Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
LIAM
I pick at my thumbnail as I watch the photographer circle Beckett and Ash, who is trying and mostly succeeding at being chill. He’s not bad, but give it another minute and Beckett is going to catch on that someone has been following him since he walked out of the planetarium.
This is a risk, and I’m only going to feel slightly guilty about texting Chantel about a possible photo op.
The gossip rags are going to go one of two ways.
Either question his injury and do op-eds on how he’s letting down the team.
Or, the one I have my fingers crossed for, ‘look how cute the big golden retriever hockey star is with the gorgeous little omega.’
And they are fucking cute. Laughing and giggling and canoodling through all the exhibits at the Science Center.
The way Ash’s hair falls into her face and down her back, the goofy space-themed sunglasses Beckett insisted on buying her that she won’t take off.
Beckett digging for fossils in the dinosaur exhibit with kids crawling all over him was picture perfect.
Chantel will probably kick this to the team’s publicist. The amount of “love is in the air” puff pieces that have come out this season from Marilyn is staggering.
As we step into the next exhibit, Beckett picks up on the photog. I’m pretty sure he’s a beta, so it shouldn’t set Beckett off if he’s going to get all protective about his girlfriend.
Shit, is she his girlfriend?
Ash is the one who insisted that I come with them, so I only feel mildly shitty about being a third wheel.
Beckett watches the guy back off and retreat toward the entrance, but it doesn’t seem to put a damper on his mood.
He catches my eye and smiles, winks at me.
He breaks off from Ash, who is inspecting a giant light board with multi-colored pegs.
Kids are running everywhere, and she side steps them like they carry the plague.
I check the museum map. This is some sort of physics of light exhibit.
“That was paparazzi, wasn’t it?” Beckett asks, throwing an arm over my shoulder and leaning his weight on me. I instantly relax. Beckett has always been touchy-feely, but all the tension between us has made him pretty standoffish lately. I hadn’t noticed how much it affected me.
The realization hits me in the gut and then gets double tapped knowing it’s probably like that for Ash too.
I’m watching her glide around the exhibit, making sure there’s a buffer around her at all times.
But she leans into Beckett, brushes against him, and is never more than an arm’s length away. Must just be Beckett.
“Chantel said she’s going to stop telling me when she sends someone to take my pic. She says I get all weird when I’m in the spotlight,” he says.
“You do.”
“I do not.”
I glance nervously at Beckett and bite my lip. “We want to try to change the narrative.”
“Let me guess. It’s the Three Alphas and a Ball podcast. They hate me.”
“They hate the Scorpions.”
“They are probably going to say I’m tanking the team and faking an injury just for a snow day.”
“A snow day?”
“You know, a snow day.”
“Becks, I’m from Florida. It snowed once for ten minutes when I was like five.”
“Oh, right.” He pulls me along as we follow Ash. She sidesteps all the kids playing with the light board and moves on to a giant wall-sized tablet. “Maybe that’s why Ash and Pierce are so grumpy. They don’t have that core memory of no rules and being able to do whatever you want.”
“What? I’m not grumpy?” I ask laughing, not wanting to be left out.
“No. You’re just serious. And controlling.”
“Controlling?” I stop dead, which forces Beckett to stop too.
“Yeah. You get anxious and then you bust out the label maker and weigh out little baggies of high-protein snacks. You organize the linen closet by color because you don’t want to sound bossy and tell Pierce or me what to do. And then you go buy throw pillows. It’s adorable really.”
“That’s not controlling.” I grumble as he pulls me forward. “That’s just liking things in order.”
“Where are my keys?” There’s a note of laughter in his voice.
“What?”
“When you and Ash got back from the supermarket, I was tearing up the kitchen looking for my keys.”
I opened my mouth and shut it as my face flames.
“You don’t want me to drive because of the concussion, so you hid my keys.”
I slide them out of my pocket and offer them to Beckett.
“See? You’re busted and embarrassed, and it’s cute.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“I know.”
He squeezes the back of my neck and pulls me closer.
Beckett is so fucking generous with his feelings that it makes me feel like dog shit sometimes.
We follow a ramp down to a sunken area of the exhibit where Ash is standing in front of a wall-sized display.
