Page 80 of Trouble
I startle at Declan’s command, even as Mel laces her fingers with mine and guides me toward his room.
“He needs a few minutes to himself,” she tells me as we approach Dec’s bedroom, once again proving my theory.
“Oh yeah? And what are we going to do while he does that?” I tease, trying to relax.
Mel glances back at me with a wicked smile. “Whatever we want.”
I pause at the threshold. I’ve never been inside his bedroom before. Walking into his personal space now feels like a monumental feat.
Mel doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even slow. Of course, she’s probably already been in here.
Has she slept beside him in this bed?
I take in the king-size bed. Is it possible that it’s bigger than a king? I swear it’s larger than my bed at home. The dark navy comforter is folded down and made as if a drill sergeant inspected the room this morning.
A gray lamp sits on each dark-wood nightstand flanking the mattress. The ornate headboard is a dark wood as well. Above it, a large picture of the Mount Hope Bridge at night, lit up in red, white, and blue—as it always is on the Fourth of July in Bristol—hangs.
Finally stepping into the room, I head straight for the picture window. Outside, the yard is well-manicured, with a large arborvitae separating it from the water, allowing for complete privacy.
As I take in the scene, one Declan must see every night, I take a long breath in and let it out, feeling my nerves settling.
My mind turns to the many nights we’ve sat in that backyard at the teak table, or around the fire pit, beers in hand, bullshitting. I guess I’m the one typically doing the bullshitting. Declan’s additions to the conversations typically involve grunting in acknowledgment of something I’ve said.
What is it about him that made me fall so hard?
There’s no explanation for the way my heart picks up the minute he walks into a room. The way my eyes search for him when I know he’s near. How I breathe easier when I’m in this town, in this house, in his proximity.
But that’s not giving him enough credit.
Declan showed up at my house the night my dad died and never left.Physically, he went home, of course—though he often stayed all night. But even then, I knew he was only a phone call away. That he’d show up in a heartbeat if I needed him.
That’s always been Declan.
He’s the steady one. The strong one. My rock.
I startle when slender arms wrap around my waist and squeeze.
“Shower is warm.” Mel presses a kiss to the space between my shoulder blades.
I spin and take her cheeks in my hands. “You are perfect, you know that?”
Head tipped back, she gives me a knowing smile. “No one’s perfect, Cade.”
Angling closer, I press my lips to hers. When I pull back, I keep my focus locked on her eyes. “You are. For us. You always know what we need. Space for Declan, time for me. Your hugs. You just…” My throat goes thick with emotion, making it nearly impossible to get the words out.
She blinks up at me, patient, not rushing me or filling the silence.
“You complete us,” I breathe out. “Tonight wouldn’t be happening if not for you.”
Mel slides her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m with the two of you. Maybe it’s selfish, wanting you both?—”
Shaking my head, I slide a thumb along her cheek, relishing the smoothness of her skin. “No more selfish than me wanting you both. Can you feel the way I’m shaking? My body is vibrating with want, knowing he’s on the other side of that wall. We need him. And I’m okay with admitting that.”
“Just remember, this is a big step for him,” she reminds me. “He cares so deeply for you, but he’s going to get things wrong.”
Like earlier. That’s what she’s referring to. How we handled the fight in the bar. How I lashed out at him for not being ready.
My insecurities got the best of me, and I projected. It was unfair of me, but the idea that he was embarrassed by us hurt.