24. Declan

We are meetingTeagan in the private dining room of the steakhouse in Devil's Den. It's me and Sophie at a large table, dark wood decorated with a large floral arrangement at the center and elaborately folded cloth napkins. Are those…wolves? And a unicorn? Bloody hell. I've never noticed this before. Next team dinner I'm taking notes to see if they do antlers for Stone's moose.

I took Carter back home and packed a bag. If Miranda is staying here tonight, I am too, even if we aren't sharing a room.

"Where's Miranda?" I ask.

"She's not coming down for dinner," Sophie says. "I spoke with Doreen and Miranda wanted to stay in their room and get room service. She doesn't want to see you, Declan."

I know that's not true. Miranda loves me. As I love her. I turn to exit the steakhouse.

"I gotta speak with her. I'm going to get her."

My parents have walked up with Teagan in time to hear me. Dad puts a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

"Declan, calm down. Have dinner and we can talk things over. It may be for the best to leave things be for tonight. You will see her at the rink tomorrow and can talk then."

Shaking my head, I try to shrug off his hand, but he doesn't remove it. Instead, he uses it to guide me to a chair like I'm still a boy and not a grown man almost seven feet tall. I reluctantly sit as everyone else takes their places around the table.

I look at my mother. "Something is wrong. She loves me. Why doesn't she want to see me? This morning we were blissed out and talking about getting married. About our future. Now she won't talk to me at all." I shoot a glare at Sophie. "If she didn't have all of this sprung on her, we would still be okay."

Sophie glares daggers right back at me. "Oh no, this isn't my fault. You're the one who fell into bed with her without talking about important things like the fact you're a fricking unicorn. And how has the fact she's a witch never come up through the years? It's always poor, poor Miranda. You know I love her like a sister and consider her one of my best friends, but it's always a crisis with her."

"Are you on drugs? Seriously? Why are you being such a bitch?" I can't believe she can say she loves her like a sister in one breath and be vicious in the next. This isn't like my sister. She's outspoken and spunky but she's loyal.

She lays a gentle hand on my forearm. "I know you love her, Declan. You're a kind man with a loving heart, but she's going to break it." She looks at our parents. "You know it as well as I do. Tell him. Don't make me look like the bitch here."

"Sophie, Declan, language," Mother chastises. "I love Miranda like she's one of my own. Always have. I believe you are fated for each other, but fate isn't always kind. I understand she's had a shock and I hope tomorrow she is back to the woman you love. But Declan, you have to accept your love may not be returned."

"She loves me." I pound my fist on the table, making the silverware rattle. I rarely display fits of temper. Everyone describes me as a quiet and even-tempered man. But this isn't an ordinary situation. My future—my heart—is at risk.

Teagan clears her throat. "Let's have dinner and discuss how we can help Miranda learn what she needs to if she embraces her witch powers. We can also guide her if she chooses to renounce her gift. It is rare, but there have been those who chose to deny their birthright. If it is her choice, we will help her. No matter what, she is part of my family now. Both the Devil Birds and also the Sisterhood of Witches."

We eat dinner. I'm sure it's delicious, but it all tastes like ash to me. As soon as we are done, I race from the dining room and upstairs to Miranda's room. I knock on the door. Okay, maybe I pound on it. I'm showing restraint because I could easily break it down. I'm about to knock again, harder, when Doreen opens it.

She's smiling, but it's all teeth. Like a rabid honey badger. "Good evening, Declan."

"I need to speak with Miranda." It's rude not to return her greeting, but I'm a desperate man.

"I believe she's gone to bed. You can speak with her in the morning."

"Miranda," I call out as my family and Teagan approach.

"For god's sakes, Declan," Sophie says. "What is wrong with you? You're in a hotel—you can't be bellowing like you're calling sheep back to the barn."

"Declan," Teagan says. "Is there a problem here?"

"Yes, there's a problem here. She won't let me see Miranda."

"Doreen?" Mother asks.

"Nora, Miranda has had a very trying day. She's exhausted, and she's gone to bed. Please tell your son"—Doreen looks at me like I'm vermin—"to please leave us alone."

"Declan?" Miranda walks into the room behind her mother. She is in pajamas and looks sleep rumpled and adorable.

"Miranda. Darling. We need to talk. Please." I try to enter the suite. But Doreen blocks my way. I'm ready to push past her, but my father grabs my arm.

"Steady on, son," he says.

Miranda pushes her hair out of her eyes and shakes her head. "We have nothing to talk about, Declan. Leave me alone." She turns and goes back to her room, closing the door and breaking my heart.

"You heard her. Declan." Doreen gives me a steely eyed gaze. "I'm sure you're disappointed your affections aren't returned. But please respect my daughter's wishes. If you continue to harass her?—"

"Harass her?" my mother exclaims in disbelief. "Trying to get an explanation and talk to his girlfriend is not harassment."

