Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Track 5

NATURALLY

My phone rings as I weave my way through the swarms of people in the concourse, ignoring the stench of sweat and fried food hanging in the air.

“Chief Everhart.”

“Declan, it’s Lake Hall.”

“Hi, Lake. Everything okay?” I ask distractedly while I search the crowd for the short brunette I lost sight of a moment ago.

“Mel’s cousin just called. She’s been blowing up Mel’s phone, but she can’t get ahold of her.”

The tension in Lake’s tone leaves me uneasy. “What did she say?”

“She accidentally spilled to her mother, who told Mel’s mother, who must have told Mel’s brother⁠—”NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

“Lake,” I grit out.

“She thinks Mel’s ex is in Boston at the game. Can you get ahold of Cade? Tell them to assign someone to stick with her at all times? Her ex is seriously deranged, and I can’t reach her to warn her.”

“I’m on it.”

“You’re on it? Oh my god, please tell me you’re on your way there. I knew you weren’t going to let her leave without following her.”

I hang up the phone without responding.

No one needs to know the many reasons as to why I’m here in Boston. How the fire this week fucked with my head. How Lily’s words affected me more than I’d like to admit. How Cade’s taunt—or offer, however you want to look at it—has kept my brain working overtime.

No, the most obvious reason that I’m here is because I’m a control freak. Of course I wouldn’t let Melina out of my sight. Regardless of how badly she doesn’t want to believe she’s in danger, she is, and because she’s fucking trouble, she needs to believe she has at least a modicum of freedom.

Rather than locking Melina in her room like I was tempted to do, I followed her, and now here I am, walking through a fucking throng of people because I lost sight of her for half a damn second.

God, the woman drives me fucking crazy. She’s not even mine, and yet I can’t stand the thought of losing her. If anything happens to her…

Breathe, she’s going to be okay. She’s probably in the⁠—

The sound of a slap rings out over the din, instantly putting me on alert. A sickening sense of dread twists in my gut as I pull up short and do a one-eighty, searching for the source of the noise.

“You think you can leave me?” a man hisses. “You think you can parade around like a little slut and leave me?”

Melina’s there, only a few feet away, pushed up against the wall, her cheeks stained with tears, one an angry red. The man looming over her has her gripped by the neck.

Without hesitation, I’m charging at them. I’m not the first person to react—thank fuck for Bolts fans; this town is full of good people—but I’m the one who clutches at his shoulders and tears him away from her.

“I will fucking kill you.” I slam him against the wall and grab him by the throat just like he did to Melina.

“We were just having a conversation. She’s my girlfriend. You know how it is.” He says it as if we’re best friends. Like because I’m a man, I should understand why it was necessary for him to knock a woman around.

Filled with blind rage, I squeeze his throat tighter and slap my hand against the wall. “Here’s what I know. I know that every camera in this vicinity will be wiped if I ask. I know that every person in the stadium will forget that you were even here. Forget that you even exist. I know that if I squeeze just a little tighter right here,” I pinch down, and his face turns so purple I think he may actually pop, “I’ll break your windpipe and air will escape into your neck and chest, which will cause you to have a heart attack and die in mere minutes.”

“Declan, please,” Melina cries. “He’s not worth it.”

Despite her pleading, the sound of her voice only makes me squeeze tighter. I hate the fear in it. Hate that only an hour ago, she walked into this arena and jumped into Cade’s arms, wearing the brightest smile, yet now, this jackass has stolen that smile. I love that smile. I want to see it every day, even if it’s only aimed at Cade.

“Dude, you’re going to kill him,” someone shouts.

Dammit. He’s probably right.

My pulse is pounding so loud in my ears that I can barely hear the crowd around me, but I can feel her fear, and that guts me.

“Please,” she whispers as I meet her tear-streaked face.

With a grunt, I release him. His body crumples to the ground, but I don’t stop to watch. I march straight over to Melina and press my hand—the hand that almost took the life of another person—to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

She sobs. “No. You saved me,” she whispers, covering my hand with hers. “Take me home. Please. Take me home.”

Like it’s second nature, I sweep her up into my arms. I don’t put her down even once we get outside.

As I step out onto the sidewalk, her driver scrambles out of the car and darts over to us, brow furrowed in concern.

“Can you take us back to my house? I’ll come back for my car later.”

He leads us to the car and opens the door. I still don’t put Melina down. It’s a challenge, but I manage to get us both settled inside. Then I hold her in my arms the whole way home.

