Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Track 17

A YEAR WITHOUT RAIN

“You know it’s not the greatest idea to tire me out before the game, right, Coach?” Brooks groans as I force him through another set.

I’m struggling just as much, going full-out to keep up, when he falls to his ass on the ice.

Chest heaving and lungs burning, I hold up my hands. “You’re right. Sorry, I just…”

Brooks shakes his head. “I get it. When Sara drives me nuts, I tend to work it off this way too. Mel coming to visit soon?”

Lips pressed together, I shake my head. Mel is so not the problem. I’ve been traveling all week, so I haven’t seen her, but we’ve talked every day.

It’s the person I haven’t heard from that’s causing all this frustration.

Brooks, who’s on his skates again and stopping at the edge of the ice, picks up his towel and drags it across his sweaty face. “Come on, tell me what’s going on. If getting it off your chest will keep you from forcing me into these extra practices, I’ll even grab Aiden and listen to him give you relationship advice.”

I chuckle as I skate to his side. “It’s just…” I rough a hand over my face. “You and Sara were friends first, right?”

Brooks nods. “She was my best friend.”

“Weren’t you nervous that you could ruin what you had if your relationship didn’t work out? How did you know that you wanted the same things? That one of you wasn’t more invested than the other?”

“Sara is honest to a fault. We talked about everything,” Brooks laughs, “and I mean everything, before we jumped into a real relationship. She made sure to tell me what she was feeling, and that freed me to do the same.”

My chest tightens further, making it hard to breathe. “So talking? That’s your big advice?”

Brooks grins. “Yup.”

I’m falling for a person who says about three words a year, so basically, I’m fucked.

It takes me hours to decide what I want to say to Declan, but even after I’ve finally typed out the message, I chicken out before hitting Send.

As I head into the arena, having resigned myself to trying again later, my phone pings. I slip it from the pocket of my suit pants, assuming it’s Mel. She said she’d be in Boston this weekend. Hopefully she wants to make concrete plans.

But it’s not her name on the screen.

It’s Declan.

Declan: I’ve been told I need to grovel, but I have no fucking idea what that means. Even so, I didn’t want to let another day go by without saying I miss you.

My heart beats out a tattoo as I reread the message.

Declan texted me.

It’s such a simple move, and it’s stupid for me to let hope take flight the way it is.

But there’s no stopping the flurry of butterflies in my stomach. I’m still smiling when I walk into the arena.

“Isn’t that Melina?” Aiden points to a section where his wife normally sits with the rest of the team members’ significant others.

We’re in the second period, and they’ve just come in for a trade with the next line.

As I scan the faces in the crowd, War nudges me. “And Declan.”

Instantly, I find them, and the air whooshes from my lungs.

Groveling. That’s what he said.

Is that what this is?

Declan has never come to a Bolts game. The year I came on staff for the Bolts, I asked him over and over if he wanted tickets. He turned me down every time, so when the next season started, I didn’t bother. I haven’t offered since.

Fuck, I’ve never considered what it would be like to look up and see him here.

Seems irrational to be filled with such an inexorable sense of pride. I’m not the one playing.

But my chest is tight and my cheeks are aching as I take them in. Fuck. Yeah, it feels a hell of a lot like pride.

“Yeah, I think it is.”

Gavin sidles up to me, tablet in hand, asking for an opinion on a play. I let my focus drift back up to the stands one more time. And when Declan smirks at me, I know that I’ll like whatever the man has planned.

Groveling.

Is that a kink? Because if so, it’s one of mine.

I slap my goalie’s back. “Guess our practice wasn’t too rough on ya, huh?”

The game was a shutout. Three to nothing.

He laughs. “Heard Mel is here. That the reason for the big-ass smile?”

Aiden and War are standing at their lockers, each working on their ties before they head out for postgame interviews.

I shake my head and keep my mouth shut. They know why, but I’m not ready for the rest of the team to be privy to the details. Until Declan is on board with it, I’ll keep them to myself.

Doesn’t stop me from wanting to tell them that my boyfriend and girlfriend are here, though. Doesn’t stop me from hoping it’s true.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

Me? The permanent bachelor, dating not one, but two people. Declan Everhart and Melina Rodriguez. It’s too fucking good to be true.

And yet when we walk out of the tunnel after interviews are over, they’re both waiting for me. Lennox is there too. When she sees Aiden, she takes off and jumps into his arms.

Mel is worrying her lip, shifting from foot to foot as I make my way over. Declan is, unsurprisingly, wearing an expression I can’t read. It’s one I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but his mouth is turned down. He tracks my every move, my every breath, his look growing more intense the closer I get. Until I’m right there, a step away from them, and Mel is launching herself into my arms and squeezing me tight.

