. “It’s hard. The distance, I mean. There’s been some progress in Ezra’s case. Cal is a dad now. Maverick is either doing well or hitting rock bottom, depending on what news we get that day.” I know what she means about the distance. Not being able to hang out with your best friend when you need to vent or just want to watch a new show together sucks. I’ve only managed to go to a handful of Shattered Halo concerts over the years and wasn’t even able to stay to the end because of early morning practices or needing to catch a flight to the next game. Willa has been to more of my games, but I only got to see her for maybe an hour after before she was back on a tour bus.

“What about you? It’s you I care about. How are you?”

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