21. Chapter 20 #2
And then, as the noise fades, we're left with just me supervising this idiot on the outside of a chain-link cage.
Beck is sitting on the inside, his fingers hooked through the wire. Somehow, he's still close enough that I can smell the cologne that's ruined my ability to concentrate in every staff meeting since I ruined my life by recommending we trade this absolute wreck of a man.
"So," he says. "Alone at last. If you want something to watch while you're standing there, I could—"
"Don't even think about it. We're in the middle of a public event."
"Semi-alone. There's a fence between us. Very romantic. Very prison-movie. Some people are into that stuff, you know." He tilts his head to study me. "You look like you haven't slept. Everything okay?"
"I've slept."
He watches me through the wire, and the performance drains out of his face the way it only does for me. "Still stuck on the report?"
"Yes," I confirm. "The meeting's tomorrow. At your house, actually, which is a fun detail nobody consulted me on. I assume you'll be there? And that Diego will be making pancakes?"
"Oh yeah. He'll make the good ones. Blueberry.
We all know nobody gets traded on blueberry pancakes.
" He wraps his fingers tighter through the fence.
"Well, in the interest of full disclosure, do you want me to bring you up to date with what happened in my meeting?
You know, so you have all the details you need to finalize your report. "
"Beck—"
"No, listen. Everybody in my life keeps things from me to protect me, and I'm not doing that to you.
Ever. So here it is." He takes a breath.
"Philip called this morning. Vegas sent the full offer.
It's real, it's big, and they want an answer by the deadline.
They want me, Darcy. Face of the franchise. Billboards. The whole thing."
The Yard keeps happening around us, with music, laughter, and a kid screaming about too many sprinkles, like there's such a thing.
Meanwhile, I stand here holding a padlock key while the ground quietly tilts beneath me.
"That's—" I swallow. "That's everything you wanted."
"Yeah. I guess." His eyes don't leave mine. "So. Question for you." His fingers curl through the chain-link between us. "And I'm not asking the analyst, because I've heard enough from her to last me several lifetimes."
"She's very thorough."
"She's terrifying. Great ass, though." His grin fades, and those blue eyes settle on mine again. "What do you think about me going to Vegas?"
I stare at him.
There are approximately four thousand ways I could answer that question professionally. I could talk about ice time and development opportunities. The role they're offering him. The fact that Vegas clearly sees value in areas the Bears have spent weeks questioning.
So naturally, that's where my brain goes.
"Well, from a career perspective, you'd probably get more minutes. And if they're genuinely offering you a first-line role, you'd have an opportunity to—"
"Darce." He groans as his forehead drops against the fence. "You brought the analyst."
"You asked what I thought."
"Exactly. I asked what you thought."
"That is what I think."
"No, that's what your laptop thinks." He lifts his head again. "I know what the Bears need. I know what Vegas wants. I know what my brothers think because they've been sharing their opinions with me since approximately birth." His gaze holds mine through the wire. "I'm asking my girlfriend."
Girlfriend?
Has Beck simply decided this is what I am now?
Apparently my heart is far too busy exploding to lodge any form of objection.
"What do you want, Darcy?"
My mouth opens, but nothing useful comes out.
Because nobody asks me questions like that.
My parents ask what the sensible option is. Colin asks what the data supports. Teachers asked what college I was applying to while boyfriends asked whether I'd considered moving closer to their office.
My mother even once asked which of two nearly identical shades of ivory I preferred for a charity luncheon. Before choosing the other one anyway.
But what do I want?
"I don't want you to go."
The words almost get swallowed by the music and somebody announcing half-price churros behind me.
But Beck hears them.
His fingers stop moving against the fence.
"I know that's incredibly selfish." I look down at the padlock between us because suddenly looking at him feels impossible.
"Vegas is offering you everything you've been asking for, and after everything you've said about wanting the chance to find out who you are without your brothers, I don't have the right to stand here and tell you not to take it. "
"Darcy..."
"But I don't want you to go," I say again, stronger this time. "There. That's what I want."
When I finally look up, something has changed in his face.
"Okay," he says softly.
My heart squeezes. "Okay?"
"Yeah." One corner of his mouth lifts. "Turns out I really like hearing what Darcy Madden wants. We should try this more often."
I laugh, and his smile grows, but only for a second.
"Now tell me about the report."
And just like that, my stomach drops back onto the concrete.
"Well… I think I'm reversing my recommendation."
His eyebrows lift.
"The original data was incomplete," I continue, because this part I can explain.
"It didn't properly account for the hits you absorb or the space you create.
It doesn't measure what happens to the energy of the line when you're not there, and after Vegas...
" I shake my head. "When I watched Bailey try to fill your spot, Beck.
He couldn't. The entire structure changed without you. "
"Okay."
"That's all you're going to say?"
"Nope." His hands tighten around the wire. "But I'm also going to say something you're probably going to hate."
"Wonderful."
"Tomorrow, when you put that report on the table, I need you to forget what you just told me."
I stare at him like he's suddenly speaking another language. "What?"
"Not forever. I'm planning to be extremely annoying about that later." His expression softens. "But when you're writing about me? When you finally hand that report over… I need you to forget you're scared I'm going to leave."
"Beck, that's not why I'm changing it."
"Good. Then you've got nothing to worry about."
He says it so simply I want to reach through the fence and shake him.
"But you know what I don't want?" he continues. "I don't want you changing one number because you think it'll keep me here. Not one sentence. You're too smart, too clever for that."
"And if I look at everything again tonight and still think trading you is the right decision?"
His eyes fall, and there is that tiny flicker of hurt he can't hide quickly enough.
"Then recommend they trade me."
For a moment, I genuinely forget about the people surrounding us.
"Beck..."
"I'm serious." His fingers push farther through the fence until I instinctively reach for them.
He catches my hand, threading our fingers together awkwardly through the wire.
"You don't owe me a roster spot because you love me.
And I sure as hell don't want you blowing up your career because you're scared I'll disappear if you tell the truth. "
I squeeze his fingers.
"So do the work," he says. "Do it the way you would've done it before I came along and ruined your perfectly organized life with my excellent personality and unusually powerful sexual presence."
A laugh bursts out of me as his thumb brushes mine through the fence.
"Look at everything, Darce. Decide what you actually believe. Then walk into that meeting tomorrow and tell them."
"And if I'm wrong?"
His eyes hold mine.
"Then you're wrong." He grins. "But guess what? You can make the mistake. The earth keeps spinning, Spreadsheet."
My eyes burn.
Of course this ridiculous man would make the thing I've been terrified of my entire life sound that simple.
Thankfully, before I burst into tears, Rico's voice suddenly detonates across The Yard.
"MORRISON! TIMES UP! SALSA CHALLENGE! ROUND EIGHTEEN! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"
Beck closes his eyes. "Christ. That man is going to kill me before Colin gets the chance."
I pull the key from my pocket and hold it up.
"Want me to let you out?"
His grin finally returns.
"Depends. Is this an official management decision?"
"Don't push it."
I unlock the cage, and when Beck steps out, he simply takes my hand.
Then we walk toward Rico's taco truck together.