"Nora, you've been my best friend since we were girls, and I love you like a sister. I've known Declan his whole life and I know he is a good man. But I must respect Miranda's feelings even if I don't agree with her. I'm sorry." She turns to me. "Declan, I don't want to have to call the authorities on you, but I will if it's what's necessary to protect my daughter. Please don't make this difficult. Good night."

"Protect her? From me? Don't be ridiculous," I shout as she closes the door. The sound of the dead bolt engaging is the last straw. I can't believe she doesn't want to see me. How has everything perfect gone horribly wrong in a day? I spin away from the door and punch the wall in frustration. I hear the bones crack before the pain registers. "Fuck," I moan as I cradle my hand to my chest. I didn't even put a dent in the wall, but I've broken my hand. This is the worst day of my life.

* * *

The team has a top-notch orthopedic surgeon on staff who x-rays my hand quickly and confirms the break. They call it a "boxer's fracture," but Coach calls it a "fucking dumbass fracture." He's right. I should have controlled my emotions better. I'm not a violent man, but I was seeing red.

I'm on the bench watching practice. With my right hand in a splint for the next two to three weeks, there's no practicing with the team and no playing in the PHL All-Star game in Florida. I am a dumbass. It was such an honor to be picked, and I let my temper and frustration get the best of me and ruin it all. If my team won there would be prize money, significant prize money, that would make my ability to get a farm much easier. And I threw it all away because I lost control. I let my feelings for Miranda distract me from hockey. I want her to be my future, but I can't lose sight of everything else because she's here.

Nate Crosby is in my spot and he's doing well but he's a different type of player than I am. He's a wombat shifter and smaller than I am. Everyone is smaller than I am, but he is one of the smaller guys on the team. Still a big guy, he's over six feet tall, but small for a team loaded with wolf, bear, and other large animal shifters. He's a faster, more agile skater than I am which throws the timing of passes off. His stick isn't as long as mine and he can't snag pucks sliding past on the ice to rescue the play like I'd be able to. Carter is getting frustrated Crosby isn't where he expects him to be. Carter has a hard time adapting sometimes when he's stressed. They'll work it out.

Coach blows the whistle for lines to change. Carter and Crosby skate over to get water. I put their bottles on the board to make them easier to grab. At least I can do something useful.

"We gotta work on our timing," Crosby says. He's serious where Carter is more of a goof.

Carter growls. "Ya think?"

"You'll get it," I say, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"I know we'll get it. Sucks we have to." With that scathing remark, Carter skates away. I know I screwed our team by losing my temper. They have every right to be pissed at me.

"Hope you heal quickly, Mac, this isn't how I wanted to move up to the first line," Crosby says as he leans over the board to put his water bottle back on the shelf. He gives the board a stick tap in farewell and goes toward the far goal to practice tip in shots with our second goalie.

"Are you happy now? You broke his heart and hand," Sophie shouts from up in the stands.

What the hell? I turn around to see what she's going on about and see Miranda and Doreen climbing the steps to take them to where my family and Daphne are sitting.

My breath catches when I see Miranda. She's beautiful, but she looks exhausted and fragile. A shell of the lovely, vibrant woman from last week. Hell, from the day before yesterday. Is she ill? Her normally cream and roses complexion in her cheeks looks sallow, her eyes are flat like gravel from the barn's driveway, not serene. It looks like she's lost five pounds she had no business losing in a day. While part of me wants her to be heartbroken like I am, I don't ever want my Daisy to suffer. I want her to be happy and healthy. I love her, even if she doesn't love me.

"What?" Miranda asks, turning to scan the ice. I'm easy to pick out since I'm the tallest. When she doesn't see me, she looks at the bench and sees me sitting there. I wave my splinted hand and curse myself when I see her go pale and sway slightly as if she's going to faint, but she doesn't. She edges around her mother and comes down to the spot behind the bench where there's a small gap in the protective glass.

Her eyes are shiny with tears as she reaches out for my hand.

"Declan." She runs her fingers over my splint with the hand not holding mine. "What happened?"

"You happened, Miranda," Sophie spits. "You always fucking happen."

Miranda's eyes widen, and a flush replaces the sallowness as she releases my hand and turns to face Sophie. "Excuse me?"

She doesn't say it politely. More in a "What the fuck did you say to me?" tone I never expected to hear come from my sweet Miranda.

"You heard me," Sophie takes the last step down, losing the slight height advantage she had to stand toe-to-toe with Miranda.

"The entire team heard you, you banshee, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Miranda's accent is no gentle Irish lilt. It is a full-blown brogue.

"You sleep with Declan, freak out because you're a witch, and dump him. You refuse to speak to him. He punches the wall and breaks his hand. It's all your fault." Sophie jabs Miranda in the breastbone and, with her wolf shifter strength, pushes her back.

I surge to my feet, wanting to catch Miranda in my arms, hold her, shelter her from pain, but a wall of plexiglass separates us. "I'm the idiot who punched the wall. That's not Miranda's fault."

