Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
BECKETT
The car jerks to a stop with a squeal of tires. I throw my hand out, catching myself on the dash. Pierce takes a deep breath, gearing up for a string of profanity.
“I swear to god, Pierce,” I say, “if you lean on that horn, I will punch you in the face.”
He snorts, winces, and flips off the car that cut us off, but his hands clamp down at ten and two on the steering wheel, like that will hold back his drag race tendencies. This is exactly why Liam and I never let Pierce drive our cars.
I roll down the window, just a crack. The air inside the car is thick with our scents. Normally, a great thing. Right now? It’s too much. The hum of traffic seeps in and fills the dead space between us.
I glance at the crook of my elbow and peel off the Band-Aid and the little square of cotton.
The IV helped. The nausea is gone, and the world has stopped tilting under my feet.
I can actually see straight again. The dehydration was the bigger issue, apparently.
The doctor said she was surprised I hadn’t blacked out on the ice.
I didn’t tell her I wasn’t sure I hadn’t blacked out.
“What’d you eat today?” Pierce asks as we blow through a yellow light.
“Whatever, man.”
“Ah, exactly. You didn’t eat.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Pierce’s jaw twitches. “Really? Fine. That’s funny. If you were fine, they wouldn’t have hooked you up to an IV. That’s dehydration. Yes, because you don’t drink, because you forgot to eat, so you’re off your meal plan, and you think you can just power through.”
“I didn’t forget,” I say. Like I was going to stop for snacks when I was wrapped around Ash?
“You absolutely forgot, or you decided that it didn’t matter. Either way, same outcome.”
“The IV helped,” I mumble.
Pierce sighs, but there’s a softness to it. “Of course it helps. Electrolytes matter, sodium matters. You just can’t live on energy drinks and protein bars like half the team. Especially with a concussion.”
I crack my neck and wince. My muscles are already going stiff. I didn’t stretch out after the game. Or yesterday’s practice. Or today’s.
“No wonder you have a concussion.”
“The concussion isn’t from that.” I let my head thunk back against the seat and groan.
Pierce drums his fingers on the steering wheel.
“No, it’s from impact, because you started a fight that emptied the bench and got you fined. Dehydration makes recovery slower. You’re off the bench until you can skate straight again. It messes with blood volume. It screws with cognitive processing. It’s why you feel dizzy and your vision is off.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I understand the science. I don’t need a lecture.”
“I’m not lecturing you,” Pierce says.
“No, you’re being a bossy little bitch, and I didn’t ask for that.”
“I like it when you curse.” He flashes a grin.
“For fuck’s sake, Pierce.”
A horn blares right next to my open window, and it’s like an ice pick straight through my brain. I squeeze my eyes shut hoping that will kill the nausea. Pierce hands me his sunglasses. The afternoon sun is hitting us head-on. I check my phone, and immediately, my whole body softens.
Ash.
The dull thud in my head wipes away as I scroll up, rereading our conversation from this morning.
I frown. I told her I’d take her out tonight.
I said it wouldn’t be fancy, but I still want to impress her.
What’s the Nashville version of fancy-but-casual?
Barbecue? Too messy. Movies? Too boring.
I’m not taking her to play pool or to drink at any of the sports bars.
I want her to feel special, and I want to see her face.
But I need to lay low if I want to get back on the ice this season. We basically have to win every game to make it to the playoffs. I’m off the ice. Paxton is too.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, then I type:
Beckett:
So funny story. I hurt my head and I’m basically on bed rest. I can’t take you out tonight but I can order us some cake. Do you want to come over and watch a movie?
Pierce says something else about dehydration, but I’m not listening. I’m watching the little bubble, waiting for Ash to type back. The dots appear, vanish, reappear.
We pull into the driveway. The truck rocks as it settles, and I’m already unbuckling before he kills the engine. I don’t want to talk anymore. But I pause when my phone buzzes.
Ash:
Sure
I can’t help but smile as I walk up the front steps and open the door.
Liam jerks his head up, snaps his laptop shut, and stacks up all the papers he had spread out on the coffee table.
