Chapter 23 Finley
Finley
I take one last look in the mirror at my outfit, trying to refrain from rolling my eyes at the brown cowboy boots and slinky blue top Charlotte had delivered to my apartment. According to her, “You can’t wear Yeti gear to a Jaxon Steele concert.”
Trust me, as a huge Steelie, I’m well aware of that. I just don’t happen to own anything other than Yeti gear and power suits.
I touch up my mascara one last time before determining I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Throwing on a coat—she can’t protest a Yeti coat—I head out.
“Hey,” I say, drawing up short as Beckett steps into the hall at the same time as I do. He’s wearing blue jeans and a Henley, and damn. He looks good.
I shove the sound of him coming, my name slipping from his lips, from my mind.
I can feel the light flutter of his gaze as he takes me in as well. “Hey,” he replies, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Where are you off to, all dressed up?”
His eyes are piercing as he waits for my answer, but all I can think about is whether he’s going to tell me I look beautiful again.
“I’m going with Charlotte to the Jaxon Steele concert. I thought I told you?”
We’ve hung out—watched film a few times together since the incident I can only think of as masturgate, and things are surprisingly uncomplicated. Even if we both know what we did, we don’t talk about it. And if God loves me at all, we never will.
He shakes his head, a pleased smile creeping across his face. “You didn’t mention that. Just said you were busy tonight.”
“Ah. Where are you going?” I ask. It could be a date. He sure smells like he’s going on a date. Some clean and masculine cologne floats between us, trying to convince me to make bad decisions. I can guarantee it will be a feature in my fantasies this evening.
“The Jaxon Steele concert,” Beckett replies, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Are you… You’re not… What?”
“Jameson Walker invited Callan and me, plus a few other guys he knows in town, I guess.”
I can feel confusion and amusement warring on my face.
“Wow. Invited the whole Yeti Challenge team except me. Rude, Jameson.” I’m teasing, but the old hurt of never quite being a part of the team comes back in full force.
It was better in college, when I was playing on the women’s team, but in high school, I was always an afterthought.
The girl who changed in a closet down the hall.
The one who didn’t know the inside jokes.
I shake off the thought. I moved on from that a long time ago.
My phone buzzes in my hand, Charlotte letting me know she’s here. “Well, I should…” I nod toward the elevator.
“Do you want a ride?” Beckett asks. “I was planning to drive.”
I shake my head. “No, but you should jump in with Charlotte and me. No need to navigate traffic and parking.”
“I mean, if you’re sure it’s okay?” Beckett asks.
“Definitely. You know Charlotte: more is always merrier with her.”
The elevator arrives, and I catch the hint of a scowl on Kane’s face as he walks in.
“You okay?” I ask, our arms brushing as I face the front of the elevator. Instead of letting myself sink into the warmth, I subtly shift so we aren’t touching.
“What do you mean?”
“You grimaced when you started walking.”
He crosses his arms, shooting me a quick smile. “I did? I think you’re seeing things.”
“Are you sure? You took a hard hit the other night.”
“I’m fine,” he says, not quite curt, but definitely leaving no room for further questions.
We ride in silence for a moment before I ask, “So, is Jameson a big Jaxon Steele fan or something?”
“According to Callan, Jameson’s sister-in-law dates Steele, or is friends with him. Something like that.”
“What?! That’s so cool! Dang, you’re so fancy,” I tease.
The smile he gives me feels real this time, so I lean into it, continuing to joke with him as we make our way through the lobby.
When we climb into the back of the black SUV with Charlotte, I squeeze into the middle, Beckett’s side fully pressed into mine.
It’s glorious, and I can’t decide whether I want to take this opportunity to lean into him further or to force myself to maintain an appropriate distance.
“Well, this is a fun surprise.” Charlotte’s eyes dance with undisguised glee as she takes in Beckett. “You’re looking fine tonight, Kane. Must be getting good sleep lately.”
I want to murder her. I knew I shouldn’t have told Charlotte about the hotel room, but I was feeling so guilty about masturgate that I needed someone to talk to.
Someone I knew would tell me I was overreacting.
I still feel a deep need to confess that I overstepped a boundary, but Charlotte convinced me that what I do in the confines of my own mind can’t be used against me.