Miranda turns to me. "Why?"

I want to tell her because she broke my heart, and I was frustrated. Sophie isn't wrong in her facts, but she's got it all wrong somehow.

"Because you're a heartless bitch," Sophie screams.

"That's enough," Coach bellows. Carter is in the tunnel next to where the girls are, and he's not separated from them by plexiglass like I am. He reaches out an arm and hooks Miranda around the waist and pulls her over the wall. She yelps in surprise.

Coach comes up behind them. "Miranda, go back to your office, please."

Tears spill down her cheeks, and she looks stricken. With a tight nod, she takes off down the tunnel, Carter following her. I reach, with my broken hand, to open the gate to follow too.

Coach stops me. "Sit your ass down, Mac. Miss Mackenzie, you are a guest at this practice. If you can't control yourself, you will need to leave. We don't allow fighting on the ice or in the stands."

He turns toward the ice. "Bedard, run drills with the coaches."

To me, he says, "Stay here while I handle this." He points a finger at Sophie. "Simmer down."

He's lucky Sophie isn't more in touch with her witchy side because he'd have turned into a toad in that moment if she could have managed it. Instead, he walks down the tunnel toward the locker room and his office while typing on his phone.

I look up at the stands where Ma, Doreen, and Daphne are sitting. Daphne is rubbing her belly and looking at her phone. Coach is probably texting her about this shit show. Doreen is looking down at me with a hint of a smirk on her ruby red lips. She's a beautiful woman. My teammates have been checking her out even though she's old enough to be their mother. She does nothing but repulse me. She's like a beautiful red apple full of worms. You don't know it's rotten until you bite into it, but then it's too late. Miranda will always be lovelier than her. It hits me in a flash. She is jealous of Miranda. Her own daughter. She's like the evil queen in an animated film. She has to be the fairest of them all.

When I look at it through that lens, everything makes sense. I'm living a fucked-up version of Snow White and my friends are a bunch of hockey-playing dwarves. I start to rise from the bench, but something compels me to look back at my mother. She gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head and the words, "Trust me," echo in my brain. I turn back toward the ice and nod. To anyone else, it will look like I'm reacting to something on the ice, but I know Ma knows the nod is for her.

Doreen watches practice for a few minutes but soon leaves. Carter comes back on the ice and comes to the bench to grab water.

"This is a clusterfuck, man," he says. "Something's not right."

"Carter, are you joining us today?" Coach asks.

He rolls his eyes and skates away. He's right. Something is terribly wrong, and it's not limited to timing passes. But the fact he sees it too doesn't make me feel any better. Practice continues, and Ma comes down to talk to me before leaving.

"Declan, I know things look bleak now, but we will figure out what is going on."

I look over Ma's shoulder to where Sophie is talking with Daphne. She seems calmer.

"Sophie is being weird, too," I say. "There's something going on with both of them. They'd have spats now and then as girls, but Sophie has a vicious edge to her I've never seen before."

"We will sort this out, but you need to control yourself. Trust me. Pushing Miranda isn't going to do any good."

I give a tight nod and try to swallow the lump in my throat. I have never felt more helpless in my life. How many times must have Miranda felt like this? Every time she had to switch schools and try to make new friends and adapt. I want her to have security, I want to give her roots. But I can't tie her down. She has to choose. Please let her choose to stay with me.

Ma leaves, and Coach joins me on the bench. We watch the plays unfold on the ice for a few minutes before Coach speaks.

"Mac, we can't have scenes like this happening. We can't have you losing control and doing dumbass stuff like punching walls and trying to push your way into hotel rooms. I know you have feelings for Randi?—"

"I love her."

"Okay, you love her. But we can't have this kind of drama. It's disruptive to the team. If you two can't get your shit together, Randi is going to have to go. She's become my friend over the years from hanging around Kennie, but the team has to come first. They're my responsibility."

My heart sinks. I can't be the reason Miranda loses this.

"No, you can't do that," I say. "If we can't work it out then trade me. Or I'll quit and forfeit my salary. She loves working for the team. She loves hockey. Do you know she was a two-time state champion?"

"She was?" he asks. "I didn't know she played."

"She did, right wing. She was wonderful. Her dream is to get a front office job with a major sports franchise, and she hopes it's here with the Devil Birds. I'm not going to be the reason she doesn't get the chance."

"Well, then, make sure you get it straightened out. I don't want to lose either one of you."

"Please make sure Miranda knows her job isn't at risk. Even if we aren't together, she doesn't

have to leave. Don't tell her I volunteered to go, though, tell her you'd choose her to stay. That matters to her."

Coach looks at me, not saying a word. It's uncomfortable. Finally, he nods.

"Okay. But I pray you two work out whatever craziness is happening and are happy. You two are a good match for each other. This past week was the happiest I've ever seen Randi. You bring out a side of her she hasn't shown before."

Hopefully both of our prayers are answered.