Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

After spectacular shower sex and then another loud round before we got dressed, Cade dropped me off at Lake’s house with a promise to call me this week.

I don’t expect him to follow through. This morning was fun—especially the part where I screamed his name so loud when I came that the entire house probably shook, knowing that Declan heard every second of it—but I’m not a fool. Declan’s warning that Cade is a playboy was unnecessary. I knew that about him before we slept together.

I like that about him.

I’m not ready for a real relationship. But to feel wanted in the way Cade is so naturally good at? I couldn’t have asked for more. And I wanted to remember what it felt to want to be touched again.

For so long, the idea of another person’s hands on me made my skin crawl.

Damn Declan for making me feel dirty for enjoying it.

He’s ruining my fun.

“So, Cade Fitzgerald?” Lake asks, her brow raised as she bounces Nash against her chest.

My best friend is never anything short of perfection, so it’s not surprising that she’s taken to motherhood so naturally. Though it’s endearing, how casual and comfortable she looks right now. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she’s wearing one of Ford’s old Led Zeppelin shirts and a pair of oversized black sweats. Ford disappeared when I walked in the door, saying he was going to listen to the tapes his assistant sent over.

The two of them—three now, I guess—have a pretty perfect life. Though the once pristine house is scattered with baby items, the scene before me makes tears prick my lids. Will I ever have this? Do I even want it?

Will anyone ever truly want me?

“It’s nothing.” I wave a dismissive hand, batting away the emotions threatening to surface. “Just got caught by a reporter. It made more sense to say he was my boyfriend than to tell the guy that I was just interested in banging him and my new roommate.”

Lake squeaks, clutching the baby to her chest. “I—did you—” She blinks, speechless.

I laugh. “Don’t act all innocent. You are currently rocking your ex-boyfriend’s brother in your arms.”

Lake covers Nash’s ears. “Don’t say things like that in front of him.” Even as she scolds me, she giggles. “It really is ridiculous when you put it like that.” Chin tucked, she smiles down at the five-month-old who is completely oblivious to the absurd circumstance into which he was born. “And yet, I wouldn’t change a thing.” Her soft smile turns sharp as she looks up at me. “Now tell me about how you ended up with not one, but two men last night.”

With a shake of my head, I drop onto the couch and pull my legs up under me. “I didn’t. Not that I would have minded if it had turned out that way.”

“Mel,” she laughs. “I’ve got to be honest, I can’t imagine Chief Everhart sharing. He seems so broody.”

I sigh, my mood sinking a little. She’s not wrong. “Honestly, you’re probably right.”All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

She settles beside me. “But he’s been kind?”

With a shrug, I swipe at the arm of the couch, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s fine.”

“That isn’t what I asked. You put up with fine for a long time with⁠—”

I hold up my hand. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Lake frowns. “Okay, but please tell me if he reaches out. You can’t hide things like you did before.”

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I duck my head. “I know.”

She brushes a hand down my arm. “I’m serious, Mel.”

What she doesn’t know is that I didn’t hide it from everyone. I told two people. I told my brother, and I told my mother. But Jason is so much more than just my agent. He’s my brother’s best friend. Like a second son to my mom. Though I told them separately, their responses were the same. They told me that I must have misunderstood the situation. That fame had changed me. That I’d become arrogant, behaving like I was too good for everyone.

Telling people only to have them not believe me made it hurt more. And to add to the pain, they almost had me convinced that I was the problem.

And though I know Lake isn’t like them⁠—

“Mel,” she says, softer now, her expression full of sympathy.

Dammit. I can’t stand the pity, especially from my best friend. “Can we watch a movie?” I snag the remote from the coffee table and press the power button. “Or, oh—” I say, my tone a little too chipper, “have you watched Bridgerton? It’s so steamy.”

She’s silent, watching me, worrying her lip, but I ignore the concern. Finally, as I select the first episode of season one, she settles back against the couch, her head falling to my shoulder, offering me the type of comfort that so few people could.

Hours later, we’re still watching, take-out and candy laid out in front of us compliments of Ford, and I feel like I can finally breathe again.

