Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Track 6

THE HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS

It’s official. I need to leave town. Or work all weekend. Anything but spend another minute with my best friend’s fake-slash-real girlfriend. I don’t know what Melina is to Cade, but they speak every night, and he’s texted her incessantly all week. Obviously, she’s more than just a hookup to him.

And despite how hard I’ve fought it, she’s more than just a houseguest to me.

I watch her sleeping form, chest aching. Fuck, I’m going to miss this tomorrow.

All week, she’s asked me to lie beside her while she falls asleep. Inevitably, I nod off too, and in the morning, she’s always curled around me.

“Shit, I fell asleep,” I mutter every time, like I didn’t mean to, only to do it again the next night.

It’s sick how addicted I am to having her close. To her smell. To the soft sounds she makes while she sleeps.

I’m fucked.

I want to savor the last few minutes in bed with her, but I’m not doing either of us any favors by not getting up. And I’m definitely not doing right by Cade, so I extricate myself from her hold, gently slipping her soft hands from my chest. But I can’t let go that easy. For a moment, I hold them, study them. Would it be so bad if I just kissed her fingers?

My stomach twists painfully. Yes, Declan. It would be fucking bad. And asking yourself this shows just how totally fucked you are.

Even so, I can’t stop myself. I pull her hand closer and brush my lips over her knuckles. Her eyelids flutter in response, so I release her. The last thing I want is for her to catch me mauling it.

Without another second of hesitation, I jump out of bed and head straight for the kitchen. Coffee. Go make coffee. And breakfast. Give yourself something to focus on. Anything but the beautiful woman lying in the other room who has made it clear that she wants me to kiss her as badly as I want to kiss her.

It’s a craving.

A sick craving.

As if my best friend can sense my fucked-up thoughts, he chooses this moment to text me.

Cade: Headed to practice. Any suggestions on a nice place in Bristol we can take Mel tomorrow night? I’ll make a reservation.

We? Why the fuck would I come with them to dinner?Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

With a grunt, I put the phone on the counter.

A nice restaurant? There are a couple in town, but fancy doesn’t suit Melina. She enjoys burgers at Thames, like me. Or a donut from Jules’ while we sit in the corner so she can watch the people coming and going and make up stories about their lives.

Yesterday she concocted an entire backstory for an older woman who was sitting by herself on the opposite side of the shop. Melina decided that she’d moved here from Ireland as a young girl. That she’d come with absolutely nothing and met the love of her life in Boston. The two of them had worked hard for years, scraping together every penny they could, and eventually bought a little cottage on the water here. The two of them, along with their children, spent their summers here, and once the kids were grown and gone, she and her husband retired and moved to Bristol permanently. She has a whole brood of grandkids who visit, and now even her great grandkids spend their summers on the beach here.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the woman she created this rags-to-middle-class story about was none other than Mrs. Milsom, Jules’s grandmother and the wealthiest woman in town. Her family has owned the majority of this town for generations. There was no trip to Ellis Island or working in a factory in Boston, and there are definitely no great grandkids. Not yet, at least.

The only time the woman smiled that day was when Jules delivered a donut and a cup of tea to her table. She has a soft spot for her granddaughter, even though she’s always been horrible to Jules’s twin sister, Hailey.

Rather than burst Melina’s bubble, I sat and listened, and when we bundled up and headed toward the door, she smiled at the old crone. Thank fuck the woman’s lips lifted a fraction. If they hadn’t, I’d have told her where she could stick her donut.

Cade: Never mind. Daniel gave me the name of a place. I’ll make a reservation for the three of us.

Clenching my fist, I drop my head and give it a shake. No, I’ll work the whole weekend. It’s safer. Smarter.

I’m so in my head that I don’t notice that Melina has appeared until she wraps her arms around my waist and presses her cheek against my back. I’m so taken aback by the move that I don’t pull away.

“You’re up early,” she says with a gentle squeeze.

I shouldn’t wrap my arm behind me and hold her there, but I do. And with one hand on her to hold her steady, I turn and take in the woman who is slowly unraveling me. “Was just texting with Cade.”

She smiles up at me without even an ounce of guilt or apprehension over the way she’s touching me while talking about him. “You were texting with Cade, or Cade was texting you, and you were grunting at your phone?”

I will my face to remain impassive, but her teasing smile and the general joy she finds in my grumpiness make it hard not to smirk. With my hands laced behind her back, I heave out a breath. “He answered his own question before I could come up with a response.”

Snorting, she pulls away. I’m not ready to let her go.

“Because you were really going to reply.”

“I’ve replied to him all week,” I argue, pulling two mugs from the cabinet.

She takes one and fills it, then doctors her coffee so it’s just how she likes it—extra sweet. “What did he have to say this morning?”

“Just mentioned making plans for the weekend with you.”

Smiling, she cups her mug with both hands. “That’s thoughtful. So what are we doing?”

I turn away from her affection, tamping down on the effect her words have on me. “He wants to take you out to dinner. I’ll be working all weekend, so you’ll have the house to yourselves.”

“Declan—” Her voice comes out soft, full of pity.

Irrational anger bubbles under my skin. There’s no need to feel sorry for me. I’ve watched plenty of people fall in love over the years. My sister. The guys at the station. This is nothing different. I knew Cade would eventually meet someone.

Just never thought I’d have feelings for the woman too.

“I have to head to the station,” I say without turning around. “Want me to drop you at Lake’s on my way?”

She doesn’t respond, and the silence bleeds for so long that I don’t have a choice but to turn around and look at her.

She assesses me with those green eyes of hers, then shakes her head. “No. She’s picking me up. We’re getting our nails done.”

I nod. That’s good. Less time alone with Melina is good.

Then why do I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut?