Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Track 15

BACK TO YOU

“I’m so glad you could make time for me before heading back to Boston,” my mother says as she pulls me in for a hug. She’s good like that, chiding me gently while wiping away my annoyance by hugging me. My mom gives the best hugs, and I’m most certainly in need of one after the way I left Declan’s house.

“Of course, Ma, and I brought gifts.” I rest a hand on the small of Mel’s back.

Beside me, she’s wearing a coy smile and holding the gifts I bought in town, including the bouquet Amelia set aside.

“Oh, a girl? This really is a good gift,” my mother says with far too much delight.

I chuckle, ignoring her teasing. “I mean the flowers and the limoncello. Brought one for Andrea too. She here?” I crane my neck to look past her, but she’s not having any of it.

“Introduce me to the girl,” she hisses, side-stepping to remain in my field of vision. Her glare quickly turns into a smile, and then she’s focused on Mel. “I’m Cade’s mother, and you are⁠—”Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Is that Melina Rodriguez?” Declan’s mom asks as she materializes in the dining room behind my mother. My parents built this home when I was a kid, and I’ve helped Ma keep it up over the years.

“It is,” I say, pulling Mel closer. “Mel, this is my mother, Janine Fitzgerald, and this is Declan’s mom, Andrea Everhart. Moms,” I say, not bothering to fight my smile, “this is Mel.”

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Mel says, holding out the bouquet to my mother.

Mom takes it, but with a shake of her head, she stuffs it into my arms. Then she pulls Mel in for a hug.

“Never thought I’d see the day that my son brought home a girl.”

I cough out a laugh as they embrace.

Andrea steps up and wraps her arms around Mel too. When they pull apart, she frowns at me. “No Declan?”

“He had to work,” I say, swallowing back my annoyance.

“The boy works too much,” his mother replies, though she seems to take the news in stride as she and my mom usher us into my childhood home.

“He’s got an important job,” Mel says, as if she feels the need to remind us.

I brush a kiss to her temple. “He’s right. You are a sweetheart,” I mutter. With a small smile, I step away, taking the flowers and bottle of limoncello to the kitchen.

“Has my son been a good host?” Andrea asks Mel as we settle around the kitchen island, where appetizers have been laid out. “He can be pretty reserved.”

My mother laughs. “That’s her nice way of saying that Declan talks in grunts.”

Mel’s responding smile is tight. “He talks to me.”

I bristle with annoyance. If Declan had come to dinner, our mothers wouldn’t be peppering Mel with all these questions.

Though it would have been a big step to show up together now that we’re⁠—

Fuck, what the hell are we?

My irritation melts into concern, and I find myself reaching for my phone and texting Declan.

Me: You should see our mothers with Mel.

I stare at the screen, heart beating quickly, waiting to see that little delivered message turn to read. When I’ve watched far longer than is polite while in the presence of other people, I give up and stuff the device into my pocket.

Declan doesn’t text.

With the exception of Olivia and Mel.

Even after all this time, even after all that’s transpired over the last few days, I’m not one of his exceptions.

Why the fuck does that bother me so much?

The moms and Mel have moved on to a new topic when I finally force myself to remain in the present. Unsurprisingly, both women are enthralled by my girl. She entertains them with stories about music tours and other musicians.

By the time we say goodnight and my mom pulls me in for an extra tight hug, the older women have exchanged numbers with Mel and have planned a trip to Boston to watch a game and meet the two of us for dinner.

Tonight was exactly the type of night I’d have wished for if I’d ever thought of being in a committed relationship. Before Mel, I’d never seen myself as the committed type.

Now, though?

Now the idea of hanging out with her and our moms is easy. Incredible. It would have been perfect had my phone not remained dreadfully silent all evening.

I had to hold myself back from checking my messages at least a dozen times.

And when we get in the car and I finally pull it out, only to find Declan still hasn’t responded, anger takes over. For thirty-five years, we’ve been friends. Sure, he had to work today, and maybe disappearing the way he did had nothing to do with Mel and me. But he could have fucking responded to my text. Could have—fuck, I don’t even know. Declan’s never been one to talk. It shouldn’t bother me so much, but the difference between the way he communicates with me and the way he communicates with Mel is hard to ignore. The lack of contact is like a punch to the gut.

Despite how much he does talk to Mel, she didn’t seem upset when he said he was busy today. She didn’t check her phone all night long like I wanted to. She always knows exactly what he needs.

And I don’t.

“Cade,” she says, her tone concerned, like maybe it’s not the first time she’s said my name.

I look over at her, our surroundings coming into focus. Shit. I’m parked in Declan’s driveway, and I don’t recall a single moment of the drive.

She nods toward the door. “We going in?”

I shake my head. No. I have zero interest in hurting myself by walking in there and exposing my raw heart to my best friend. “I think I’ll just head back to Boston so I can get some rest before the team flies out tomorrow.”

Mel’s green eyes widen, and she settles back in her seat. “Cade.”

“It’s fine.”

“We should talk to⁠—”

“We’ve talked enough this weekend. He’s done a lot. Maybe too much,” I add bitterly.

It’s all too much too soon. For him, at least. Me? I’ve wanted Declan for more than twenty years. What I’ve gotten so far is nowhere near enough. We’re moving at a snail’s pace in my mind, but for him…

I drag my hand through my hair. “He kissed me today. Then I asked him to come to my mom’s for dinner, and he said no.” Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I blink at her, willing her to understand what a big deal tonight could have been for us. And how disappointed I am that he wasn’t ready. That he was okay touching me, but that he wasn’t ready for anything more than that. “I need a little space.”

Shoulders falling, Mel squeezes my hand. Though her posture is one of defeat, her expression is understanding. She gets it, and she knows precisely what I need, so she won’t argue. “Okay. I’ll miss you, though.”

I angle over the center console. Fuck, I hate that I have to leave her already. “This changes nothing for me. I’m happy you met my mom. She loved you.”

Mel’s lips curve. “Yeah? I liked her a lot. Both of them. They’re wonderful.”

Cupping her jaw, I brush my thumb against her cheek. “You’re wonderful.”

She closes her eyes and presses her lips to mine. They’re warm and soft and exactly what I need.

Cursing myself and my stupid feelings, the need to leave, I press my thumb to her lip and pull back. “Don’t think you need to keep yourself from him because I’m not there.” I turn and survey the front of the house. “You don’t have to call me to ask for permission.”

She bites down on my finger, the move meant to draw my attention back to her face. “Call me when you get home?”

Nodding, I press my lips to hers, hoping like hell this isn’t the last time I get to taste her.