Page 47 of The Prince and the Puck
Lizzy stared into my eyes for a long beat, and I could see uncertainty working through her dark gaze. It wouldn’t beappropriate now that I knew she knew who I was. But I didn’t care. "Is that what you really want, Your Highness?"
"For God’s sake, yes."
"OK. Are you ready to go?"
"Would it matter if I said no?"
"Kind of. You’re supposed to come of your own free will. If that wasn’t the case, I would’ve knocked you out and hauled you onto the plane the first day we met."
"Very reassuring."
Lizzy gave me a half-smile and shrugged, and I found myself willing to go. Because she was going with me. That didn’t change the confusion I felt, but at least I wasn’t alone.
As we moved toward the door, my gaze slid frantically around Lizzy’s impersonal apartment. "Isn’t there something you should take? Like… like this candlestick?" I held up a tall brass candlestick that had been sitting on the long table behind the couch.
It was nothing personal—I knew that—but it seemed like in order for Lizzy to have been a real person, a person who I’d become involved with, she needed to have some kind of attachment to this place. Maybe to this candlestick. Hopefully to me.
"The only thing I really need is coming with me," Lizzy said, her eyes softening.
"I hope you don’t mean your gun."
She laced her fingers through mine then, and my erratic heartbeat calmed a little. "Come on, Declan. We need to get to the plane."
Lizzy drove this time.
She spent a whole lot of time looking in the rearview mirror, which made me think we were being followed. She told me it was just standard practice when it was possible we might be followed. I did not want to be followed. I did not want any moremen attacking me in parking lots. Or following me through 7-Eleven. Or blowing up my truck.
And I wondered—if I accepted the rulership of my kingdom, would that sort of thing be my day-to-day? I didn’t remember trucks blowing up being a common part of royal duty, but I’d been pretty young.
We arrived at a private airfield an hour later. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see a jet with my family crest on the fuselage waiting for us.
Lizzy parked on the tarmac, having been waved through the security gates when she showed her ID. It became clear she had called ahead. The guards waved us in, and once my door opened, they were at my side, escorting me to the jet.
I felt like… royalty. And I didn’t like it.
Lizzy took a few more moments to join me, helping the men on the tarmac load my bags into the aircraft. Then she made her way up the stairs, and the door was sealed behind her.
"We’re really doing this, I guess," I said, telling myself more than her. None of it seemed real. I was just a hockey player. I had a game next week.
"Shit," I said. "I need to call Coach."
"There’s Wi-Fi on the plane," Lizzy said. "You can call him now."
"What do I tell him?"
Lizzy thought about that for a moment, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and gazing out the window. "I think you can tell him the truth."
"I doubt he’ll believe me."
"Well, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter."
I stared at her. Of course, it mattered. It was my reputation. My career. Everything. And I was just supposed to walk away,letting Coach believe I’d said I was committed and then simply changed my mind?
I turned away from Lizzy, walked down the aisle, and took the last seat on the left side of the plane. I strapped myself in and pulled my phone from my pocket. I inhaled deeply and called Coach.
"Declan," his gruff voice came through the line immediately. "Is this about your truck exploding? What the hell happened?"
“It’s kind of about that, yeah.” I tried to figure out what I was supposed to tell him. How could I explain any of this?
