Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

Track 12

LOOK AT HER NOW

“This is the tea society?” I whisper to Lake as we settle around the hair salon with Long Island iced teas in hand.

She grins. “Isn’t it great?”

Carmella, the older woman I met at the bakery, is wearing a muumuu that reads I’ll jingle your balls. She leans over, and in a loud whisper, asks, “Want to add a shot of limoncello to your Long Island? I find it’s not sweet enough.”

Her granddaughter-in-law Belle shakes her head. “Ignore her, or you’ll be carried out of here by the firefighters.”

Jules raises her hand, her eyes dancing. “Been there, done that.”

“Only that was intentional, darling,” Carmella croons. “Shawn would carry you everywhere if he could.”

The door opens with a jingle, and Lake squeals. “Ames!”

A whoosh of cold air hits us as Amelia and Charlotte appear. Both women greet us with hugs, then pull off their heavy winter coats.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh, you’ve been invited to tea time. It’s like you’re a real Bristolian now,” Amelia says with a grin.

“I’m so confused,” I say, peering into my drink. “You all just hang out at the hair salon and drink Long Islands?”

Charlotte pours herself a glass from the pitcher by the register. “Just tea for me. But yeah, Lily”—she nods at two blond women chatting in the corner—“owns the salon. Her husband was the fire chief until he passed away a few years ago. We come here weekly for blowouts and to have a drink. It’s the perfect way to catch up.”

Throat going tight, I look back at the woman who can’t be much older than me. “He died?”

She nods. “He was older than her, but they hadn’t been married long. Their son was so young when they lost him.”

“Chief was the nicest guy,” Amelia says, her eyes glassy. “His daughter was twenty when he died, and Benji was just a baby. Breaks my heart, because he’s only a year older than my Paulie.” It’s still wild to me that Amelia and Nate have a little girl who is three.

With my heart in my throat, I ask, “How did he die?”

Lake grasps my hand and shakes her head.

Amelia presses her lips together, lowering her voice. “Fire.”

My stomach sours, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.

The idea of Declan being in real danger never occurred to me. But he’s a firefighter. His job is dangerous by design.

“He and Declan were really close,” Charlotte adds, as if she can read my mind.

It’s yet another tidbit of information that paints a clearer picture of the man I’ve fallen for. He lost a friend, then had to step into the man’s shoes. I can only imagine how difficult that was for a man like Declan, who feels so deeply.

“So we get blowouts,” Belle explains. “It’s about the only way Lily will let us help.”

“And we get to have cocktails while we do it.” Carmella holds her glass up and winks.

“Honestly, it’s my favorite hour of the week,” Lake says with a sweet smile.

Scoffing, I eye her.

She covers her mouth and lets out a giggle. “Don’t tell Ford.”

“He’d be sad if he knew hot tub time after Nash goes to bed isn’t your favorite.”

Lake’s cheeks go pink, and she shushes me, though she can’t help but laugh. She’s genuinely happy, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. She found her person. A man who loves her more than anything. She settled here, and she clearly fits in well. Before Ford, Lake was lost. Quiet. The only time she came out of her shell was on stage, but that was a persona. Here, though, with these women, in this town, she’s so free and easy.

I long for even a modicum of those feelings. Is it possible that Bristol could offer me the same refuge? Could these women be my safe place too? And could Cade and Declan see themselves sharing a life with me?

Lake leans closer, her voice low. “So how are things with the guys?”

I try hard to remain aloof, but just the thought of the two men I left to come here has my cheeks heating. Lake scoots her chair closer. “Oh my god, something happened!”

“Shh.” I look around the room but notice the only person who is paying us any attention is Carmella. A saccharine smile tugs at her lips, and she turns her head, pretending she’s not eavesdropping. “I honestly don’t even know what to say.”

She blinks slowly. “Melina Rodriguez at a loss for words? Never thought I’d see the day.”

I laugh, even though her joke hits a little too close to home. I still haven’t written a single lyric. It’s been months since I left Jason, and still, he’s got some type of hold on me. I don’t want to focus on him, though. I want to focus on the good in my life. The hope I’m clinging to since Declan first lay down in my bed and didn’t leave. The joy that radiates through me every time Cade even looks in my direction. The two men who are piecing me back together. The music will come. No man will be responsible for taking my words or giving them to me. I’ll do that work myself.