This is why I came here for the holidays. I don’t need the people who raised me. Family doesn’t have to be blood. These days, family is the girl I met at sixteen. The girl who helped pull me out of some of my darkest moments. The woman who sits beside me, eating copious amounts of sugar, just letting me be. Who hasn’t forced me to explain why I won’t go home for the holidays. Who hasn’t asked why I haven’t turned over the first few songs of the album I promised to Hall Records…

Family is the woman who welcomed me into her home with a hug and a smile.

It eases my mind knowing that her husband loves her enough to make sure I have a safe place to stay while also ensuring that she isn’t put at risk. If it were up to Lake, I’d be staying here, but Ford, who’d give her the moon if he could, put his foot down and worked with Beckett Langfield to make arrangements for me to stay with Declan instead.

Because Jason does make me a risk. I hate it, but it’s true. He’s unstable, and once he hears the rumor that I’m dating again, it will likely get worse. The only hope is that my plan will work. He’ll assume I’m in Boston with Cade, and he’ll never think to look for me at Declan’s.

Which is why despite Declan’s poor ass attitude this morning, I’m staying put. I can handle a grumpy roommate, and I can abide by his rules. Or maybe I can ignore my problems and have fun breaking each and every one of those rules.

Ford walks me to Declan’s door, where the man himself greets us. As they shake hands, I have to hold back a giggle. I feel like a teenager whose friend’s dad just returned her home to her own father.

Though I never knew my father, and I was in Nashville and living on my own at sixteen, so maybe I’m way off base.

Even so, I stick with the feeling, and the minute Ford is gone, I find myself acting like a brat.

“There’s a plate in the oven for you if you’re hungry,” Declan says as he ambles inside behind me.

“You didn’t have to wait around for me, you know. I’m not a child.”

Though I’m certainly acting like one.

I wince, prepared for his anger. I’d deserve it. God, Jason was right. I am a spoiled brat, and I do act like I’m too good for everyone.

Declan steps closer, his brows pulled low.

I hold my breath, readying myself for a lecture.

“I didn’t wait around,” he says, his voice quiet, serious. “It’s my night off. If I went into the station, the guys would accuse me of not trusting them and send me right back here anyway.” He grips his neck and meets my gaze.

My heart thumps hard against my breastbone when he’s this close to me, engulfing me in his masculine scent.

His eyes soften a fraction. “Okay, they did tell me that,” he admits, cringing. “And I didn’t make dinner; it’s from the station. Mason made lasagna. It’s his mother’s recipe. So you should eat. It’s good. Really. Okay, you’re making me nervous, so I can’t stop talking. I’ll just be over there—” He points to the living room, where the television is turned down low.

When I don’t reply, because I’m truly thrown off by his gentle demeanor, his nervousness, his shoulders slump, and he walks away.

Dammit.

“Thank you,” I call after him.

Halfway across the living room, he looks over his shoulder, though he keeps his body turned away. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about this morning. My sister tells me I’m shit at communicating, and well…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

I nod, confused but also concerned that if he says anything else so strangely charming, I’ll either burst into tears or throw myself at him. Since I can all but guarantee he wouldn’t know how to handle either situation, I force myself to head to the oven and pull out the dinner he brought home for me. I’m full from all the junk Lake and I indulged in, but it seems important to accept this olive branch.

I return to the living room, plate in hand, and when Declan looks up, I pull up short. Shit. This was a bad idea. “Sorry,” I say, taking a step back. “Cade mentioned you don’t like messes. You probably don’t eat in here.”

“Was just surprised you were joining me. Figured you’d hide in the kitchen.” The smirk he gives me is so shocking, I almost drop my plate. Didn’t know the man had it in him. “Feel free to sit.”

I settle on the opposite end of the couch, keeping my plate balanced on my lap rather than setting it on the coffee table. The piece is beautiful, and I’d hate to damage it. It looks like the interior of a tree trunk, with swirls and natural designs in the grain. I could study it for hours if I had the time. So that’s where I focus, too intimidated by the stoic man beside me to meet his gaze again.

