Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Sloan
Present
I’m making mine and Quinn’s iced lattes before the morning crowd rolls in to WaggingWithWords. The bell chimes earlier than I would have expected, startling me.
It’s so much quieter around here without Sutton and August. Sutton always had music playing or August sat on the stage and played for everyone. The bell seems so much louder without those sounds drowning it out.
The sound startles me so much that I accidentally uppercut my entire 32 oz iced latte all over Beck. I mean… All. Over. Him.
Iced coffee is dripping down his light blue T-shirt, soaking his gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination.
I gasp in embarrassment, tearing my eyes from his very well-endowed package only to find myself staring at his chest. A very well-defined and carved from stone muscular frame that’s on display thanks to the coffee.
“Damn, looks like those classes are paying off, Little Dove.” Beck lets out a halfhearted chuckle.
I notice that he’s sort of stumbling with his dog, Mayhem by his side.
“Beck, why do you smell like whiskey at eight in the morning on a Saturday? Especially during your training season?” I question him. My eyes still not quite leaving his chest.
“I think I actually smell like coffee now,” Beck retorts sarcastically.
Mayhem makes a groaning sound as he lays down next to where Beck’s standing. He looks just as concerned for his dad, as I do. The poor guy looks like his heart was put through a blender. And don’t get me started on his face.
Holy shit.
His left eye is almost completely swollen shut. He has a fresh cut on a fat lip.
“What the hell happened to your face?” I gasp.
“Yeah, Beck. Why don’t you tell Sloan why your face looks like someone used it for a punching bag?” Asher chimes in mockingly, coming up behind Beck.
“Solid uppercut, Sloan,” Asher explains, breaking out in a small smirk.
Beck groans, “Can you two not talk so loudly? Fuck.”
“What the hell happened to your face? And your clothes?” Quinn chokes out, walking up to the counter from the kitchen.
“Sloan accidentally punched the hell out of that coffee right into Beck’s chest,” Ash chuckles.
“Will all of you please keep it down!” Beck groans again, covering his ears.
“Ash. What. The. Hell.” Quinn snaps.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do that to his pretty face,” Ash says, almost chuckling as he puts his hands up.
“You didn’t stop who did though either,” Beck grumbles.
“Man, you were literally begging that guy to hit you. You were being an asshat. Trying to start a fight. I wasn’t getting in the middle,” Ash declares, shaking his head.
“Why were you trying to…?” Quinn starts to question.
“Because of Sutton?” I ask timidly.
Beck looks so defeated. The pain radiating from him penetrates my heart as I gaze into his ocean blue eye.
“Beck, Sut still cares about you. You can’t go around starting fights just because she left. She’d be so pissed at you right now,” Quinn reprimands him.
“Well, she isn’t exactly here right now. Is she Quinn?” Beck spits back.
“I’ve always said love is a cancer like it could kill a person faster,” I mumble, attempting to wipe up some of the coffee.
“Damn. That’s dark,” Quinn murmurs, eyes a little wide.
“Sounds like some shit the musician would say,” Beck mutters.
“Beck, you should get some ice on that eye and that lip. How’s your vision?
Any headaches? Dizziness? Think you might have a concussion?
” I instinctually go into nurse mode, rattling off questions, before I realize they don’t know I’m a nurse.
Was a nurse. Almost a nurse practitioner.
I would’ve graduated in three months before I ran.
My heart breaks the slightest bit at the reminder.
“Sorry. My ex… Never mind. Just make sure if you have any of those symptoms you go to the hospital and get checked out,” I ramble before tossing the washcloth on the counter, turning and heading toward the kitchen.
“Let me go grab some ice from the freezer,” Quinn offers, following behind me.
I flinch when she comes into the kitchen. Guarded and waiting for her to start questioning me.
“Gosh, Sut would be soooo pissed if she saw him right now. I don’t even think we should tell her. I think she’d feel guilty and it would ruin the tour for her. What do you think?” Quinn asks.
“Yeah, I would say we leave this little detail out for now. At least maybe until she gets back,” I say, shrugging. Relieved she isn’t questioning me.
“Yeah, good idea. I understand Beck’s upset, but he also needs to get his temper under control. This was part of the problem for Sut. He has like two modes, totally in command and just rage-filled,” Quinn says, shaking her head in disappointment.
“I’ll try and talk to him. Beck’s been opening up some while we train at the gym. I think he loves her, but I don’t think he loves her the way he thinks he does. Let’s just hope Beck can get his feelings under control sooner rather than later before he ruins his career,” I murmur.
Walking back out into the café, I hand Beck some ice wrapped in a wash cloth.
“Put this on your eye for no longer than 20 minute intervals. You can do that three times today. Try to get that swelling down. If you get dizzy or start to lose vision in that eye, please go to the emergency room,” I offer, squeezing his hand gently.
“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes me and tries to wink with his eye that isn’t almost swollen shut.
“Get out of here before you scare the customers away, Beckett. Oh, and stop starting fights. You’re better than that,” I scold him and gently shove him toward the door.
Beck reacts dramatically, acting like I threw him out of here even though I barely touched him.
He stops right before pushing the door open, smiling as he says, “Thanks for the ice, Little Dove. Try not to punch anymore coffee on anyone today.”
“I’ll try not to punch coffees if you try not to punch faces,” I chuckle.
“Deal.” Beck nods and heads out.