Chapter 15 Consequences
CONSEQUENCES
ASHLEY
Iknock on the bathroom door.
Still no answer.
“Beckett?” My voice sharpens despite myself.
The shower is still running. Steam curls out from under the door. I swear I hear something—breathing? Swearing?
My chest tightens.
“Beckett,” I say again, louder now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Nothing. Just the shower running and what definitely sounds like a low, pained groan.
My heartbeat kicks into a frantic rhythm, and I knock again—hard. “If you’re hurt, you need to tell me,” I say, breath coming quicker than I want it to. “I can’t help if you don’t say something.”
Finally, the door cracks open just enough for him to peer out.
His hair is wet. His face is tight, jaw clenched. Steam billows behind him like a crime scene.
“Uh,” he says. “So… last night. After—”
Pain flashes across his face. At least I think it’s pain.
“After what?” I demand.
“I ran into Rocky,” he says quickly. “You know. One of Noah’s friends.”
“I know who Rocky is,” I snap. “Are you having a heart attack? Did you hit your head? Did you eat something bad?”
He blinks. “What? No.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
He winces, glancing away, and then reluctantly back at me. “There was a lot of whiskey involved.”
“I am aware you’re hungover,” I say flatly. “But you screamed, Beckett.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“You totally screamed.”
He exhales, scrubs a hand over his face. “Maybe. Anyway… Apparently, there’s a tattoo shop on board.”
I stare at him.
“What?”
His eyes squeeze shut like he’s bracing for impact. “A tremendous amount of whiskey was involved.”
I let out a slow breath.
Oh.
So he’s not dying.
He’s just an idiot.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Is it huge? Is it crooked? Embarrassing? Where is it?”
“All of those are excellent questions,” he mutters.
Images flash through my brain—dragons, daggers, something misspelled in cursive across his ribs—
“Does it hurt?” I ask. “What did you get?”
He scrubs a hand over his face again. “It’s fine. I just… forgot about it.”
I stare at him.
“And that’s why you screamed?”
“I didn’t scream.”
I just raise my brows at that.
His jaw flexes.
“Well? Are you going to show it to me?” I ask.
“... Maybe later.”
And there it is. A clean line drawn between what we were and what we are.
Not my business.
He may have given me my reasons, but ultimately, I’m the one who ended this. I’m the one who asked him to leave.
So why does my stomach pull tight? Why does it feel… wrong… that he’s done something to the body I know better than my own—held, memorized, claimed—and now I don’t have the right to see it?
“What did you do?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
I reach for the door, but he just narrows the gap even further. “Tell the boys I’ll be there right after my shower.”
“Wait,” I say. “Should you be getting it wet? Do you need bandages? Ointment? I brought a first-aid kit.”
He just… stares at me. Or maybe through me.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing, it’s just—the waterslide,” he says. “I can’t take Blakey down it like I said I would.” He tightens his jaw, and I know that look. He’s mad at himself. “No pools. No slides. No…”
I fill in the rest. “No snorkeling. Beckett.” I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in through my nostrils. “We’re on a cruise. What were you thinking? Do you even have the aftercare instructions?”
“Rocky probably has those.”
“Rocky,” I mutter, because of course. I exhale. “I just… this isn’t like you.” Is this some sort of midlife crisis?
He pauses. His shoulders sag.
And the look he gives me—God. It nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.
“After we talked. I don’t know. I just felt like I had to do—something.”
We talked. He doesn’t have to spell it out.
My throat tightens. I turn away, fixing my gaze on the dresser, the mirror, anything that isn’t his face.
Because I didn’t mean it the way he heard it.
But I can’t take those words back.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s small. Inadequate. All I have.
“Me too.” His voice is rough.
I hate seeing him like this, because it plants a seed of doubt in me.
He isn’t arguing. He isn’t trying to fix it. He’s just… being honest.
Like he’s still absorbing it. And I can’t right now…
“Well,” I say finally, swallowing hard. “What’s done is done.” I gesture toward the closet, pretending we’re still talking about the tattoo. “The first aid kit’s in my suitcase.”
I move before he can say anything else.
Right now, leaving is the only way I know how to breathe.
But when I reach for my laptop, Beckett’s phone—left on the desk—lights up with an incoming message.
Unknown Number:
Rec’d your email from Kemper to bypass PIPE Lock-up restrictions. To make the deal stick Candy wants more.
I read it twice.
I don’t know what lock-up restrictions are. PIPEs, I know, are some kind of investment. But… what deal? Of what? And who is Candy? Maybe it’s just financial language I don’t understand? Probably?
I set the phone back where I found it, my hand unsteady. “You know where the boys will be?” I call toward the bathroom, aiming for normal.
“By the kids’ water pad,” Beckett answers.
“Right. Okay.”
I slip into the hallway and let the door click shut behind me. Then I take my phone out and search Finance PIPES.
The first result is a basic definition: Private Investments in Public Equity.
I kind of remember that… but… I key in: lock up restrictions PIPE
And that’s when my heart just kind of drops. Because the results list all kinds of red flags. Securities fraud, market manipulation. Insider trading…
What is Beckett involved in?
But then my phone buzzes, reminding me that I’m supposed to be meeting with Moira right now. And I'm late.
Even if I had time to ask Beckett about this right now, I’m pretty sure he wouldn't give me any answers. And… It’s probably nothing, right?
I shove my phone into my pocket and shift gears to the wedding rehearsal details I need to iron out today. And yet, I can’t leave the unease behind.
Heaviness, but also disorientation.
Like I’m missing something. And maybe I’m going about this all wrong.
Because I know I hurt him.
But he hurt me first. And I can’t erase months of distance just because he’s here now, finally, acting like he wants to work things out.
Can I?