The Bolts game is playing on the TV, and the commentators are talking about how Aiden Langfield’s game has turned around since he shared his struggle with depression. I find myself leaning forward, lips pressed together and holding my breath. I’d have never thought the man who sat at the bar with us last night suffered from depression. Then again, I’ve become a pro at putting on a mask in order to hide parts of me I don’t want the world to see. Who’s to say others don’t do the same?

Though it sounds like Aiden Langfield went the opposite direction and shared his secrets.

I fight back a shudder at the idea. I can’t imagine really opening up to the people I’m closest to, let alone the world.

“It’s good, right?”

I glance at the fork I’ve just pulled from my mouth and realize I haven’t tasted a single bite I’ve eaten. “Um, yeah,” I stammer. “Delicious. Thank you.”

With a nod, he returns his focus to the game.

Between plays, the camera pans to the sidelines, where Cade stands proudly in a suit.

I practically swallow my tongue at the sight. It’s like his clothing is molded to his body, stretching to accommodate the broad shoulders and the muscles I was licking just this morning. “Holy shit, does that man clean up.”

Declan snorts, then quickly covers his mouth like he didn’t mean to be caught laughing. Clearly, he doesn’t realize he’s already smiled at me a handful of times since I walked through the door.

Maybe, since he’s not working, he had a few drinks to loosen up. With the way the tension is filling this room I could really use something to take the edge off. Especially when Cade appears on the screen again. When Gavin leans in and speaks to him, and he laughs in response, then looks back toward the ice, in the direction of the camera, it feels as if he’s looking right at us. His blue eyes heat, clearly over a play, which is where the camera pans to catch the action, breaking the spell. The puck is about to drop, but the guys on either side of center ice are chirping at one another. Then, before the ref can even move out of the way, they’re lunging at each other.

“What do you think he said?” I turn to Declan, studying his expression.

Once again, his lip twitches like he’s trying to keep from smiling. “It’s not a high school locker room, I don’t have the gossip.”

I grin, my heart rate picking up at the tease. “I bet that tall guy said something about the other dude’s girlfriend—” I suck in a breath, grinning, and practically drop my plate in my lap, my hands flapping. “Or maybe he slept with his mom?”

Declan levels me with another one of his stares.

My mood deflates, and I give him a sheepish shrug. “Or maybe he just told him he sucked. But I like my story better.”

“It’s some story,” he mutters, turning back to the TV.

Both guys are heading for the penalty boxes now, while the rest of the players line up for the puck drop.

“That’s what I’d do on Sundays while sitting through church, then afterward, when we’d inevitably end up at one of the parishioners’ houses for what felt like an eternity.”

“Watch hockey?” Declan asks without taking his eyes off the game.

“No,” I say. “Make up stories about people. What was going on with the family three rows up. Why the father was there one week and gone the next.” I stab another piece of lasagna. “Maybe he got a new job that kept him from coming to church. That kind of thing. Sometimes, my mom would catch me zoning out, and I’d tell her my stories. She’d reprimand me. Tell me to stop gossiping. Really, though, I was just passing the time.”

“What happened to the father?”

Declan’s attention is like a caress, urging me to turn his way. When I do, my stomach flips. A girl could get lost in those dark eyes of his. The depth of his stare. The knowledge he holds. Like he knows what I’ll say before I say it. Like he knows what’s on my mind, even as I’m doing my best to hide my thoughts. “He showed up three months later with a new family.” I swallow and force a smile.

Declan’s mouth drops open, and his eyes go wide.

Why the hell did I tell him that? If I’m not careful, I’ll be like Aiden and spill all my secrets.

“I’m going to put this away,” I say, lifting the plate. “Then get changed. Need anything?”

“No. I’m fine.”

The commentator’s voice gets louder, and he’s speaking quickly now, going on about how Tyler Warren is on a breakaway. Declan’s focus turns back to the television, and a moment later, the Bolts score. Once again, the camera pans from the ice to the sidelines, where the team is celebrating. I smile at the sight of Cade, and though I try to fight the urge, I peer over at Declan. He shifts on the couch, his focus completely on the screen, like he’s just as entranced by Cade as I am.

Hmm, interesting.

Hours later, when the game is over, the Bolts having secured a win, I send a congratulatory text to Cade. When my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call from him, I can’t help the squeal that escapes my lips.

