Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Cade: Mel says you have to work all weekend?

Cade: You don’t have to disappear because of me. It’s your house.

Cade: It’s fucking annoying how you never reply.

Cade: Mel is coming to the station. She’s going to ask you to go to dinner with her, and you’re going to say yes. Be a dick to me, I don’t care, but if you’re a dick to her, we’re going to have a problem.

With a groan, I pocket my phone and pop open the compartments on this side of the rig. We spent the afternoon dealing with a fire in another abandoned warehouse. We couldn’t get close enough to put it out, so though it was controlled, it took all fucking day. The rig is a mess, and we’re all worn the fuck out.

Every fire wears on a department, but here in Bristol, most of us suffer from some degree of PTSD after losing Chief Reilly, which makes it more of a challenge, naturally. Out of all of us, I’m probably the one who was hit the hardest by his death. Not only was he one of my best friends, but he was also my mentor. And to a lot of these guys, he was family.

All I want to do is sit next to Melina and listen to her chatter on about her day or tell me made-up stories about strangers. I want the soft cadence of her voice in my ear, her warm body pressed against mine, her smiles and laughter. Fuck, I just want her.

But I can’t have her, and Cade needs to stop pushing her in my direction.

“Chief, we got this. Go home and rest,” Shawn says.

I shake my head. “Dane should go home to the twins. I can help.”

“The twins are with their mom this week,” Dane says from the open roll-up door of the bay. “Besides, looks like you’ve got company.” He thumbs over his shoulder.

Chest tightening, I step closer and peer up at the second floor. Sure enough, Melina is pacing along the floor-to-ceiling windows outside my office.

“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Shawn gives me a concerned frown. “What’s going on?”

I keep my shit to myself, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t open up to the guys who work for me. I’m the one they come to when they need help. Though I normally tell them to get out of my office and take their girl talk elsewhere. But fuck, they’re all good with the feelings and shit. Between their book club and all their talk about relationships while we eat dinner, they’re practically experts. And I listen. It’s virtually impossible to tune them out when Colby is as loud as he is. At least Mason is usually around to tell him to shut the hell up when my head starts pounding.

“Cade is coming for the weekend.”

Shawn presses his lips together and nods, like he gets the issue.

With a long breath out, I lean against the building.

The whole crew is standing around, watching me.

Crossing my arms, I give them the glare they’ve probably come to expect. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Dane laughs and pulls on Colby’s shoulder. “Help me grab the hose.”

Mason’s already disappeared. He never sticks around to gab. Now it’s just Shawn and me.

I can’t help but peer up at her again. She’s stopped pacing. Now she’s standing at the glass, watching me. When our eyes meet, the words tumble from my mouth. “She’s his. I know that. But I can’t help but feel like she should be mine.”

Her brows furrow in concentration, like she’s trying to read my lips.

“What about Cade?” Shawn asks, drawing my focus.

“What about him?”

He pins me with a knowing look.

I glare right back at him.

“Did you read this week’s book?”

Fucking A. I’m trying to open up to the guy about my feelings, and he wants to talk about his romance book club? “Forget it,” I say, striding toward the stairway.

“Ask Mel about it,” he calls as I take the first step. “And Chief⁠—”

I pause with my other foot on the second step, but I don’t turn around.

“Talk to Cade.”

Closing my eyes, I curse silently. The last thing I need is to open up to Cade about how I feel. About her. About him. Especially when the emotions are so convoluted. They’re twisted and tangled.

All I know is that I can’t get the two of them out of my head, and I’m jealous that their connection is so easy. That they can just fuck and not overthink it. Like it means nothing. If I touched either of them, it would mean everything.

Stopping outside my office, I steel my spine and fill my lungs, preparing to turn her down gently but firmly. I’ll say I still have work to do. It’s not a lie. There’s always more to do around here. After she leaves, I’ll breathe easier knowing I didn’t make a move on my friend’s girl.

With that resolution firmly in mind, I push the door open.

“Declan?” Melina all but gasps, like she’s surprised to see me in my own office.

