Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Sloan
Beck has been a bear to deal with since we got back from Vegas a couple weeks ago.
Eventually he did apologize for his dickish behavior.
After he was discharged from the hospital, the three of us stayed two extra days in Vegas cooped up in one hotel room until Beck wasn’t having dizzy spells and nausea anymore.
Usually, I wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a room with a man, let alone two. Two very fit men who could break me in half, except I’ve never really felt safer. Watching them lay in the same bed so I could have my own is probably the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I giggle just thinking about it.
“Ash, you wanna be my big spoon?” Beck chuckles and then groans.
“Awwww, does chuckling make your head hurt, punk?” Asher grits out, trying to stretch out without touching Beck.
“Remind me again why the fuck we’re sharing a room when you make so much money?” Asher asks, shoving a pillow between him and Beck.
“Well since I lost this last fight and won’t be fighting anytime soon. I gotta save money,” Beck offers with annoyance lacing his voice.
“Actually, we’re sharing a room to keep an eye on Beck,” I whisper.
“I could’ve kept an eye on myself, Little Dove,” Beck grumbles.
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone go to sleep. I’m trying to sleep,” Asher sighs.
Beck thankfully slept most of the plane ride back to Pittsburgh.
Asher and I talked quietly amongst ourselves.
We tried to come up with a plan to keep Beck as active as possible without overexerting himself. But every idea we’ve suggested Beck has shot down.
Beck’s tried to show up at the gym to work out several times and has been kicked out by one person or another. Which has only pissed him off more. He thinks we’re all “ganging up on him.”
Quinn said he’s been stopping by the café multiple times throughout the day, driving her crazy because he’s bored. She made him wipe down some tables and re-organize a few of the bookshelves to make himself useful, getting him out of her hair.
A few of the trainees have said that Beck keeps trying to give them advice on their workouts but he’s nitpicking every little thing, irritating them too.
Every time Beck runs into me, he responds like a Neanderthal with grunts because he’s sick of being told what to do.
Even Mayhem seems sick of his shit at this point. Rolling his eyes and letting out annoyed whimpers when his dad lashes out.
Walking into the gym to work out myself, I notice Beck lacing up his shoes. He heads toward the treadmill, but one of the younger athletes immediately notices and rushes over and beats him to it, “Sorry Beck, I gotta warm up. Boss’s orders.”
Beck immediately throws his fist into one of the padded walls and lets out a deep frustrated growl, “It’s been three and a half weeks. Give me a fucking bone.”
I flinch when his fist hits the wall. But I end up smiling because the young athlete is laughing as he starts jogging on the treadmill, hollering out, “Mayhem probably has one you can borrow!”
Beck snarls at the poor kid, before he heads toward the front door. The second he’s out the door he takes off running down the sidewalk.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. I decide to follow Beck, just in case something happens to him.
Beck starts out running at least a little slower, but about ten minutes into his version of a jog he really starts ramping up his pace. I try my best to keep up with him, but his legs are probably three times the length of mine and I can’t even if I tried.
“What the hell are you doing?” Beck yells, stopping abruptly.
I almost crash into him, but he puts his hands out to stop me from colliding into his frame.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” I yell back, looking up at him.
“Why do you have to be so small, Little Dove?” Beck groans.
“Excuse me?” I bite out.
“Your legs are so damn short. You can’t keep up with me! I’m not going to just let you run in this park alone, but you’re slowing me down and I need to fucking run. I have too much cooped up energy,” Beck yells out, before he takes off in a jog again.
“So, you knew I was following you and you kept running anyways,” I growl, running after him.
“Of course, I knew. Do you think I run this slow regularly?” Beck questions sarcasm laced in his tone.
“This isn’t slow. Quit running from your problems. The doctor said you can’t do more than jog this week, Beckett. Why are you so damn stubborn?” I holler.
“Why doesn’t anyone understand I need to let off steam? I need to workout or my thoughts catch up to me,” Beck blurts out and then immediately looks ashamed.
