Callous Player: A College Hockey Romance (Westfall U Series): Westfall U Read online

  “I think you had things under control,” Declan says.

  “He was gripping my arm pretty hard,” I admit.

  “Douchebag,” Declan mutters. “If I wouldn’t have stepped in, Hunter here would’ve,” he assures, tilting his chin to the bartender.

  Hunter nods. “You’re not the first girl that guy’s tricked.”

  “Damn.” I slink over the bar. “This night is an epic fail.”

  “Don’t say that,” Declan mutters. He takes a drink of his water. “I wasn’t really ready to sober up yet.”

  “No? Why’s that?” I ask him.

  “Do you have secrets, Poppy? I mean the kind that keep you up at night and eat away at you?” he asks.

  “Not really. I’m pretty much an open book. Got into Westfall on scholarship. Grew up with a single mom. We’re dirt poor. I want to become a journalist and Westfall is my best chance at landing a job with CNN. I like to read books and write. I guess that’s it. There isn’t an interesting bone in my body. Secrets are interesting, hence why I don’t have any,” I say. Gosh, why am I talking so much?

  “You’re beautiful,” Declan says to me with a crooked grin. “And smart too. You don’t need to be wasting your time on an app to find a guy.” He takes a large gulp of his water. He’s still swaying though and he uses the bar for support.

  OMG, he called me beautiful. This guy is gorgeous. He’s a Dragon. He can have any girl on campus and he called me beautiful. Holyfuckingmolly.

  I smooth down my dress, feeling a blush crawl up my cheeks.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” I ask Declan. I don’t know why I want to confess to him but he’s drunk and I’m feeling low and. . .

  Declan nods. “You’re secrets are safe with me.”

  I inhale. “I’ve never kissed a guy and I thought I could find a guy on College Pro and just kiss him because I’m a freshman, and it’s pretty pathetic that I’ve never been kissed.”

  Declan’s lower lip juts out. “So not what I thought you were going to say. I would offer to kiss you, but why the hell would a smart woman like you want a drunk guy’s tongue down her throat?” he asks, but it’s obviously rhetorical. “Anyway. The right guy will come along eventually. You just need to be patient.”

  Those aren’t the words I’m expecting from a hockey player. I know from Ryse that puck bunnies are lined up to get with these guys and that statement was sweet and thoughtful.

  “Can I tell you my secret, Poppy?” he asks, leaning in to me.

  I nod and swallow hard. What I really would like to be doing is kissing him. I wish I had the guts to say that I actually would like his drunk tongue down my throat because he’s hot as hell, and even drunk he’s a gentleman and sweet too. But something is bothering him enough to be sitting here on a Sunday night, drinking himself under the table, so to speak. What he needs is an ear to listen not another girl wanting a piece of him.

  “What’s your secret, Declan?” I ask.

  “I like the way you say my name,” he answers. Then he leans in and whispers his secret in my ear. I listen and it takes longer than I expect it too. His secret is heartbreaking and I want to wrap him up in a hug and hold him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Promise not to tell anyone.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes.

  “You have my word,” I assure him, looking into his gray eyes.

  “If word got out it would mean a lot of trouble for me,” he explains.

  “You can trust me,” I say. “I would never do that to you.”

  “I believe you, Poppy.” He blinks.

  “Thanks, Declan,” I answer, looking into his stormy eyes that feel like they could suck me under.

  The bartender, what was his name?. . . Hunter walks by and I ask for my bill, but Declan throws a twenty on the bar and tells him to keep the change.

  He stands up and nearly falls over. Poor guy. “Let me help you,” I say to him. I place my body under his armpit and hoist him up. He’s a big guy though and he nearly topples us both over.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes.

  “Shit,” Hunter curses and he leaves the bar area and walks over to help me. “Let me help you get him in the Uber.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Hunter tells Declan to call the Uber on his phone. Then Declan looks at me. “You need a ride back to Westfall?”

  “I do,” I say, feeling slightly adventurous. This night hasn’t gone as planned but it hasn’t been a complete bust either.