With a curt nod, I head to the locker in the corner where I keep a change of clothes. “Everything okay?”

I glance over my shoulder as I slide my suspenders down.

She nods, her focus lowered to the floor, so I pull my shirt off and quickly replace it with a clean one. I still need to shower, but I need her out of my space first. When I turn around to face her fully, her eyes are wide.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, worrying her bottom lip and wringing trembling hands. “I shouldn’t have come here. You’re busy.”

My heart lodges itself in my throat at the fear radiating from her. “What’s going on?” I ask, taking a step closer.

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I was just in my head.”

Eyes narrowed, I search her from head to toe for any indication that she’s hurt. “It’s not nothing. What happened?”

She sucks in a breath. “It’s my brother.” She looks toward the window. “He called from an unknown number, so I wasn’t prepared when I picked up and—” A tear slides down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away.

“You shouldn’t have to be prepared to talk to family.”

Her green eyes go misty, looking like polished sea glass. “With mine you do.” Tears cascade down both cheeks with that simple sentence.

I want to pull her into my chest, hold her close, promise I’ll protect her. And I will protect her the best I can. But there’s no shielding her from her emotions, no matter how badly I want to. All I can do is be a safe place for her to express them.

She blows out a breath so tremulous, she shudders. That simple whoosh of air is uncontrollable and full of pain.

Fuck. How could a brother treat his sister in a way that would have this kind of effect? All my life, my only instinct when it’s come to my baby sister is to protect her.

Melina sucks in a sharp breath, hiccuping. “Jason is going to sue you.”

I shake my head, my shoulders tensing. Of course this is about Jason.

“What does that have to do with your brother?”

“Did you hear me? He’s going to sue you. You stepped in and helped me, and look what happened—I’m not worth it; you should have⁠—”

A flash fire of anger ignites in my veins. “Should have what? Let him hurt you?” I grit out, my words far too harsh for her fragile state. “Fuck that. Let him breathe another moment without knowing the kind of fear he instilled in you? Also wasn’t happening. And if you hadn’t been there, I’d have done a hell of a lot worse.”

Disbelief flashes across her tear-streaked face. “Why? You barely know me. Why do you care so much?”

Fuck it. This time I don’t hesitate to pull her against my chest. With one arm around her back and one hand tangled in her hair, I tug so she’s forced to look up at me. “Stop with that. I cared the moment I met you. It’s impossible not to care about you.”

“Because I’m weak,” she whispers. The devastation in her tone is what breaks me.

“You are not weak because someone took advantage of you.” I lean my forehead against hers, inhaling her sweet scent. “You are not weak because you’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t strong enough to fight back,” she mumbles.

Gut lurching, I confess, “Neither was I.”

She pulls back a fraction, her misty green eyes growing wide.

I’ve never told a soul what happened all those years ago, and I had no intention of ever sharing, but we both need this. Tugging her back into my chest, I hold her tighter. Fuck. I won’t be able to get it out if she’s looking at me.

“My father left when my sister was still a baby, and for years, the only thing my mother worried about was working to put food on the table and keeping a roof over our heads. When I was old enough to help out, I did. I worked at the fire station, I bused tables, I delivered newspapers, I caddied at the golf club. Anything to make a buck.” I cough out a laugh. Damn, some of those jobs were a blast. Others were hell. “Cade lived at the hockey arena. Back then, he was hoping to go pro. We were both insanely busy, and while all our friends—his friends, really—were out partying on the weekends, we were focused on our goals: For me, taking care of my family; him, hockey.”

Melina pushes back, and I take the hint, releasing my hold on her, but I keep my attention averted as she settles beside me, propping herself up on the edge of my desk.

“My mother cleaned for a wealthy woman in town. She was kind to her, and over the years, they’d become friends. The woman was all alone, so my mom started including her in our Sunday dinners. The woman got sick, and during my senior year of high school, she passed away. It wasn’t until my mom got a call a few weeks later that we discovered she’d left everything”—I peer down at Melina—“and I mean everything, to my mother. Suddenly, I had the means to go to college and I didn’t have to work three or four jobs at a time. We had money for new clothes for my sister, and for the first time I could remember, my mother could breathe easy. We were all just…I don’t know, lighter, I guess.”