“Yes, something happened,” I finally say.

Lake’s eyes bulge. “Don’t leave me hanging. What happened? Did the chief finally give in and admit he wants you?”

“And Cade.”

“Right. Cade and Declan want you. God, what will you do? How do you choose? On the one hand, Cade is fun, and I really think you could use some fun⁠—”

“He’s not just fun. He’s sweet and vulnerable. I love how I never have to wonder what he’s thinking or what he wants. He shows me with his constant affection. Talks to me.” I’m slightly defensive of Cade, because I don’t think anyone sees what a beautiful person he truly is. He’s always been a playboy, yes, but I can see now that he was like that because he didn’t want to settle down with anyone but Declan.

“So it’s Cade, then.” Lake nods. “Makes sense. While the whole broody hero thing is hot, having a man who speaks in more than grunts is probably more your style. Besides, Declan is the chief here. How would you make that work?”

“Declan is so much more than broody.” I sigh. “He makes me feel safe. He’s thoughtful. You know he surprised me with a new journal today because I told him that Jason destroyed my old one?”

Lake pushes forward in her seat, her anger palpable. “He what?”

Ignoring her blazing stare, I twirl my straw, then take a sip of my drink. “For so long, I dated someone who tried to control me. Who hurt me. Who gaslit me into believing that if I disagreed with him—or anyone, for that matter—I was a bitch. And I let him because I wanted to be loved so badly. And now I have these two men who just—” I try to find the words as emotion gets the best of me. “They just want me to be happy. They listen when I talk. Check in with me constantly to make sure I’m okay with whatever we’re doing. They find joy in my pleasure, whether they’re involved or not. Declan bought me a freaking journal,” I say again, still feeling ripped open at the seams when I so much as think about it.

Lake inhales deeply, her eyes growing wide. “So how will you choose?”

I smile, not the least bit concerned, because I don’t have to choose, and neither do they. Though I’m unsure of whether not choosing means they actually are choosing us. Choosing this connection, this bond, even after this weekend.

“Right now, all I’m choosing is this Long Island. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

I’m two drinks deep when my phone rings. Lily hasn’t gotten to me yet, so I step outside to take the call. The cold air feels good on my heated cheeks as I slip the device from my pocket.

My heart stutters a little at the name on the screen. My mother.

“Hi, Mom⁠—”

She doesn’t let me finish the greeting before she launches into her native Portuguese.

It’s the only clue I need to know she’s upset. Her voice is high-pitched and angry. “Did you know that Jason was arrested?”

It takes me a minute to respond. A moment to come to terms with this new information. For the first time in who knows how long, I’ve made it a solid twenty-four hours without thinking of that man. Which means I spent twenty-four hours without the fear-inducing anxiety that cripples me so often.

“Arrested.” The word is said reverently. Someone believed me. My truth held meaning to enough people to make a difference, to ensure he was brought into custody and charged him with a crime. It’s…liberating.

“Yes. And after your brother drove up to Boston to bail him out, they got into a car accident.” My mother is hysterical now. Her words make little sense as she continues to wail about how my brother’s leg is broken and Jason is in a coma. “You must come home. It’s time to be with family. Your family needs you. Come home.”

I try to keep up. Truly. But I’m stuck on one detail. I can’t seem to care about the rest. “Manny bailed him out?”

Anger burns, running wild through my veins.

Any words my mother speaks are lost to me in that moment. Strangers believed me, yet my own family didn’t.

My brother bailed out the man who abused me. Who threatened me, slapped me, hurt me, and tried to rape me.

“You need to come home,” my mother wails.

I truly feel sorry for her. But not enough to ever go home.

I end the call without saying a word. My voice would be wasted on her. She doesn’t get any more of my words. None of them do.

On the sidewalk outside the salon, I survey Hope Street. From Jules’, where I’ve gone daily for donuts and coffee, to the bar I spent my first night in, down at the bottom of the road, over to the fire station, where I have book club and play poker with the guys when I drop in to visit Declan.

And if I follow the path to the water, I can walk the boardwalk to get back to his place.

Home.

The word has so many meanings, but in this moment, where I stand, it means Bristol. It means Declan and Cade. It means Lake and Ford and Nash. And maybe even the women in this salon. It means the safety and acceptance and comfort I never experienced until I came here.

And just like that, the lyrics start spinning.