I stop abruptly on the sidewalk in the park. Bent over at the waist trying to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” Beck asks softly, walking up to me.
“Cramp. Not…” I let out a deep exhale. “Not a runner.”
“So why are you running with me then?” Beck questions.
“If you won’t take care of you then I’m sure as hell going to,” I say, taking another deep breath.
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Beck grumbles.
“Everyone needs to be taken care of,” I cry out.
“What if I run with you on my shoulders? Then I can run and don’t have to worry about leaving you in my dust,” Beck jokes and reaches for me like he’s going to try to lift me up.
“Nope. Absolutely not. Don’t you dare. Keep your hands to yourself, Beckett,” I shout.
“Shit. Okay, sorry.” Beck backs off. “No need to shout.”
“Beck. You are running when you were told not to. You have tried to go to the gym daily, when you were told not to. You literally just said you don’t want your thoughts to catch up to you.
That you need an outlet to let off steam.
What if you actually talked about your thoughts?
Sometimes releasing it is the best thing you can do,” I offer, sitting down on the grass, crossing my legs.
“What the hell are you doing? Get up,” Beck barks at me.
“No.” I shout at him.
“What do you mean, no?” Beck comes closer to me.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
“How does what feel?” Beck looks at me so confused.
“How does it feel for me to defy you? For me to tell you no? For me not to listen to you? Over something so benign?” I ask, lying back, looking up at the sky.
“Sloan. Get off the ground. It’s filthy,” Beck barks.
“Answer the question, Beck,” I say, pretending to do snow angels in the grass to irritate him some more.
“I don’t need to answer your question,” Beck says frustrated, running his hand through his sweaty blond hair.
“And I don’t need to get off the ground,” I say matter of fact, looking up at him.
“It’s not the same.” Beck throws his hands in the air.
“It is,” I affirm. “You want me to do something and I want you to do something but neither of us agrees with the other because we’re both being stubborn.
You’re running from your past and so am I.
You don’t like being told no. I’m tired of not being able to say no.
You don’t like to give up control. I am trying to take back my control. ”
“Fine,” Beck says, lying down next to me.
“Fine what?” I ask quietly, rolling over onto my side to face him.
“I’ll stop trying to do too much,” Beck says so softly I almost don’t hear him. “But I want you to train with me.”
“Why?” I sit up questioning him.
“Because I know you’re running from something too and I want you to feel ready if your past comes back for you.” Beck sits up and leans his shoulder into mine.
“Okay,” I whisper before a squeak leaves my body and I’m being lifted into the air.
“Put me down!” I smack Beck’s shoulders.
“Let me give you a piggyback ride back. It’s low impact resistance training.” Beck winks at me while he’s still holding me in the air.
“Ugh. You’re a caveman,” I squeal.
“I know,” Beck says so quietly, still holding me suspended in the air like I weigh nothing.
“Fine. My legs are tired from trying to keep up with your ass. Squat down, please,” I push on his shoulders to get him to lower himself so I can climb on his back.
Beck gives me a little boost and then he’s off and jogging again. Carrying me like a baby koala on his back. Giggles erupt from me. A sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself make.
“You have a great laugh, Little Dove. I need to hear it more often,” Beck says sweetly as he continues to run.
Warmth and something like hope, spreads through me. As a fissure in my heart fills in with the slightest bit of glue. I hold onto Beck just a tad tighter and let myself give in just the littlest bit to the feeling of safety that washes over me being held in his strong arms.
“I’m starving!” Beck says as I hear his stomach grumble.
“Take me back to the café and I’ll whip us up some breakfast.” Gripping his neck a little tighter.
“You better eat with me, Little Dove.”
I growl at him and dig my nails into his chest.
“Please eat with me?” Beck asks sweetly.
“Okay.” I ruffle his hair, smiling to myself.
“You’re a feral, little thing,” Beck comments with a chuckle.
“You’re a Neanderthal,” I joke back.
Beck laughs and I sink a little deeper into his hold.