Page 25 of Trouble

Even when Lake and I grabbed lunch in town, a gaggle of firefighters just so happened to be taking their lunch at the same place.

It’s stifling.

Although focusing on my irritation withDeclan has distracted me from stressing about how I can’t write a lyric to save my life, so I guess that’s a plus.

“You know as well as I do that your husband doesn’t want to leave your side.” One last swipe of mascara, and I’m ready.

The car service has already been arranged, compliments of Cade, my bag is packed, and Sara and Lennox made arrangements for me to sit with them. It’s exactly the kind of night I need. A reminder that I’m not a prisoner.

That I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman who’s done nothing wrong. That I’m allowed to have fun.

Once the game is over, win or lose, I’m counting on Cade to take me back to his apartment so he can do filthy things to my body.

My legs tingle at the mere thought of it.

Since Saturday, I’ve been insatiable. Getting off in Declan’s house, knowing he’s on the other side of the wall, is strange.

Especially since every time I shut my eyes, I can’t help but imagine his body, despite how annoyed with him I am.

I blame Cade. He painted this picture of the two of them touching me, and now I can’t get it out of my head. I want them both. Badly.

But only one has made himself available to me.

Declan warned me that Cade was a playboy, yet Cade’s the one who’s not playing games. He tells me what he wants and follows through. With Declan, I constantly find myself questioning whether I’m misinterpreting his actions.

“Then we’ll both go. We’ll bring Nash. He’d love to watch his big brother play.”

“Lake, he’s an infant. Pretty sure he won’t be watching the game,” I say. Then, with a wicked smile, I throw in “It’s twenty degrees out. Keep him warm at home with his mom and dad. He’s got enough of an uphill battle, seeing as how his other brother is your ex.”

“Shut it,” she hisses, though the sound quickly turns into a laugh.

My chest feels lighter. My life has felt so serious this week. “I’m serious. Can you imagine the memoirs they’re gonna write about that kid? You better start saving up for all the therapy he’s going to need.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

She sighs. “I just want you to be safe.”

My heart clenches at her sincerity. God, she’s a good friend. “I will be. I’ll be at a hockey game with a million people. Jason hates hockey. And he lives in Jersey. Even if he somehow spotted me on TV, he couldn’t get there quick enough to cause a problem. It’s going to be fine.”

Dina: We’re going to the festival of lights tonight. Wish you were here.

I stare at my cousin’s text for a long moment, hit with a confusing mix of emotions. Attending the festival of lights is a family tradition that’s existed for as long as I’ve been alive. It’s held at this beautiful church that has acres of private land. Every year, the space is decorated beautifully. The older Portuguese parishioners cook for days and serve the food family style on cafeteria tables covered in beautiful linens that have been passed down for generations. Every Friday night in December, they hold a candlelit vigil, and our family always attends the second one.

As a child, I’d sing in the chorus, and as an adult, I donate and kept my head down. Year after year, I’m reminded by my family that it’s improper to boast, and apparently, they believe that if I continued to sing with the chorus, that’s what I’d be doing.

I loved the event, even when I couldn’t participate, and a part of me wishes I were there. Though a bigger part, the part that finally worked up the nerve to cut off everyone there but Dina, knows that I can’t go back. That the tradition has been sullied. The magic that surrounded it and so many other special activities died when my family chose Jason over me.

Me: Miss you.

It hurts, how Jason is still stealing from me. How often I think thatit would be so much easier to agree with my brother. To believe that my consent was implied because he was my boyfriend. Or that I obviously tripped the time I ended up with a broken ankle. But I do know better, and wishing for things to be different does no good.

As the car pulls into the arena parking lot, my phone buzzes again.

Sara: Are you here yet? I’m stuck with the press right now, but Lennox is going to meet you at the players’ entrance. That should allow you to stay under the radar.

“Excuse me,” I say to the driver.

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