Page 19 of A Play For The Heart
Jack swivels to face me, gets out of his chair, and sweeps me into a hug, catching me off guard. His massive frame wraps around me and I feel…soothed?
The man gives a damn good hug.
After another moment, Jack places me back on the floor. He looks down at me, smiling, while towering over both Maren and me. A fact I think she also just recognized as she drags her eyes up and down his body, a scowl forming as she sips her beer.
“It’s so nice to meet you Sawyer, I’ve heard great things about you.” I shoot a look at Henry, who is inspecting a beer bottle sitting on the bar and is sporting the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks.
I smile back at Jack, then flag down the bartender to order a drink. Ordering a classic vodka cranberry, I take a seat next to Henry at the bar. We spend the next hour chatting. Jack asks Maren and I both about our day and Jack and Henry talk about practice. Jack explains some practice drills he does as an offensive lineman. He loses me after about three words, but Maren nods along. At least one of us understands.
I explain my job and the non-profit, then Jack asks Maren what she does for work. With that question, Jack and Maren get into a heated debate about the ethics of zoos and aquariums, a topic I have no knowledge of but by the looks of it, both Maren and Jack have strong opinions. I turn to Henry, whose back is facing the door, to ask about his week and the away game they had when my jaw drops at the sight in front of the entrance.
Walking through the front door into Longboards is Declan. Holding hands with a tall, platinum-blonde-haired woman.
CHAPTER 10
“You can’t fill the hole inside of you with money, girls and cars”
You should be sad—Halsey
Sawyer
Whatthefuck?
What the hell is Declan doing at Longboards holding hands with a woman? He told me earlier this week he was too busy with football to eat dinner, but now he’s at a bar with someone I don’t know? I wouldlovefor someone to explain how that is. My mouth must be hanging wide open and the look on my face alarming because Henry follows my gaze and glimpses at the sight before us. I watch as he cringes, then turns back at me, eyes wide as saucers and concern lacing his features.
“What is Declan doing here with a woman?”
This is not the time for stupid questions. Based on my unhinged jaw and the angry tears beginning to form, I’m flabbergasted and don’t have the slightest clue. I’m as shocked as everyone else.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
They say there’s nothing scarier than a woman scorned. I never truly understood the phrase, to be honest. Sure, I’ve been hurt by other actions in my life—when friends ditched me for someone better or I was rejected by a boy I had a crush on. But I have never gotten upset or angry or fell into a fit of rage. In those situations, my default emotion was sadness. All the feelings would rush right up to the surface, and I would cry. Once I was done crying, I would pack it up neatly into a box and throw those feelings away because they had no value to me anymore.
At this moment, however, the only emotion surging through my body seeing Declan with another woman is rage. I’m not sad or jealous or hurt. I’m angry. Really fucking angry. All the hurt feelings I had about the fact he hadn’t made the effort to see me once since I moved to Seattle have morphed from hurt into full-on animosity. And that fury is what propels me out of my chair and straight towards Declan.
Before anyone has the opportunity to process what I’m doing or stop me, I’m standing in front of Declan, who has the gall to not even look embarrassed or ashamed. Still standing beside the random woman, Declan looks me up and down. “Hi Sawyer, didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” he drawls.
I exhale so deeply that I probably create a breeze.I’m going to punch him in the face.I’m going to sucker punch him right in his stupid-looking face.I’ve never been a violent person. Hell, I can’t even squash a bug. Maren had to squash a spider for me last week and just thinking about it makes me queasy. But right now, a good punch to his perfect fucking nose would feel like a righteous victory.
I slap on the fakest smile I can muster so that Declan knows I see right through his bullshit. Because that's what this whole situation is. Absolute bullshit.
“Henry invited me out since myboyfriendhas been too busy to bother to see me,” I say, glaring at him, then glancing at the woman on his arm. Her legs go on for miles and miles and she looks chic. Classy. In a way I could never achieve. I mentally slap myself for comparing myself to her and focus on the real issue. My dumb ass, soon-to-be, ex-boyfriend.
The blonde-haired woman interrupts my glaring.
“I’m Hannah, Declan’sfriend. How do you know Declan?”
There is no need to emphasize thefriend, but my gut tells me she’s fishing for information. Women have great intuition and mine is telling me this poor woman has no idea Declan has a girlfriend. Which only fuels my anger.
I glance at her, then resume my glaring and respond, looking straight at Declan. “Declan, would you like to answer that question, or shall I?”
My hands are glued to my hips and my stance exudes disappointment. I may have to physically look up to see him, but mentally I’m looking down on him. Shaming him.
At my thinly veiled threat, Declan finally shifts his feet, clearly becoming uncomfortable.Good. Squirm, you little shit.Declan remains silent—a new skill for him—so I answer instead.
“Declan is, orwas, my boyfriend. The same boyfriend that couldn’t find time to see me, but apparently managed to find the time to go out on dates.”
Hannah, Declan’s poorfriend, looks like she’s seen a ghost. She quickly mumbles an apology at me and insists profusely she had no idea he wasn’t single, then turns and walks out the door. Middle finger raised in the air, directed towards Declan.