It’s noticeably warmer. I regret that we didn’t check our coats.
Ash tentatively sticks her hand out to touch the screen, but color and light erupt before she even makes contact.
The afterimage of her hand lingers on the glass, a shadow that stains in pastel shades for a moment before fading away.
She startles a little, then tries again, slower, almost like she’s not sure if she should. Or maybe she’s just testing it.
She sweeps her palm through the air and a wider band appears, a trailing band of color follows her. The color shifts as she rotates her wrist. It looks accidental and deliberate at the same time, with these soft pastel trails blooming where she moves.
For a long second, she just stands there, moving her hand in lazy figure-eights, watching the color billow up then drain away.
She tilts her head and reaches out again, this time with her fingers splayed and closer to the surface of the wall.
The intensity of the colors change. She turns her head, and I can see a smile spread across her lips.
My breath catches. She’s beautiful like this, unguarded and focused.
Maybe Beckett feels it too, because he lets out the smallest happy sound.
His hand is still on my neck, connecting us in the moment.
She strips off her jacket and lets it fall forgotten to the floor, giving her both hands to use.
She starts mapping out shapes, spirals, arcs, then long slashes with no hesitation.
An abstract seascape or mountain range emerges on the wall.
She adds to it, morphs it when the effects fade.
I stand there, watching her draw with light and air and distance, watching the color follow her, trying to keep up.
Beckett, beside me, is quiet too, like we’re both lost to the vision she’s creating.
Then a kid sprints up. I can barely hear him babble something like “that’s ugly,” and wiggle his fat little fingers between Ash and the wall. The screen reacts instantly and puts gouges of neon blue in her softly-blended slopes, overwriting her masterpiece.
She visibly slumps, and the movement takes her right to the floor to pick up her coat and jam her arms into the sleeves.
Her entire demeanor changes as she shrinks back into herself, and it’s a gut punch. Beckett feels it too.
She looks up at us and smiles, but it feels flat and practiced. From the corner of my eye, I can see Beckett’s face is tight, lined with confusion, like he’s never seen someone’s spirit get crushed before.
I have. A lot. With my siblings, and with neighborhood kids whose parents should have never been allowed to reproduce. With Pierce, with Reed, with Reed’s baby sister. With every kid who grew up in shitty circumstances. With me even.
Maybe Beckett senses the rage flowing over me, or maybe he sees what I see.
It adds to his confusion. She has her arms jammed deep in her pockets, and her smile is plastered on.
She swipes her fingers through her bangs like she’s not used to hair in her face.
There’s something familiar and upsetting about that.
It reminds me of when Reed’s baby sister cut her own hair and absolutely melted down about it.
Reed had fixed it as best he could, and we spent weeks hyping her up about how cute she looked.
Just as Ash reaches us, a mother with a gaggle of kids cuts her off. Ash shrinks back when their arms brush.
“Mr. Hansen, could we get a picture? The kids just love you and my alphas are just going to die. Milo is your biggest fan.” She’s beaming, clutching her phone to her chest and completely missing Ash’s recoil.
“Of course.” Beckett gives my neck a final squeeze as he steps over toward the Adventure Science Center signage. He cups Ash’s cheek for a brief second.
She comes to stand beside me as we watch the chaos ensue.
I put my hand on her back to guide her closer to the exit.
She doesn’t shrug me off and I just about die.
Strangers touching her is bad. Beckett touching her is great.
Me? She tolerates. I drop my hand after a moment, not because I want to, but because I’m not sure she’d welcome the touch.
She shifts her weight so that her arm is brushing mine.
I know it’s crazy and not possible, but I feel her body heat seep into me.
“Does this happen a lot?” Ash nods at the omega who is standing on tiptoes with one arm stretched all the way out, trying to get a good selfie angle. I feel her stiffen when the omega puts her arm around Beckett’s waist.
“Often enough. More so during the season when the team is in the news.”
Beckett finishes up, with autographs and ruffling a kid’s hair. He comes back to us with bright eyes that make you completely ignore the remnants of his black eyes.
“I’m starving. Let’s go cook those steaks you bought.” He wiggles his fingers for Ash and takes her hand, pulling her forward. She looks over her shoulder to make sure I’m coming too.