Page 113 of Trouble

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 meaneverything, 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.

Declantextedme.

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 walkinto 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.

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