“I missed you,” she breathes.

Fuck, she feels good. I wrap my arm around her, burying my nose in her neck and inhaling.

Declan is still silent, still wearing that unreadable expression.

“I heard there’d be groveling.” I pull Mel into my side and meet Declan’s brown eyes.

He rears back in surprise and coughs out a laugh. “You want me to grovel here?” Swallowing audibly, he scans the space where my coworkers and hockey players and their spouses and children, some of whom are part of his extended family, are mingling.

Mel digs her fingers into my hip and squeezes. “Don’t tease him. He’s got a plan.”

I drag my attention back to her. Fuck, she’s pretty.

Her green eyes swim with delight. “It’s a really good plan,” she adds.

Declan clears his throat, garnering our attention. “I could grovel here.” He rolls his shoulders back and moves closer, like he’s working up the courage to do whatever he was going to do in private, right here, right now.

I hold my breath and then let it out in one big whoosh.

Before either of us can speak, Gavin appears with his daughter in his arms and his wife by his side. “Great game tonight, Fitz.” He nods. “Dec, Mel, glad you could make it.” He holds out his hand to Declan. “You coming to Beckett’s tomorrow for Christmas Eve?”

With a nod, Dec shakes his hand. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Gavin hikes Vivi up a little higher. “Have a good holiday, Fitz. See you next week.”

Millie gives Mel a quick hug, and then the little family is gone.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Heart thumping, I turn back to Declan. “Not here.” I don’t want to share this moment with anyone but the two of them. “My place.”

Declan’s lips tilt up, and his eyes brighten a little. That small response speaks volumes. Knowing I’ve pleased him is enough to send a spark of excitement through me.

With my arm around Mel and with Declan by my side, I usher them to the garage where the players and coaching staff park. It isn’t until Dec steps in front of me to open Mel’s door that I catch sight of the back of his Bolts jersey.

The sight of Fitz emblazoned on the Bolts blue fabric takes my goddamn breath away. Swallowing hard, I angle back without letting Mel go. Sure enough, hers says Fitz too. But they’re wearing different numbers. On her back, under my name, is a 1. Declan’s sporting the number 5. I shake my head, lips pursed, confused.

“That’s another part of his grovel,” Mel whispers.

Declan’s watching me, holding his breath. Like he’s waiting for me to put the pieces together. After a solid thirty seconds, he pulls Mel to his side, and they turn their backs to me.

It hits me then, like a punch to the solar plexus.

“Get it now?” he mumbles, turning back, hiding the number 15. Fifteen. My number through high school and college.

I still don’t quite get it, though. Why didn’t they put 15 on each of their backs?

Declan, obviously sensing my confusion, takes Mel’s hand. “Separately, our jerseys were meaningless, right? But put us together, Cade, and we’re perfect for you.”

I rear back, so bowled over by the admission that I almost lose my balance. “That’s really fucking good.”

Mel breaks out in a bright smile. “I told you it was a really good grovel.”

Declan steps closer and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “Will you forgive me for taking so long?”

“It’s only been a few days. I can’t imagine you could have custom jerseys made and shipped overnight,” I sputter. My mind is jumbled, and my heart gallops at his proximity.

Declan shakes his head. “That took a few days, but that’s not what I mean.”

I swallow. I know what he means. It took him a while to be ready for this. For us. Nose stinging, I pull in a breath to rein in my emotions and pull Mel in close. “Like you said, it’s perfect like this. We wouldn’t work if we weren’t all together.”

Mel bites her lip and blinks. “And that’s what you want?”

I guess we are doing this in public. “Yes, Mel. You and Dec. If that’s what the two of you want, then that’s what I want.”

Declan’s relieved breath fans against my cheek as I kiss our girlfriend. When I pull back, he’s watching me, his focus intent. Then, jaw working, he scans our surroundings. Guys are still trickling out to their cars, hollering goodbye and merry Christmas to one another.

Despite my concerns about how he’s handled things, I don’t need him to do this here. It doesn’t need to be public to count.

Before I can tell him that, he cups my face, his thumb pulling on my lips.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles. Then he’s pressing his lips to mine.

For an instant, I’m stunned, rigid. But his warm lips and rough calluses brushing against my jaw soothe me, and I kiss him back.

Between us, Mel squeals.

I melt against her, craving Declan’s firm embrace. These two, this moment, are everything.

He pulls away, but not before sinking his teeth into my lip and tugging. “Take us home.”