For as well as I’ve kept this story locked in a vault for all these years, the words are tumbling out easily now. Melina is the only person I’ve ever met who makes me want to bare my soul. “I went to college the following fall, and things were great. My mom even started dating, which was something she didn’t have the time for or interest in before. She met a guy, and it got serious pretty quick. It was a relief, knowing she and Liv had a man around. Honestly, everything was so great that year.”

My chest tightens, and my breaths get shallow here. Things were so good then. I don’t even let myself think of that time anymore. It’s too painful to reminisce about what I can never have again.

“Cade and I both moved home the summer after our freshman year of college, and for the first time in my life, I had the time to just hang out. We’d go to the beach and hit up the bars. We weren’t old enough to drink, but even just sitting and having a burger and soda felt like a freedom I’d never known in this town.”

Hands clenched, I will my heart to beat steadily as I dive into the worst part.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

“That following spring, my mother and my sister were out of town to look at colleges, but I’d come home for some reason or another. My mom’s boyfriend had stayed behind, and because I liked the guy, I hung around and had dinner with him one night. Everything was fine—” I swallow hard, forcing myself to lock eyes with her. Regardless of how painful the memory is, she needs to hear this. “Until it wasn’t.”

Mouth turned down, she clutches my hand. “What happened?”

I take as deep a breath as the anvil resting on my chest will let me and keep my eyes on her. “I was bigger than him. Stronger than him. And none of that mattered.”

Melina’s face crumples, and her shoulders sag. “What did he do?”

Eyes closed, I block out the images that still haunt me when I let my guard down. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I wasn’t weak, but it happened anyway. I was caught off guard. There was no way to anticipate what he did. I was mortified, humiliated, and…I don’t know.” I grip my neck as the weight on my chest turns crushing. “Guilty, I guess. I didn’t tell my mother. If I had, maybe we could have salvaged something. But I took off. He did too. He disappeared, but not before he wiped her bank accounts.” I drop my head back and blink away the emotion building behind my eyes. “She still has no idea why he left.”

My mother and sister came home to find both of us gone. I’d gone back to college like a coward and pushed everyone away, including Cade. Thought that if I ignored it, I’d forget the feel of that man’s hands on me as he held me down.

But when my mother called me crying, saying he’d stolen everything, I knew I’d never move on. She blamed herself. Said she never should have trusted him.

“My mother didn’t have money for groceries, let alone my college tuition. I came home and begged the chief for a job. I’ve been here ever since.”

My confession leaves me raw. Exhausted and strung out. Yet for the first time, the guilt of it all doesn’t feel so heavy. Like telling her that she’s not to blame for Jason’s attack, that she shouldn’t feel weak for allowing it—as if that’s a thing—has made me realize that I’ve been harboring the same kinds of thoughts.

“I haven’t written a word since he touched me.” Melina’s confession brings me out of my own head, and I find myself studying her. Eyes worn, face etched with defeat. She’s so broken. “It’s been months since he first laid a hand on me, and—” Her voice cracks, and I swear I could kill the man. I should have squeezed tighter. Should never have let go. Her eyes meet mine. “I had this journal. It was so worn the leather felt like my favorite sweater. It would soothe me if I simply touched it.” She offers me a sad smile. “It had every song I’d ever thought into existence in it. Ten years of doodles.” She shakes her head and blinks away a few tears. “All of it gone because he didn’t get his way.”

My fingers clench into fists as I will myself to breathe.

“I don’t know how to start over,” she cries. “It’s like he stole my music. My soul. It’s so much more unbearable than if he’d only stolen years of my life. I can’t write a song. Not even a line.” The way she’s looking at me, the desperation in her gaze, the heartbreak in her tone, eats at me.

Unable to stop myself, I grasp her hand, needing to touch her. Wishing I could do more. Wishing I could ease her suffering and help her find herself again. Give her back her music.

