Page 77 of Trouble

Throwing a rag over her shoulder, she shoots me a wink and walks away. “She hates that nickname.”

I can’t help but laugh again, despite my sour mood. Shaking my head, I pick up my drink and watch her disappear into the kitchen.

The weight of Declan’s and Melina’s stares is heavy, making it almost impossible not to turn around. My position puts me directly in their view. I chose this seat on purpose. They can see me, but I can’t see them. I’m regretting that decision immensely now as I wonder what they’re doing.

Is Melina talking Declan down? Urging him not to storm out of the restaurant in anger?

Is he stewing quietly, refusing to speak?

Is she cursing me for leaving her to deal with him?

Or are they too busy flirting to even notice I’m gone?

The last one hurts the most, if I’m being honest. My entire life, I’ve been the guy who leaves because I don’t want to be the one left behind.

And despite popular belief, I’m sure, I’m not too emotionally stunted to be oblivious to it. I am, however, too stunted to do anything to change it.

My dad died when I was twelve, leaving me with a hole in my heart so big, there’s no way it can ever fully heal. He was my biggest supporter. Both of my parents, really. While I wasn’t out as bisexual at that age, I have no doubt that my dad would have been just as supportive as my mother is. When we lost him, I threw myself into hockey.It was the only thing that eased the pain.

Several years later, when Declan and I had a threesome with a girl from college and Dec practically ghosted me, I poured all my energy into figuring out why he didn’t want me and how to right our friendship again.

Shortly thereafter, it became obvious that I’d never make it to the NHL, so I walked away from the dream before it could be taken from me.

There’s no sob story there. I just wasn’t good enough. Even in my early twenties, I was self-aware enough to see it. To spot my own weaknesses. It’s why I’m a good coach. With only thirty-two teams in theNHL and only two goalies on each team, it takes a lot more than a strong work ethic and decent talent to play.

I never had anywhere near the raw talent that Brooks Langfield does, but it’s a fucking honor to be his coach.

The point is, I walked away from the competition before I got rejected.

Before I lost yet another precious part of my life, like I lost my dad and then Declan.

In all the years since, I’ve made sure to never put myself in a position where I can be hurt like that again.

Until now.

And what I’ve found myself entangled in? It’s so much worse than just about any other scenario I can come up with. Because I haven’t gotten too close to just one person, but two. And I’ve stupidly allowed a dream I’ve had for decades to play out. I’ve begun to envision a future I so desperately want but had resigned myself to never having. A future that includes Declan.

How is it that a man who barely strings three words together at a time, who’s got the personality of a cactus, has me so bent out of shape that I’d take this damn risk again?

Hope. It’s the biggest risk of them all.

I promised myself I’d skate backward down a mountain before I’d fall for this again.

And yet here I am.

“You going to drink that or just glare at it all night?” Declan asks, his tone deep and rough.

My heart lurches, but I hide the reaction. Instead, I take a page out of his book and grunt, forcing myself not to look at him as he settles on the barstool beside me. I’ve got one leg propped up on my stool and my hat turned forward and dipped down low.

Once he’s settled, I remain silent. If I speak, then I can guarantee I’ll turn to him and ask why the fuck he has to be so difficult. Why he had to go and ruin a perfectly good day.

Why I’m not good enough.

“I’m not good at this,” he says, angling toward me, his voice low.

When I don’t reply, he hooks his fingers underthe seat of my stool and drags it until I’m positioned between his thighs. Fuck. He’s so close, I can’t breathe.

“I’d really rather not do this in a bar, but if you need me to prove to you that I don’t give a fuck about your sexual orientation, then I’ll gladly make it obvious to everyone in this room that the last thing I am is turned off by your touch.”