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.”