But I’ve barely built a life worth living. I simply put one foot in front of the other every day and try to do the right thing. I don’t have anything to offer.

“How do you do it?” she whispers, clutching my hand to her chest and squeezing tight.

“Do what?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Move on. Trust again.” Her words shake as she adds, “Feel safe.”

I blink several times, processing the question. I’m not sure I did until I met her. I’ve never trusted anyone with my secrets. And I certainly haven’t moved on. I’ve spent years atoning for an incident I had no control over. Making sure my sister went to college. Making sure my mother never had to stress about paying the bills. They wouldn’t lose out because I had been too weak…

The thought startles me back to reality. Fuck. There I go, doing exactly what Melina is doing. Blaming myself.

“I’m working on it,” I say gruffly, pushing to stand. Suddenly, the air has gotten too thick. My eyes itch, and my chest burns.

“How?”

Focusing on a blank spot on the wall, I settle my hands on my hips. If she were anyone else, I’d turn into the asshole I’m known to be and storm out. Or I’d growl and tell her to go home. When my chest gets this heavy, all I want is to be alone. I can’t control this feeling, and the last thing I want is for others to see that weakness.

But I can’t push Melina away. She needs me. She’s been nothing but kind to me. Though no one deserves to be lashed out at the way I tend to do, it physically pains me to think of hurting her in that way.

I’ve gone this far, so I might as well go all the way and show her how I handle the pain and the anxiety and the intrusive thoughts. I stride back to my locker, yank out the coil of jute rope, stride back to Melina, and hold it out. It dangles between us like the tension in the air.

Her throat works as she swallows audibly, eyes wide and set intently on the jute.

I extend my arm farther, letting the rope sway. “You can touch it.”

Slowly, she reaches out and runs a finger across it. Her eyes jump to mine. “It’s prickly.”

“I have softer ones at home.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she surveys me, then the rope, then me again, as if she’s trying to work out what I do with them.

I sit in my desk chair, keeping a couple of feet between myself and Melina. “Not long after I hired Shawn, he opened up to us about his anxiety. He’s big on talking—and reading—and he has made it his mission to get the guys to open up more. As you can imagine, that’s not my thing, but this?” I lift the rope. “After hearing how it helped him, I did a little research of my own. And surprisingly, it does help.”

“How?” Excitement glints in her eyes. The sadness is still there, but it’s lessened. It’s accompanied now by an eagerness. Like maybe she wants to understand what kind of power it holds and whether it will cure her.

“It gives me somewhere to focus my energy when I feel out of control, when my emotions are too big for me to contain.” I grasp the rope with my other hand and work at the knot that holds it together. “Just touching it soothes me. Working on different types of knots, creating designs. As I’ve gotten better with it…” I shrug. “I don’t know why it works, but it does.”

“Do you ever do anything else with it?” The way she asks it, tentatively, but also with a sexy rasp, has my lips twitching into a smile.

“Do you mean sexually?”

I swear the air crackles between us as her eyes flare. “Yes.”

One brow arched, I nod. “I have. Yes.”

She heaves in a deep breath, like she can’t get enough oxygen. “Would you show me?”

I squeeze the jute in both fists. Fuck. There’s nothing I’d like more. But… “That’s not a good idea.”

Melina scoots across the edge of my desk, ducking her head to catch my eye. “Why?”

Her question hangs between us, and I have to press my hands to my thighs to keep from reaching for her. Lowering my head, I say, “Because you’re Cade’s girlfriend.”

“So?” There’s a sexy lilt to her voice. She doesn’t deny it. She’s his. The reminder is a knife to the chest.

I knew his feelings had moved beyond just physical attraction when he drove through the night to make sure she was okay, but I didn’t know precisely how she felt until now.

“So I don’t think he’d like it if I touched his girlfriend like that,” I say slowly, finally daring to look up into her eyes. It’s a mistake of epic fucking proportions, because if I’m not careful, I could get lost in them.

She grabs her phone and hands it to me. “Why don’t we ask him?”