  I get into the Uber with Declan. We both sit in the back seat, and he chooses to sit all the way on the other side of the seat next to the window. The driver heads back to Westfall and Declan stares sadly out the window.

  “Life isn’t fair,” he mutters.

  “Sometimes it isn’t but other times it totally is,” I answer.

  “Yeah,” he agrees, blowing out a breath.

  We must arrive to his destination because the Uber stops at the hockey house where Ryse lives. Declan is my brother’s housemate. I slide down my seat, just in case Ryse is around.

  “This is me,” Declan says to the driver. Then he adds, “Take her where she needs to go,” and he passes him a bill.

  Declan steps out of the car and I think he’s going to fall over but he somehow braces himself. “Have a good night, Poppy.” He grins and my heart bursts just a little more.

  “You too.” I wave.

  Declan weaves his way up his front lawn to the door and I give the driver the address for my dorm. Wow. What a crazy night. If Ryse knew I was hanging out with one of his teammates he would flip the fuck out. And if Ryse knew I wanted to kiss the hell out of his teammate, he would probably find a way of locking me up in my dorm room. It’s like he hasn’t gotten the memo that I’m all grown up now.

  I head back to my dorm and when Bonnie grills me about my night, I tell her the part about Cage catfishing me but I leave the part about Declan to myself. He unloaded a major secret on me, one I plan to keep. I also told him a secret about me too, but it’s not like I will ever see him again. Even if I do, he probably wouldn’t remember me anyway, he was too wasted.

  TWO

  Declan

  * * *

  Coach runs some intense drills for a Monday morning. If last year taught me anything, then he wants to send us a message that getting drunk on the weekend is a stupid move. His message is well received. My stomach burns and my legs are screaming with pain as I push across the ice to skate at optimum speed. My teammates are at optimum speed. Ryse has passed me by far, which looks pretty bad on me because he’s taken Cole’s spot as the other winger on the team this year. He and I need to be on par with each other so that when the games begin we bring the battle to the ice. After about ten sprints across the ice, Coach divides us into two groups and we work on our stickhandling skills. It seems that my magic green juice hasn’t done the trick this morning in restoring my hungover state. I’d love to say that I don’t drink on my own that often, but the pressure of life has gotten to me. Coach finally dismisses the team and we all head to the locker room. I head straight for the toilet and vomit. Fuck! I can’t keep doing this to myself, yet guilt eats away at me and the only time I don’t feel it is when I’m not sober. I’m not an idiot either. I don’t want to drink this much and I know my drinking is affecting my game. I just feel like I got on to this shitty roller coaster and getting off seems a lot more complicated than I expected.

  After showering and getting dressed for classes, I’m about to head out when Coach Cooper calls me into his office.

  “Have a seat, son,” he says and my stomach dips.

  I place my backpack on the floor beside the chair and fall into it.

  “What’s up, Coach?” I try to keep it cool.

  “Look, kid, your freshman year you were on fire. Sophomore year you started to lag and last year was meh.” He lifts his hand and waves it up and down. “Something’s been eating you. We’ve talked about you maybe getting a therapist.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t need a therapist, Coach. What I need is money,” I say quickly, and then instantly regret it. I suck in my lower lip.

  Coach’s lips turn down. “You in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not like you think.” I sit up straight and wipe my sweaty palms along my jeans.

  Coach tilts his head to the side and watches me like he’s trying to get in my head. No use because this secret I’ve got on lock and key.

  “You don’t know what I’m thinking,” he bites back. Coach is like a father to this team. For some of us without a dad, it means a lot that he cares but he isn’t a hearts and roses kind of guy. He’s a tough love kind of guy that makes NHL players and wins championships. Still his dedication to the guys and team is honorable. He chews on the tip of his pencil. “You got a fund for housing and food as part of your scholarship offer.”

  “I did.” I nod.

  “What is it then?” he asks.

  “Please, Coach.” My tone is pleading. We’ve had this conversation before.