Her actual words were, “If players got in trouble every time they picked you from the ol’ spank bank when they were alone in a hotel room, there wouldn’t be anyone left on the team, so I think you’re safe. ”
Unfortunately, I’ve always had what Charlotte calls an overactive guilt complex that causes me to confess to any minor infraction.
Though I don’t think it’s overreacting. I just believe rules exist for a reason.
That if you make a mistake, you need to confess and make amends.
It’s literally the backbone of my push for a culture of accountability.
But I can’t disagree that masturbating, alone, in my hotel room, technically isn’t against any policies.
Instead of commenting on the sleep comment, Beckett tips his head in acknowledgment. “And you look lovely as always.”
“And we both know Finley looks like a snack,” Charlotte says, clearly enjoying her ability to stir shit.
“Charlotte!” I exclaim, my cheeks starting to burn.
It feels like the vehicle has become an MRI machine, Beckett’s gaze scanning me, millimeter by millimeter. Finally, in a voice deeper than I’ve ever heard from him in the day, he agrees. “We do.”
Charlotte asks Beckett how he ended up with an invite tonight, and when she learns he’s in a suite with Jameson Walker and his family, her excitement kicks up a notch.
Apparently, Charlotte met Jameson’s sister through work, and now they’re the type of friends who get a drink whenever Lila happens to be in Denver.
“So, I guess you’re stuck with us all night!” Charlotte exclaims.
“Wait, what?” I ask, as Beckett’s arm tenses, his hard muscles a wall against mine.
“Lila asked me to join them,” Charlotte says again, like she’s not shaking my entire world, even though she totally knows she is.
“Lila took the night off from work so she could hang out with us since I told her I wouldn’t be working, either.
It should be so much fun. Plus, everyone in the box will be a professional athlete, seriously dating one, or related to one in some way, so it should be pretty low stress. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You have a different definition of low stress than I do.” I had big plans to scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs for two hours straight from the safety of Charlotte’s family’s box.
We pull up to the side of the arena, one not open to the public, but it also isn’t the player entrance we typically use, and I realize what this odd feeling in my gut must be—I’m never here when the floor isn’t ice.
The arena hosts all of Denver’s professional hockey and basketball games as well as the big concerts and other events that Charlotte and her team put on, but if it’s not a game day, I’m not in the main part of the building. Just the practice facility.
We climb out of the car, and Charlotte pulls a badge from her purse.
She scans it to open a side door, and we make our way through what is apparently the most VIP entrance.
Beckett’s fingers brush mine as we walk, and instead of stepping further away, I just let myself have the moment; hope and excitement filling my chest as I anticipate the next swing of our arms, the next contact made.
The backs of our fingers meet again, and it’s all I can do to keep my face straight, my steps unfaltering, because I know it means he chose not to move away.
At the thought, my traitorous mind conjures images of what tonight could be, if only he weren’t my player.
Holding hands as we make this walk, our fingers intertwined.
Laughing, his arm around my shoulders, as we mingle with our friends.
Listening to love songs with Beckett’s arms wrapped around me from behind, engulfing me with his size and heat.
I’d lean my head against his chest, singing along as we gently sway to the music of my absolute favorite singer.
“Here we are,” Charlotte announces excitedly as she scans a ticket at the door before handing a second one to me. “In case you need to leave for anything.”
I tuck it into my pocket as Beckett holds the door to the suite open for both of us. It’s fairly crowded inside, and Charlotte pushes her way forward, quickly finding her friend and giving her a big hug.
“Callan is waving at you.” I nod toward the man. Beckett looks around, finding the men who invited him here.
“Go,” I say when he seems hesitant to leave. He looks between us again, so I reiterate, “Go. Really. I’m good. I’m at a Jaxon Steele concert! Literally nothing could stop this from being the best night of my life.”
Beckett chuckles as he finally walks away, and I slip into the corner, content to watch the flow of people around me.
Beckett is talking to Callan and Jameson, and even though I can only see half of his face, it’s clear he enjoys their company.
There’s a wide smile crossing his face, and his shoulders are relaxed.
It’s Night Beckett. The man I spend my time with on a couch watching game film, not the professional hockey player who is laser-focused on his goals.
I’m still staring at Beckett when Charlotte joins me, leaning against the wall in a mirror of my posture. Her gaze follows mine, and she lets out a sigh. “The online world is rooting for you two.”