Chapter Thirty-One #2
“When Ella texted me what happened, my stomach dropped out,” I tell her. “I didn’t see that text for a while because I was out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, but as soon as I saw it, I headed right over here.”
“Thank you for coming to see me. That means a lot.”
“I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in. I’m so sorry.”
“It could have been so much worse,” Georgie says. “I’m thankful.”
“I know you’re going to have a recovery period, and I want to help. If you need someone to keep you company, help with laundry, anything, I want to be there.”
“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll take you up on that. I’ll especially need help when Beckham is on the road.”
“Then I’m your girl. Along with all your other girls,” I tease.
She smiles. “I’m so lucky to have so many good friends.”
Her phone begins to vibrate on the table sitting next to the other guest chair. “I had Ella put up a post about the accident on Connectivity and Instagram,” Georgie says. “I explained why Beckham is a scratch tonight.”
What? Why would she have to explain that? Of course Beckham would be with her—she fell down a flight of stairs and ended up in the hospital!
“Scarlett, you know Beckham’s reputation prior to coming to Miami,” she says slowly.
“I also know how sports works. You don’t take days off unless you’re hurt.
Or a baby is born, or someone dies. Beckham risked everything tonight to be with me.
I wanted your dad and the coaching staff to see why.
He didn’t have time to get team approval.
Beckham has been with me because I needed him. And he needed to be with me.”
Understanding dawns on me. “You’re worried about the consequences of him not showing up tonight.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you mind if I read what you wrote?”
“We’re friends, of course I don’t mind.”
I retrieve her phone and swipe it open. I pull up her Instagram feed and tap on her post to read what she wrote. The last paragraph makes me emotional.
Beckham put everything aside to get me through this crisis.
We didn’t know if I had suffered any severe neck or spinal injuries, and I was terrified.
He was determined to make sure I stayed calm, and he reassured me that he wasn’t leaving my side.
Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
I was in a crisis, I was hurt, I was scared.
Beckham made it clear he was going to stay with me because he loved me, and he knew I needed him.
He spent hours in the ER, holding my hand.
Listening to diagnoses. Helping me be brave.
Beckham knows his responsibility to the team, and he takes that seriously.
He’s the first one to practice. The last one to leave.
And the first to arrive on game day. And that is how he will be after today, too.
But for this one day, his personal life took precedence.
Beckham didn’t take that lightly. But he made the decision that was best for him—for me—to be with me when I needed him most. I hope you all can admire him for making that decision as much as I do. Georgie.
Her words hit me right in the heart. I blink back tears after I’m done reading. There’s no question Beckham did the right thing tonight. There’s no hockey rule or code that he’d put above Georgie.
My heart begins to pound. Rules and codes are important, I understand that.
But so is love.
Beckham chose love. He didn’t care what the consequences might be. Georgie needed him and that was it.
Just like how Aiden chose to love me.
And it’s time my dad knows it.
I shift my thoughts back to Georgie and Beckham, looking straight at her.
“Nothing is going to happen to Beckham,” I say, my voice shaky but determined.
“First, from working in social media, this was a brilliant move. Yes, some fans will be assholes about it, but in this day and age? Most people are going to be on Beckham’s side.
This isn’t him not showing up because he’s partied too hard the night before.
This is Beckham making the choice of being there for the woman he loves in an emergency. It was the right call.”
“Thank you,” Georgie says softly.
“And if you’re worried about my dad, well, he’s old school.
Hockey is his life. But even he understands that players have lives, and that includes ups and downs and crises.
I will remind him of that tonight. Trust me, the team will stand behind Beckham after seeing these pictures.
And Beckham won’t face discipline for being a good man.
I’ll do everything I can to make sure of it.
But honestly? I don’t think it will be needed, Georgie. You took care of it yourself.”
The door opens, and I turn to see Beckham walk in carrying a tray of coffee drinks. He blinks in surprise when he sees me, and I rise from my chair.
“Becks,” I say, slipping my purse over my shoulder. “I just stopped by to see how Georgie is doing. I’m not going to stay any longer because she needs her rest. But I also want to tell you something. You did the right thing by not playing tonight.”
Beckham glances over at Georgie in bed before looking back at me. “There was no choice to be made. Georgie needed me.”
“And you needed to be with her.”
“I did. And I don’t regret my choice.”
“Nor should you.” I turn and look back at her. “I meant what I said, Georgie. Leave everything to me.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” I say. “Good night.”
Then I leave the room, wrapped up in thoughts about Beckham and Aiden. I don’t think Beckham will be in trouble. Georgie was in a bad accident. My dad would expect him to be here with her tonight. But I will make sure he understands that as soon as I get to my car and can leave him a message.
I make my way to the parking lot and slip behind the wheel of my car. I turn on the engine, but stay put with my phone in my hand. I dial my dad’s number, knowing it will go straight to voicemail since the game is going on.
“You’ve reached Scott Rivershon. Leave a message.”
I wait for the beep and then speak from my heart.
“Dad, it’s Scarlett. I’m leaving the hospital after seeing Beckham’s girlfriend.
She’s been admitted for overnight observation after falling down the stairs, and I know you wouldn’t penalize Beckham for not being at the game tonight because of this.
He wouldn’t miss a game like this without a very good reason, and his priority was being with Georgie first, then seeking permission from the team later.
But Dad? After seeing Georgie? Beckham did the right thing.
She needed him after her fall, and you know he did the right thing, too.
“But there’s something else we need to talk about,” I continue, my voice strong sounding even to my own ears, “and that is who I’ve been seeing. I’ll come over with him after the game tonight so we can talk about it. But Dad? Just like Beckham, I know I’ve made the right choice.”
I end the call. I quickly text Dad to let him know I’ve left him a voicemail, and then I text the Manatees’ communications director and ask him to please tell Dad to listen to my voicemail after the game tonight.
Now I have one more message to send. I pull open the last thread I had with Aiden and write:
Aiden. It’s time to tell Dad. This situation with Beckham and Georgie has made me realize I don’t want to wait another second. I love you, and I’m no longer going to hide it. I’ll meet you in the parking lot after the game.
Then I hit send.