  “Don’t ‘please, Coach’ me anymore, McAvoy. This is your year. You need to play smart. You want to be called up to the big leagues, you need to show them why they need you. No more showing up to practice hungover. You need money, well, skate your fucking ass off and you’ll land yourself a nice NHL contract.”

  “That’s the plan, Coach,” I say and I mean it. I need that contract like my last breath.

  “Don’t pull that shit on me. The season just started and you’re lagging behind the boys. I saw it and they saw it,” he warns, sitting back in his chair behind his desk.

  “I know, Coach. I won’t let it happen again. I need to make the NHL happen. I’ll do whatever it takes,” I assure him.

  “That’s what I like to hear, McAvoy,” he says and his lips tilt up, but I wouldn’t call it a smile. Maybe it’s Coach’s version of a smile though.

  Then he watches me carefully and that makes me nervous.

  “McAvoy, the school paper is writing the Spotlight story on one of the members of the Dragons that will make the NHL this year. It should be you.”

  “Me?” I question. “I’m the least interesting person on the team.”

  “I don’t agree with that. You head on over to their office today, around noon. Tell them I sent you. You’ve been chosen, this is a good thing for your career. Trust me.”

  I want to argue and say this is ridiculous. There isn’t an interesting bone in my body but this is Coach and when he asks you to do something, you don’t say no.

  “Sure thing,” I say.

  “Good. The Spotlight creates a lot of buzz in this school. Let the students get to know you. The scouts always pick up on who’s who. It will help you in the long run,” Coach explains.

  “Thank you. I appreciate you giving me this opportunity.”

  “You’re a good kid, McAvoy. Whatever problem you’re having, I hope you can find a solution.”

  “I hope so too, Coach,” I reply blandly, even though I know it won’t work out until I make it big.

  “Okay, get outta here,” he says and he waves me out the door.

  I pick up my backpack and leave. Coach is right, I’ve spent the last two years fucking up. Now I need to make things right. If I’m going to set my life on the right track, I need to show the scouts I’m worth it. No more booze and no more chicks. Hockey has to be my main focus this year because nothing can stop me from drafting.

  THREE

  Poppy

  “Okay, so you’re taking care of the dos and don’ts of fast food on campus. Our audience is freshman, so it’s perfect for you.” Elijah grins like he’s gifted me a diamond bracelet. As the editor of the school paper, he tells me what my job is. As a freshman, I’m at the bottom of the food chain here at The Westfall Gazette. Yet, I need this position for my résumé.

  “Sure.” I nod to Elijah, who sits at his desk twiddling his thumbs. Damn, he’s pompous.

  “Good. Now get to work, freshman,” he says.

  I force a smile and nod. When I turn away from him, I roll my eyes and realize I’m being watched. Busted! Violet cocks her brow. I duck my head and head to my desk. I’m fully aware that I need to grow a stronger backbone, especially in journalism, where things even at Westfall are cutthroat. Everyone is after Elijah’s job after he graduates this year, including me. I gaze up at Violet. She cocks her brow and tilts her chin up at me. She’s clearly here to make it to the top too.

  I head to my desk and begin to search places to eat on campus. I’ve kind of familiarized myself with some main buildings on campus. Especially the ones I have classes in, but I still seem to be getting lost and end up showing up to my classes late, which is so embarrassing because I become the center of attention when I stumble in late looking for a seat.

  I’m searching Google for fast food at Westfall when I see Declan McAvoy walk through our office door. My heart skips a beat and I accidentally knock my laptop off my desk. It hits the floor and as I reach to pick it up, my glasses slide down my nose.

  What is he doing here? He can’t be here for me, obviously.

  Declan struts in with an air of cool and comfortable. He stops for a moment and looks around. I push my glasses up my nose and try not to look back, but how can I not? He’s gorgeous with wide shoulders and strong biceps. The way his gray waffle shirt hugs his chest is absolutely sinful and his jeans. . .damn, he has one fine ass.

  He clears his throat and walks over to me and I realize I’ve been gawking. He probably wants to make sure I won’t spill his secret now that he’s figured out I work at The Gazette.