My phone rings nonstop the entire way. I know I’m an ass for not calling to let Lake know Melina is okay, but with the way she’s shaking in my arms, I don’t dare let her go for even a second. I stroke her arm with my thumb, molding my body around hers, wishing I could shield her from pain.

The driver helps me get her into the house, carrying her bag and unlocking the door once I’ve dug my keys out of my pocket. I head straight to her bedroom, but when I try to set her on the bed so I can lock up, she clings to my chest.

“Please don’t go.”

Pulling her tight to me again, I nod at the driver. “Thank you. I’ll lock up later.”

With tears streaming down her face, she whimpers. “I’m so sorry I’m a mess.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your emotions. I know I’m not good at this. I know I’m probably not who you want⁠—”

She clutches at my shirt and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “You’re who I need.”

The desperation in her voice, the sadness, it’s all overwhelming.

Just as I drop my cheek to the top of her head and soak in the feel of her pressed up against me, my phone chimes again. “That’s probably Lake,” I murmur.

Sucking in a hard breath, she peers up at me. The brokenness in her gaze damn near kills me. “Why would she be calling you and not me?”

“Your phone is off. It’s why no one could reach you to warn you about⁠—”

Melina flinches, so I snap my mouth shut and swallow his name.

“Shit,” she whispers. She wriggles in my arms, so I ease her down and help her settle on the side of the bed. With her phone out, she powers it on, and when the screen lights up, one message after another pops up in rapid succession. She doesn’t bother to read them; she just hits Lake’s name and calls her.

My head is a jumbled mess as I listen to her tell Lake that she’s okay, that she’s home with me. I take a step back and thumb over my shoulder at the door, silently asking whether she wants privacy. She responds with a resolute shake of her head, so I pull out my phone and get to work dealing with the mess I made at the arena.

Without sorting through the text messages and missed call notifications, I navigate to the contact I need.

Me: I need you to pull the security footage from the hallway outside of C 110 and probably the surrounding ones too.

Beckett: It’s already done. Is she okay?

Me: No. But I’ve got her. Don’t destroy the tapes. If she wants to press charges, I want her to have that choice.

Beckett: If we turn over those tapes, that guy won’t be the only one facing questions.

Me: Don’t care. It’s her choice, and I’m not taking it away from her.

Beckett: Done. Liv and Sara have a team dealing with witnesses.

Me: Thank you.

I set my phone on her bedside table and turn it on silent. I never switch off the ringer. It’s important for me to be available for the guys at the department. But for tonight, they can figure it out. The entire town could be on fire, and I wouldn’t leave this room.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, though I don’t think she’s talking to me.

Thank god I’m trained in trauma response. If I had to do this using only my own instinct, I’d fail. And failing her isn’t an option.

“How about we focus on small things right now? Like getting changed and ready for bed?”

With her lip caught between her teeth and her eyes downcast, she gives me a small nod. From there, though, we’re both still, quiet. She drags her focus up to my face, frowning, like she doesn’t even know where to start.

I push off the mattress, but she grabs my leg, halting the movement. Dropping down again, I place my palm over her trembling hand. “I’m just going to grab something for you to sleep in.”

She shakes her head. “Please don’t leave me.”

I squeeze her hand and duck closer. “I’m not leaving you.”

She’s dressed in a Bolts jersey and jeans. Neither would be anywhere close to comfortable enough to sleep in, so I slip off my sweater, then pull my white undershirt over my head.

I hold it out to her, my heart stuttering. “You can sleep in this if you want.”

She nods but doesn’t make a move to take it or to undress.

“Do you need help?”

Her eyes well with tears, and her breathing grows more ragged. “I-I—” She snaps her mouth shut, quieting a sob.

“I got you,” I murmur, my heart aching for her. “Can you put your hands up for me?”

She does as she’s told, and I undress her. Her chest is covered in red blotches, the sight enough to make my anger surge again. Despite the way her breasts spill out of her bra when she unhooks it, nothing about this is sexual.

Once I’ve tugged my white T-shirt over her head, she sighs, and the tension in her shoulders eases. She brings the collar of my shirt to her lips and rubs it against them. “Smells like you.”

It probably smells awful. Fear and adrenaline combined inside me tonight, causing me to sweat buckets while I searched for her and as I pulled that asshole off her. But her expression has softened, like the scent brings her comfort, so I don’t give it too much thought.

