Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

I can’t help but gape at Declan’s back as he hightails it out of the room. “You think he’s okay?”

“He’s big on Sunday breakfast.” Cade shrugs, running a hand through my hair. “Anyway, are you sure you’re ready to go back to New York?”

A heavy weight settles in my chest. That question has been flitting through my head on and off since I got into the studio yesterday.

Especially after the incredible night with the guys. God, my mind is running wild with melodies and music I want to create.

But the idea of leaving my guys, of not waking up in Declan’s bed every morning, guts me.

With a sigh, I shrug. “I don’t know. I owe quite a few songs to the label.”

I should lay it all out. Tell Cade what’s really eating at me is the uncertainty of what happens next for us, especially if I leave. But that’s a conversation all three of us should be involved in.

If I want this—a relationship with both of them—keeping everyone in the loop needs to be a priority.NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

The last thing I want is for Declan to think we’re strategizing about how to deal with him. He’s done so well the last few days. If I’m honest with them both over breakfast, maybe we can figure out how to make this work.

God, just the thought of it has my nerves twisting, but excitement is there too.

“You know you can talk to me,” Cade says gently, his mouth fixed in a straight line.

Shit. I’ve probably been silent for quite some time.

“I know,” I say, running a hand over his jaw. “And I will. I’d like to talk to both of you, actually.”

With a smile, he stands and pulls me to my feet. “All right Trouble, I have a feeling I’ll like whatever you have to say.” He kisses me and leads me toward the shower. “But first, I promised Dec I would clean you up.”

By the time we make it out of the bedroom, the house smells like the most incredible combination of bacon, pancakes, and coffee.

In the kitchen, Declan is setting plates on the table.

As I step closer and notice there are only two, I frown. “This looks amazing,” I say, though my tone is slightly guarded.

He nods, but he doesn’t meet my eye. “I have to get ready for work. Enjoy breakfast.”

“You’re working today?” Cade asks, brows pulling together.

“Yeah, I took off yesterday, but today’s my day on.”

Disappointment rolls through me like a wave. Cade is leaving tomorrow morning, and if Declan is working, that means we won’t get more time together until Cade visits again.

“You can’t stay for breakfast so we can talk? I wanted to discuss something.”

“I’ll be home later tonight,” Declan says, finally looking at me, his expression shuttered. “Unless you don’t plan on being here?”

What? Why wouldn’t I be here? And why is he acting so strange? What happened between the moment he climbed out of bed and now?

“I’m having dinner with our moms tonight,” Cade says. “They want to meet Mel. I was hoping the three of us could go.”

Declan scowls. Actually scowls. My heart sinks. Is the idea of introducing me to his mom that awful?

“I wish you would have mentioned it earlier. I would have told you tonight doesn’t work for me.”

“Guess I thought we had more time,” Cade says, his tone full of defeat.

The words are like a punch to the gut. They hold so much more meaning. More time today. More time after. To talk about where we go from here. How we can make this work.

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Declan says. Though his tone is brusque, it’s laced with hurt.

Confusion engulfs me, and pain lances my heart. How the hell did we go from being so in tune with one another’s needs to this?

I stare at Cade, silently urging him to push Declan to stay. Then I turn back to Declan, wishing like hell he’d stop closing himself up. Neither understands my unspoken pleas, and I’m too scared to voice them. Too scared I’ll say the wrong thing and lose them both.