  “Excuse me. Coach Cooper sent me here. Someone is writing a story about me. Declan McAvoy. Westfall Dragons,” he says. His deep voice, along with the magnificent scent of his, has me practically salivating over this guy. Don’t even get me started on his gray eyes. Who has gray eyes? I feel like they are so uncommon.

  I have to will myself to speak because the cat has clearly got my tongue. And wait a minute, he never said, “Hi, Poppy, can you help me out?” Which means I don’t think Declan remembers our little meeting last night.

  “I w-wouldn’t know. But Elijah over there is our editor. You can ask him,” I finally say, stumbling over my words. Gosh. Why do I have to be so awkward? Last night was easy-peasy for some reason. Dressed to kill with my hair done up, I was feeling confident. Now I am back to my baggy jeans, a blazer jacket that fits on the large side, a white T-shirt, and glasses. I’m once again hiding behind my larger-sized clothes and eyewear.

  “Cool thanks.” He nods and struts off and I just want to melt on my desk. I practically do, exhaling and trying to get a grip.

  I pretend to get back to searching, but when I look up, Violet is once again staring at me with a bitchy smirk. What is wrong with that girl?

  Declan walks over to Elijah and of course I have to eavesdrop. “Hey, man, Coach Cooper sent me.”

  Elijah sits up straight and squares his shoulders. “Yes, you must be the Westfall Dragons’ latest star.”

  “I guess so,” Declan shrugs.

  “My assistant editor would normally be the one to take on this kind of a story, but she is out with a medical issue,” Elijah explains, and Declan just looks bored with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Elijah then looks over at me and I flinch and then pretend to look at my computer screen, but it’s no use pretending because it was obvious I was listening in on their conversation. Then he looks over at Violet who produces the fakest smile and bats her lashes at him. Elijah pinches his lips and then presses his palms together and twiddles his fingers. “Poppy, come here,” he orders.

  I stumble out of my chair and smooth out my hair, which is still blown out from last night. I push my glasses up my nose for the umpteenth time and then walk over to Elijah’s desk. My hands feel fidgety as I struggle with where to leave them, but I finally settle on keeping my hands at my sides.

  “Yes, Elijah,” I say, keeping my gaze strictly on him. This story could do wonders for me and my position
at the paper. I don’t want to let him know that I may have a mad crush on my subject.

  “Poppy, I would like you to write a story about Mr. McAvoy. He’s on the Westfall Dragons team and he’s up to draft this year,” he explains. Elijah knows my brother is on the team and that I know a damn lot about hockey. I’m guessing it may be why he chose me instead of Violet.

  “Absolutely.” I nod. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

  “This needs to be a meaty article. You need to spend time with Declan. Get to know him,” Elijah says to me. Then he turns to Declan. “You want this piece to be sensational. Poppy will need to follow you around and get the scoop on your life.”

  “Great.” Declan smiles to Elijah but it looks more like he’s grinding his teeth. Then he turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Poppy.”

  Dammit. He really doesn’t remember me. I spent last night awake in bed, thinking about how dreamy he is, and he has no recollection of the fact that he told me what is probably his deepest, darkest secret.

  “Nice to meet you too.” I extend my hand to him and give him a saccharine smile because I’m a little sour about him not remembering me.

  “You’ll need to give Poppy your schedule,” Elijah says to Declan. And then he turns to me. “I want you at his practices, training sessions in the gym, games, and most of all when the team hits the bars after a win.” He winks like he’s got game.

  Holy crap. Ryse is going to freak the fuck out if I have to spend so much time with his team, but he’ll have to swallow his overprotectiveness down because this story could be my big break at the paper, and I’m not letting anyone get in my way.

  “No problem,” Declan says. “Do you want to take my number?” he asks me.

  My cheeks flush as if he just asked me out, which he clearly didn’t. “Of course.” I scramble over to my desk where my cell sits on top. I grab it and walk back over to Declan.

  He gives me his number and I type it on my phone and then I shoot him a text. I just write a simple hi and Declan nods and says, “Got it. So I’ll be in touch.”