“Can I unbutton your jeans?” I ask.

She nods again, her breath finally beginning to even out, and lifts the T-shirt high enough that the underside of her breasts peek out. I focus on the task at hand, getting her comfortable, all the while ignoring the longing that hits me at the sight. The desire to hold her against my bare chest. I’m not sure either of us will be at rest until I do. Once I’ve undone her pants, she leans back, allowing me to pull them off, revealing a pair of black lace boy shorts.

She sits again, the shirt falling over her hips before I can study the way her panties mold to her curves. Thank god for that.

“You should have some water and an aspirin before bed. Do you want to come me to get them, or do you want to stay here?”

The fear that flashes in her eyes is the only response I need. Hovering in front of her, I grip her ass and guide her legs around my waist. Once she’s settled and I’ve got a good hold on her, I carry her like a koala.

For the first time tonight, she smiles at me. “Thank you.”

The ache to kiss her, to thank her for allowing me to take care of her, almost overtakes me.

But she’s not mine, and even if she were, the last thing she needs right now is to be mauled by another man.

So I ignore the way her plump ass feels in my hands as I lumber down the hallway and toward the kitchen. I ignore the way she lays her head against my collarbone as I detour to the front door and turn the lock. And I ignore how her warm breath skates over my neck when she sighs and the shiver that runs down my spine as she curls her hand around the back of my neck and plays with my hair.

Bottle of water in hand, I take her to my bathroom, where I set her down on the counter and search the medicine cabinet for aspirin.

She looks around my space, eyes wide, as if she’s memorizing it. “You have a nice shower,” she says of the oversized tiled space with multiple shower heads, including a rain one.

I grunt my agreement. “Feel free to use it whenever you want.”

She gives me a soft smile as I press two aspirin into her palm and then hold out the bottle of water.

Once she’s recapped the water, I pick her up again and carry her back to her bed.

As I settle her beneath the covers, she lets out a heavy sigh. “Okay, you’ve done enough babysitting me. I’ll be okay.”

I study her, searching for a hint of what she really wants. If she’s not comfortable with me here, I’ll sit outside her door. But if she wants me close, nothing could pull me from her side.

“I can sit above the covers until you fall asleep. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I offer.

She turns so she’s on her side, her face smooshed adorably against the pillow, making her lips pout as she regards me. “I think I’d be pretty comfortable wrapped up in those big arms of yours.”

This girl. Even after the night she’s had, she’s still got the flirty sarcasm going for her. Breathing easier knowing he hasn’t destroyed her spirit, I tug back the covers. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

“You can’t sleep in your jeans.” Her voice is raspy, and fuck if I’m not cursing myself for what I’m about to do.

Head dropped back, staring up at the ceiling and deciding that I’ll ask for forgiveness from Cade rather than seeking approval, I unbutton my pants and shuck them off. Then I slide beneath the sheets with his girl.

I have no idea what the fuck is really going on between them, but she cares for him, and he likes her too. And even though the two of us are in bed together, wearing very little, I’m here as her friend only. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when she pulls my hand to her lips and kisses it and then doesn’t let go.

I’m woken by a loud noise and then heavy footsteps.

Guilt mixes with adrenaline as I realize that Melina has wrapped her warm body around me, her thigh draped over my hips and my hard cock, her lips brushing against my bare chest.

The door swings open, startling me. Out of instinct, I roll on top of her, hovering over her body, shielding her.

“What the fuck?” Cade hisses.

I breathe a sigh of relief and look down at the sleeping woman beneath me. Sitting up, I nod at Cade, silently signaling him to move out into the hall. He’s panting like he ran here, and his eyes are murderous.

Fuck.

Despite the dread that’s working its way through me, I don’t rush off the bed. I take my time so as not to wake her. The last thing she needs is to be woken in the middle of the night.

I slip out the door and press it closed before I turn to face my best friend.

“What the fuck?” He looks me up and down, teeth gritted, eyes blazing with anger.

It’s then that I realize that I’m in only my boxers.

I adjust myself, because my cock is jutting out like I was just naked in bed with his girlfriend. Then I fold my arms across my chest. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I’ve been calling you for three fucking hours. I was in the middle of a press conference when I heard, and when you didn’t pick up any of my hundred fucking phone calls, I got in the car and drove here. Is she okay?”