Declan has just disappeared down the hall, likely holing up for the night. I can’t imagine he’ll come back out here for more awkward non-conversation with me, now that the game is over. As it was, we watched in silence—me keeping all my stories to myself—and afterward, he busied himself starting a fire in the hearth while we watched the after-game commentary, which was just more of the same thing, but with a bunch of men talking about how the guys on the ice could have done things differently.

God, I can’t imagine what it would be like to finish a show, only to have a group of people sit around and critique my every move on live television. Though I guess there are plenty of people on social media who do exactly that.

Fortunately, I avoid that like the plague.

“Hey, you,” I say when Cade’s face appears on my screen.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he says in a flirtatious tone. There’s chatter and low music in the background. He’s probably out with the team, though he’s holding the phone really close, probably so he can hear, so I can’t make out his surroundings.

“That was a great game, Coach.”

He licks his lips and smiles again. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

I laugh, my heart pinching. “Is that why you called? You missed me?”

His wide smile slips into something smaller, more intimate, and his eyes soften. “Yeah, I think I did.”

For a long moment, we watch each other silently. What the hell is happening right now?

“That Cade?”

Declan’s voice has me jumping so abruptly, I bobble the phone. “Yeah, you want to say hi?”

Cade chuckles, his image going blurry. “Yeah, right. The guy doesn’t do phones.”

With a shrug, Declan settles on the couch again.

I swallow back a flutter of nerves at his presence. I truly didn’t get the impression that he had any intention of coming back out. As he sits back with a sigh, I can’t help but take him in. The T-shirt he’s changed into—emblazoned with a Bristol Fire Department logo, like most everything he wears—pulls tight across his broad chest. The mesh material of his gym shorts does the same over his thick thighs. As he puts his feet up on the coffee table, crossing one ankle over the other, I force myself to focus on Cade again rather than continue to study him.

“I wanted to introduce you to my friend Leo. Leo, this is my girlfriend, Mel.” He taps his phone screen, flipping the camera.

The guy behind the bar gives me a shy wave, then he throws a towel over his shoulder and shakes his head at Cade.

“Isn’t that the guy you told me gives great head?” I whisper.

Cade is an open book, and I didn’t bat an eye when he told me about his casual hookups with the bartender at his regular hang out.

Cade throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Shh, his ego doesn’t need any more stroking.”

Declan is watching me. I can feel the attention, the anger, radiating off him. I ignore it as Cade continues talking.

“Trying to sell this relationship, Mel,” Cade teases. “Keep it down over there.”

Zaps of excitement course through me as he grins. He’s at a bar, hanging out near a guy he could easily take home, yet he’s calling me. What game is he playing?

I bite my lip. “It’s fine. Maybe we’re not monogamous. Who gets to say what we’re good with?”

Cade’s eyes flash with an emotion I can’t name. “I kinda liked thinking that you’d be a little jealous.”

“Oh, you find jealousy hot.” I can’t help but snort. If he’s looking for a jealous partner, then he’s looking in the wrong direction. The guy on the other end of the couch, though, has it in spades.

“Maybe,” he admits.

“Then consider me very jealous.” I let a sly smile tip up one side of my lips. “When will I see you again?”

He goes quiet for a long moment, and a wave of dread washes through me. I’ve overstepped. Obviously this is all just a joke. He doesn’t really miss me. Maybe he started this banter in order to sell the relationship. Or maybe the bartender was getting too clingy, and he’s using me as an out for the night.

“We’re headed to Philly tomorrow, but we have a home game on Friday. Think you’d want to come up to watch, then stay at my place for the night?”

Lips pressed together, I side-eye my warden in the corner. “Sure.”

In a heartbeat, Declan is out of his seat and leaning over the couch, staring Cade down from over my shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Anger floods me. How dare this man think he can call the shots for me? “Good thing it’s not your call, then, huh?” I look back at Cade. “I’m going to get some rest. Just text me the info, and I’ll make it work.”

Cade nods, though his lips are twisted into an uncomfortable wince.

I force a smile. “Have a good night.”

“Night, Trouble,” he murmurs.

I don’t bother saying good night to Declan.