Theo’s in position to the right of the goal, unguarded and pacing impatiently while he waits for someone to give him an opportunity. A fight breaks out between Noah and his counterpart, and in the scuffle of flying gloves and helmets, Declan seizes the puck and sends it across the ice right to Theo, who’s already winding up for the shot before the puck even reaches him.

The puck swishes into the net just as the horn signals the end of the game, and the stands erupt. My mother and I both jump from our seats, shouting and spraying popcorn all over us both. When I glance back at the ice where the Aces have piled around Declan to pound on his helmet in celebration, his eyes dart to mine—so quickly that no one else would ever notice or think anything of it.

But I do.

And even as I celebrate with everyone else, I can’t help but feel like that look held a message meant only for me. The goal Declan assisted with wasn’t just for the team.

It was for me, just like he promised.

7. Declan

Chapter 7

Declan

My bike rumbles beneath me, making me feel alive in only the way it can as I speed through Denver heading to the arena for practice. But it’s nothing compared to the high I’m still riding after the killer play I made at the very end of our last game—and the look I saw on Hannah’s face out in the stands after. I might not have netted the goal myself, but I told her I’d score one for her, and I kept my word.

Since it’s just a practice session, I’m sure she won’t be here, but part of me is hoping she’ll show up to the arena today so I can remind her of it. The thought brings a smile to my face as I pull into the parking lot and coast into one of the spots reserved for players and staff. But as I shove the kickstand down with my boot, my phone starts ringing in my pocket—and a chiming ringtone that I only use for my mom carries across the empty parking lot.

Shit. I hope she’s okay.

Leaving her back in San Diego was easily the hardest part about making the decision to play for the Aces. I worry about her and her Parkinson’s all the time, but even more so now that I don’t live less than half an hour away from her. If something goes wrong, I can’t just drop everything and be at her side in a flash.

It’s the constant tug of war I’ve lived with for years—chasing my dreams while taking care of the one person who sacrificed everything for me. The distance between us now only makes that tension sharper.