“Hey, didn’t expect you back so soon. How was your date?”
The door slams behind me.
“What date?” Pierce’s voice goes cold.
Liam’s face freezes when he realizes he just stepped in it. I didn’t tell Pierce about the date. I didn’t even want to tell Liam. And I don’t want to rehash the details right now.
Liam looks between us.
“What the fuck happened to you? Did you punch him?”
His tone’s not even accusatory. Growing up, their love language was fistfights. They told me Reed would instigate, Pierce would push it one step farther, and Liam would break it up. They would all end up with split lips and black eyes.
“Beckett’s got a concussion,” Pierce announces. He’s still standing by the door, like he’s not sure he wants to come all the way in. “And he’s severely dehydrated. They gave him an IV and a CT.”
“Yeah, okay, but what happened to your face?” Liam rounds the coffee table to get a better look at Pierce.
“Julius,” Pierce and I say together.
“And cherry meets cake…” Pierce starts, but gets interrupted by a groan as Liam checks out his nose.
Cake. I wonder where I can get yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Can I DoorDash that?
“Cherry on the cake,” Pierce resumes, slapping away Liam’s hand. “While he was getting a CT scan, he got a message from the GM. A two-game suspension and a $25,000 fine for Bugrov fight.”
Liam whistles. I cringe. Pierce would know exactly, but I think it’s my second suspension and my third fine. Ever.
“Okay, well, the fine’s not terrible. They’ll just deduct it from your pay. It’s not too bad.”
My stomach goes tight. I look between the two of them. Pierce masks his concern by being a little bitch, and Liam tries to play the cool peacekeeper.
“You get that’s like $200,000, right? It’s a two-game suspension, so I don’t get paid for two games. Plus the fine.”
“Well, your agent hasn’t called, so it’s not like you’re going to lose brand deals.”
“Didn’t you say,” I point at Pierce, “that we’re having money issues? $200,000 isn’t peanuts.”
He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.
Another buzz interrupts me.
Ash:
Are you saying that we have cake for dinner? That doesn’t sound very responsible
I actually laugh. I look at Pierce and Liam, and I’m just done for now. I turn and walk straight down the hall to Pierce’s room, grabbing the first duffel I see. I yank open his closet and start shoving clothes into it. I don’t even know what I’m pulling out.
I turn, and Pierce is in the doorway, eyes wide with panic.
“Go stay at the hotel or something,” I say. “I haven’t checked out yet.” I drop the bag at his feet. I can see it all in his eyes; he’s scared, and that’s making him all bitchy and controlling. I clench my jaw. “Or go sleep on the ratty couch at the gym.”
Pierce laughs and falls into a familiar pattern. “Don’t be mean to the couch. You love that couch. That couch loves you. You remember the last time I bent you over that couch and…”
“Pierce,” I cut him off.
He reaches for my face, fingertips grazing my jaw, but I jerk away and slide around him.
“I love you, but I just can’t look at you right now.”
Liam backs up as I make my way down the hall to the kitchen, ignoring both of them.
Behind me, the front door slams. I grip the counter with both hands.
This is what I wanted, what I asked for—distance, a second to think.
But I can’t keep the static from my brain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Liam drifting in.
He circles the island and stops on the far side, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, non-threatening. He opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle, cracks the cap, and sets Gatorade in front of me.
I won’t admit it out loud, not to Pierce, not to Liam, not even to myself, but I’m scared. I’ve had concussions before. Never like this. The protocol’s drilled into my head. Don’t sleep alone, don’t push yourself. I did both. That was fucking dumb. And then… Ash.
I close my eyes, remembering the way Ash’s hands felt on my back. Her scent all over me, the sounds she made. No, that part wasn’t dumb. That part was fucking glorious.
I open my phone and text.
Beckett:
I’ll send a car for you. Can you be ready in a half hour?
Liam’s still watching me, so I nod at the bottle.
“Thanks.”
He shrugs and leaves me too. I chug the rest of the bottle and grab my phone. My fingers scroll back to the first message I ever sent Ash.