Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

“You’re awfully quiet,” Cade says as he settles beside me on the couch. I’m curled up with a cup of coffee, and he’s right. I’m a bit lost in my thoughts, I guess.

The last forty-eight hours have been life-altering.

It’s a reminder that life can change on a dime. A car crash, a birth, the right producer liking a song, a slap across the face. It’s just that this one feels so monumental and not like it happened out of the blue. It feels like my life has been building to this moment. Like everything that has happened up until today has led me to these two men, has led me to being open and ready and willing to start this next chapter…

And yet I still can’t find the words to describe how I feel, and that is leaving me quiet.

There’s no melody guiding me into this phase of my life, and that void feels loud, like a wind tunnel I can’t escape.

The words, the notes, the chorus and the bridge, they’re all there. That’s how I live my life, in song. And yet I can’t hear it.

“Just relaxing,” I say simply. Because how would I even explain all the thoughts plaguing me?

Cade pulls me onto his lap and snuggles me close, burying his face in my neck. “You smell so good.”

I laugh. “We all smell like sex.”

He nips at my shoulder. “Fucking delicious.” Pulling back, he hits me with that boyish grin I love so damn much. “Sure you’re okay? I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Warmth flows through me, and that noise in my head dims slightly. “It all seems too good, if I’m being honest.”

With a shake of his head, he bites down on his lip. “There’s no such thing as too good, Trouble. I’m going to go shower.” He raises his brows in suggestion, then lifts me off his lap and sets me on the couch again. “Feel free to join me, and I’ll get you all cleaned up.”

With a roll of my eyes, I laugh, watching him stroll down the hall toward the guest bathroom, whistling, then stop when he gets to the door so he can turn around and wink at me.

It is too good. Every single minute of it.

A moment after he disappears, the door to the master bedroom swings open, and Declan, fresh from his shower, walks toward me, his gait determined, with a small package in his hand. “Want more coffee?”

With a shake of my head, I set my cup on the table. “No. I’ll be a jittery mess at high tea if I do. As it is, I’m nervous that if Carmella even looks at me, I’ll blurt out that I fucked the chief and his best friend.”

Declan barks out a surprised laugh, the sound making my insides warm and gooey. God, it feels good to know I can make him truly smile. These moments are so rare and beautiful, so I soak up every single ounce of his joy. “Yeah, maybe don’t lead with that story,” he says. “You have nothing to be nervous about, though. The girls are all great, and they’ll all love you.”

I shrug as Declan eases onto the couch beside me. “I know it’s silly, but I like to be liked.” Swallowing hard, I turn and give him my full attention. “And these are Lake’s friends. So they’re important to me.”

With a hand on my thigh, Declan squeezes gently. “You’re a sweetheart. There’s no way they won’t love you.”

The way he says it, not just the words or the tone, but also the way he’s looking at me, like I hung the moon and the sun and the stars in the sky, makes me believe that maybe he finds it impossible not to love me too.

A girl can dream, right?

“What do you have there?” I ask, ready to change the subject before I spill all my silly hopes.

He grips the package in his lap tightly, like he’s worried I’ll swipe it from him. “Just a little something I picked up for you at the festival last night.”

There goes that hope again. It floats up, making my heart bob like a buoy in my chest. “You bought me a present?” I ask, squealing with a little too much excitement.

Declan shakes his head slightly, trying to downplay the beautifully wrapped gift. “It’s just a little something.” He presses it into my chest, assessing me.

Nervous, I can’t help but worry my lip, though my smile doesn’t leave my face. “Thank you.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“You don’t even know what you’re thanking me for.”

I do. I really, really do. For thinking of me. For putting me first, time and again. For being here. “It’s the thought I’m thanking you for. Once I open the gift, I’m sure I’ll have more to say.”

I slide my hand under the tape, trying hard to not tear the thick purple paper. The package has weight to it, and when I fold back the wrapping paper, I discover it’s because it’s a leather-bound book.

A deep navy blue journal with a gold compass on it. The sight of it, the soft feel of the leather, are a comfort.

“Sorry, everything in this town is either nautical or red, white, and blue.” He shrugs like this gift needs an apology. “Thought maybe you could use it to write down the stories that pop into your head.” He lifts one shoulder again. “Or ya know, maybe music.”

He bought me a new journal.

My throat grows incredibly tight.

“It’s got a compass,” I say stupidly, as if he doesn’t already know that. I brush the pads of my fingers over the surface, noting how the gold is raised, making it slightly rugged, just like the man in front of me. I close my eyes, savoring this moment. “Maybe it will help me find my way,” I whisper.

When I open my eyes, Declan is closer. I immediately reach for him, crawling into his lap, the journal still in my hand, and press it against his chest.

“This was⁠—”

Once again, I’m at a loss for words, but right now, it doesn’t feel debilitating. Words don’t feel necessary. A kiss is all the moment needs. Like our lips know exactly what we both need.

Just like Declan always knows what I need.