His breathing is ragged, and he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s considering going through me to get to her.

I hold up my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have called, but she needed me, and I—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry.”

“Is she okay?” he grits out again.

I force myself to meet his gaze, and for the first time tonight, I really take him in. This is a side of Cade I didn’t know existed. He’s never emotional. Never out of control. But right now, I’m pretty sure he could tear me to pieces. It’s in this moment that I understand just how much he cares about her.

“She’s okay. And nothing happened between the two of us.”

He frowns. Probably because he doesn’t believe me after the way he found us tangled together in bed.

“You can trust me. She was in shock and didn’t want to be alone.”

With a heaving breath, Cade deflates a little. “Did he hurt her?”

Anger pummels me from the inside when I replay the moment I heard Jason’s palm hitting Melina’s cheek. The memory of the fear in her eyes as he squeezed the air from her lungs is like a knife to the heart. “It could have been worse,” I say.

“Beckett says he was hospitalized.”

Maybe I should feel bad. Maybe I should be concerned about what happened to him. Instead, I feel nothing.

“You did that?”

With a single nod, I say, “I told you, I’ve got her. You can trust me.”

Dropping his head forward, he curses softly. “Can I see her?”

“She needs rest.”

“Fine.” He lifts his hat from his head and settles it again, a nervous tic of his. “I’ll sleep in the guest room and check on her in the morning.”

“Don’t you have a game in California on Sunday?” I glance at the clock on the wall. “You have to be on the plane in what, five hours?”

Shoulders sagging, he roughs a hand down his face. “Four.”

I frown. “Go home.”

“No.”

I stare at my best friend. What the fuck is his issue? Does he just want to know that she’s okay? Or is it something else?

“Cade, I’ve got her. You’ve got a job to do, and this is my job. Let me take care of your girl until you get back. She’s going to need a few days to recover anyway. Let her lick her wounds and get her bearings.”

Hands clenched, he mutters something indistinguishable, his head still bowed. The man is clearly at war with himself.

Without overthinking it, I step forward until I’m chest to chest with him, then I grab him by both arms and force him to look at me. “She’s okay. I’ve got her. I promise you. She’s going to be okay.”

Cade’s blue eyes swim with so much emotion, so much conflict. “I care about her,” he admits, like he needs me to hear that she’s different. As if I didn’t know. I’ve never seen him this way. Never knew he had it in him to break for someone else. This is a different side to Cade, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

But outside of my family, he is my closest friend—the person who matters most to me in the world—and right now, he needs my help.

“I know you do. And you can trust me to take care of her. You know that, right?”

Cade blows out a breath, and I taste the acceptance against my lips. For a moment, I consider pulling him into my chest. He looks like he needs a hug, and dammit, so do I. I could fall apart so easily right now, if only I weren’t the one who needed to hold it all together.

I’m still battling with myself when he steps back and claps me on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

Swallowing back my disappointment, I dip my chin. “You need to get back to Boston. You okay to drive?”

It’s after one a.m. By the time he gets home, he’ll be lucky to get an hour or two of sleep before he has to head out again.

“I’m wired,” he admits. “I’ll be fine.” He regards the door, roughing a hand over his mouth. “You gonna go back and sleep in there with her?”

I clench my fists at my sides. Fuck. I have no idea how I should handle this. Or maybe I do. Melina made it clear what she wants, and I can’t say no to her. “She asked me to.” My chest goes tight. There’s no way he’s okay with how he found me in bed with his girl.

To my utter shock, he nods simply. “Good. You should do that, then.” He thumbs toward the door. “I’ll lock up on my way out.”

Even after he’s dismissed me, he stands in the hall, watching me. Like he needs to see me go. Like he needs to know that I’ll be there to protect her. So, despite the discomfort settling in my gut, I shuffle into the bedroom and climb into bed with Melina, ignoring his scrutiny. I can’t handle looking at him right now. I don’t want to see the hurt or jealousy or anger he’s got to be feeling.

The moment I settle, it’s like she subconsciously knows I’m back. Without waking, she scoots closer, wrapping her warm body around me.

The sharp hiss from the doorway snags my attention, and I finally force myself to look at Cade. I’m not sure what to make of the expression he wears as he watches us. Maybe it’s my exhaustion, or maybe it’s the dark, or maybe I know jack shit about feelings and reading people and I’m making it all up in my head, but to me, his expression looks a hell of a lot like love.