Page 45 of Cross Check Hearts

But it won’t.

“I know. I just don’t want to let them down or see them hurt,” I mutter, and change the subject quickly. “But there you go, there’s your truth. Now it’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Declan answers without hesitation, and I’m grateful that he’s not trying to linger on what I just shared.

“Okay. I just shared some of my baggage with you, so I think it’s only fair you return the favor. What’s something true about you I don’t know but should?”

Declan takes a drink and turns the glass in his hand several times before he answers. “I’m dyslexic,” he says matter-of-factly.

My brows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yup, really.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have known.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, lifting one shoulder. “You asked for baggage. There it is.”

“I’m sorry,” I rush, feeling totally insensitive for even asking him that. “We don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.” But Declan’s hand flies back out to rest on my wrist, stopping me.

“Honestly, there isn’t much I feel like I can’t share with you.” His words wrap around my heart like a caress. My hands fidget until Declan puts his on mine and squeezes my fingers. “Besides, you just shared something super personal with me, so it’s only fair, like you said.”

Several questions buzz in my head, but I don’t know how to ask them in a way that isn’t problematic. And I don’t want to make him feel like he’s under a microscope either, so I’m not sure what to do until he starts laughing at me.

“There you go again, all in your head.”

“Am I really that obvious?” I ask with a self-conscious smile, and Declan nods hard.

“Sorry to break it to you, but yeah, you are. And since I already know you’re wondering, I got diagnosed as a kid. It was rough at first, but once I learned some tools to help me, it got a lot easier. It still trips me up every now and then though.”

“It must have been so hard to have to deal with that as a kid. I know how awful kids can be to each other.”

Declan continues caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. “Yeah, I wasn’t any exception to that. They were ruthless. And my dad wasn’t much better about it.”

“Are you serious? Your own dad bullied you for that?”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly the best guy in the world. My mom and I struggled for a while financially after he left, but we still weren’t all that upset to see him go, even when the health problems she was having turned out to be Parkinson’s.”

I sit staring at him, speechless, as I try to absorb what he just shared. What do I even say to something like that? But what’s really catching me off guard is how he seems to be handling it. I’m sure it must still bother him at some level, but he’s talking about it with me like it’s ancient history.

“Is your mom still in Canada?”

Declan shakes his head. “No, she’s in San Diego. But don’t worry, she’s okay. I made sure she had everything she needed and more before I moved to Denver. We talk regularly, and if she ever needs anything, she can call me anytime. I’d move heaven and earth for her, she knows that.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking and difficult it had to have been for him to say goodbye to her, to move so far away. I was aware of how little I actually knew about Declan before, but learning all of this now makes me see him in a completely different light—and that makes me wince because I realize I’m doing the exact same thing to him that I didn’t want him doing to me.

“I can’t believe you came here to play for the Aces even with all of that going on. You’re way stronger than I am. I could never have done that if it was my parents. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

He smiles and gently strokes my hands with his. “Thanks, but you’ve been through a lot too. And I think you’re way stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words steal the breath from my lungs, and when his hands move from mine to my wrists, the veins inside them feel like they’re igniting from the inside out. It makes it hard to focus on the conversation, and even harder to form coherent sentences.

“You’re something else, you know that?” I whisper, and Declan chuckles, still with his thumbs tracing the veins showing through the pale skin on the underside of my wrist.

“That’s high praise coming from you. But what do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… you went through all of this shit, but instead of hardening you, it’s like it somehow made you more of a sunny person. I don’t know how you do it.”

He shrugs, grinning at me. “Life definitely dealt me a shitty hand a few times. I won’t deny that. But I never saw the point of getting bitter or angry about it. What good would it do me? None.”

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