Chapter 9 Beckett
I push through the glass doors of the medical center, boots squeaking against the floor, and walk the full length of the hallway without stopping. Then I circle back, retrace my steps, and exit through the same entrance I came in.
Buying time. Making sure she's gone.
Theo's car idles at the curb. I pull open the passenger door and slide in.
He pulls away before I've closed it.
"She handed her phone to you," he states, eyes on the road.
"Your plan worked." I glance at him. "She didn't recognize me at first. Then she did — and now she thinks I'm Cody's friend who showed up to get a broken finger checked out."
"You're his best friend," Theo says, flat.
"Right." I pause. "She dropped something on me. She transferred. To UW."
Silas exhales slowly from the backseat. "Shit."
Theo's knuckles whiten against the wheel. "Why?"
"She said she planned it for a while. Said she wanted to surprise him. Never got the chance." I watch the city pass through the window. "She's here alone now. No friends. No Cody. She has no idea where to put herself."
Silas says quietly, "She's isolated."
"She's not innocent," Theo snaps.
I don't argue. I just let it sit.
"She had the laptop," I say.
That earns me a look from Theo — fast and loaded.
"In her car. She's been keeping it in her car."
The silence that follows is its own kind of answer.
"I'm going to get it from her," I say.
Theo laughs — that low, building sound — and takes a drag from his vape, blowing smoke toward the windshield. "Welcome to UW, Adela."
I stare at the brake lights bleeding red in the rain ahead of us.
She's isolated. She's desperate. She's reaching for anything that feels like an answer.
Hours later, I'm at my kitchen table, flexing my hand, trying to straighten the swollen finger. Pain shoots through the joint with each attempt.
Serena texts. I reply without thinking about it.
Twenty minutes later, she's in my bed.
I go through the motions — fast and done. She's loud about it. I'm somewhere else entirely.
When it's over, I'm staring at the ceiling, and she's trailing her fingers down my back like I've earned softness, and I feel nothing except mildly irritated that I wasted the hour.
My phone lights up on the nightstand. Unknown number. I sit up.
Adela: Hey, are you awake?
Serena stirs. "What is it?"
I stand without answering and walk out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me. The night air is cold and damp. I read the message again.
Adela: You can call me if it's easier. I know guys don't like to text.
I stare at those words, something twisting in my chest.
She'd rather talk. On the phone. To a near stranger who happened to be kind to her in a parking lot for four minutes. That's how thin her footing is right now.
I wait two full minutes before I call.
She answers on the second ring. "Hello?" Soft. Almost surprised, even though she asked me to.
"You texted," I say.
The warmth in her voice retreats slightly. "Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Right." A breath. "Were you — were you friends with Cody? Like, actually?"
"We played on the same team. He was our forward."
"Okay." I hear her swallow. "Did he have problems with anyone? On the team?"
"Not that I saw." The lie comes out smooth and clean.
"So there's no chance someone from the team did this to him?"
"No." I lean against the railing, staring at the dark street. "We have our moments. But at the end of the day, we're family."
The word lands wrong in my own mouth. I let it sit there anyway.
"No one came to visit him," she says, and her voice has hardened. "I'm suspicious."
"Of the team?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to come to practice?" The offer leaves me before I've fully decided on it. "Meet Coach. Meet the guys. Might make it harder to suspect us when you have faces."
She's quiet for a moment. "When?"
"Tomorrow."
"I have class."
"Congratulations. You're officially a UW student."
"Thank you," she says, missing the sarcasm.
There's a pause. "Have the police interviewed any of you?"
"No. Should they have?"
"I don't know. I just thought — if you're like a family—"
"Then maybe they should interview everyone in his classes. Everyone we play against. Everyone he spent time with, including your friends." I keep my voice even. Not aggressive. Just logical.
"Okay," she says.
"Come to practice tomorrow. 6:30. I'll meet you outside."
"I'll be there."
When I walk back inside, Serena is sitting up in my bed, looking like she expects something. I grab her clothes off the floor and hold them out.
She stares at me.
"I have an early morning," I say.
She leaves without making it a thing, which I appreciate.
I'm at the parking lot thirty minutes before practice starts.
Silas appears beside me, gear bag over one shoulder, rain misting down around us. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"
"Waiting."
He follows my eyeline. "For what?"
Theo comes up on my other side, that shift in air pressure that always precedes him. He looks at me, not asking. Just assessing.
"Trust the plan," I say. "I'll bring her in."
Theo's expression doesn't move, but something behind his eyes does. He turns and walks inside. Silas follows.
She's ten minutes early.
I watch her cross the lot through the mist — black raincoat buttoned to her throat, expensive jeans, bright red rubber boots. She looks completely out of place and entirely unaware of it. There's something almost determined about the way she's walking.
"Hi." She's slightly breathless when she reaches me. She extends a cup. "I brought you something."
I take it. "What is this?" Not sure if I’m asking what the drink is or what the hell she’s thinking buying me a fucking drink.
"Creatine." A blush starts in her cheeks. "You have practice, and I figured — I don't know. You can throw it away."
I look at her for a moment. Her fingers are twisted together. She can't hold my gaze for more than a few seconds before she looks away.
I take a long sip.
Fruity. Pretty tasty.
Something moves through me that I don't acknowledge.
"Is this what you did for Cody?" I ask.
The tears gather fast. She shakes her head and looks at her phone. "You're going to be late."
I gesture toward the inner doors. "Go through those doors and take a seat in the rink. I'll see you in there."
She starts walking.
"Hey."
She stops and turns.
I hold up the cup. "This is good." I let it be genuine, just for a second. "Thank you."
A small smile. Then she keeps walking.
I watch her go.
In the locker room, Silas spots the cup immediately. "What the fuck is that?"
"Creatine."
He grabs it, sniffs, and sips. He reads the label. "She made you a custom pre-workout?"
"Apparently."
Theo says nothing. He stares at the cup like he's running something through his head at high speed.
I pull my jersey on and don't offer anything else.
On the ice, I find my stride quickly, the familiar ease of skates on a clean surface. When I glance up at the stands, she's there in the third row with her black raincoat folded beside her.
She raises her hand when she sees me.
I don't wave back. I hold her gaze until her hand lowers slowly to her lap. Then I look away and push off, picking up speed.
Around me, a few of the guys are already glancing up toward the stands, wondering.
She brought me a drink she mixed herself. She called instead of texting. She showed up ten minutes early, wearing red rubber boots, in the rain.
She wasn't expecting any of this to be hard.
A slow smile crosses my face before I can stop it.
This is going to be a problem.