by Skye Jordan
Clint followed Tommy out the door while the two men agreed to meet up for a game of hoops the next morning.
As soon as the door closed behind them, a deafening silence hung in the air.
“Were you notified?” Tori asked, her voice vibrating with the same tension humming inside Eden. “Is he out?”
“No.” Eden’s throat tightened. Her heart beat too quickly. “I don’t know.”
If he knew where she was, she’d have to get a restraining order. She’d have to watch her back even more than she did already. If he showed signs of following through on the threat he’d made while they’d dragged him from the courtroom, she’d have to relocate. She’d have to put her life on hold—again—and just when she was so close to moving up and moving on.
Tori reached out and gave Eden’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “One step at a time. You’ve handled this before. You can handle it again.”
But she shouldn’t have to, and the thought that she might stoked both fury and terror. She exhaled and gave Tori a nod, then headed toward a larger room in the back of the house.
The staff had designated this as the rec room because it was where all their entertainment was housed—television, stereo, movie collection, Xbox, Nintendo, video games, ping-pong table, dartboard. Every EMT brought some form of distraction to pass the time in this home away from home.
Eden stepped down into the room, and her gaze immediately latched on to the only bright spot—a bouquet sitting on the poker table. Her feet halted, and her chest squeezed.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. The arrangement was both elaborate and extravagant—a huge spray of lilies and lilacs, foxglove and delphinium, and more roses than she’d ever seen together at one time.
“Good Lord.” Tori’s voice broke into the fear clouding Eden’s mind. “That’s…ridiculous.”
Eden couldn’t make her feet move forward. Her heart pounded in her ears. Fear tumbled through her like a waterfall.
Tori slid a hand over Eden’s shoulder, and she flinched. Shame and anger heated Eden’s face, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”
“Do you want me to open the card?”
Eden took a breath, then blew it out in a slow stream. Tears of fear burned her eyes. She threaded her fingers together and twisted her hands. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Please.”
Tori moved toward the flowers and searched among the blooms for a card. It would be just like John not to leave one. After all the bouquets he’d sent the morning after to smooth things over—as if flower petals could heal cuts and bruises and scars on her psyche—he knew she would assume they were from him.
Eden crossed one arm over her middle and lifted her other hand to the back of her neck. She threaded her fingers into her hair and ran her fingertips over the scar there.
Tori plucked a small white envelope from the middle of the bouquet. “Jeez, almost couldn’t find it in this forest.”
She tossed a nervous look at Eden, then tore the envelope and pulled out the small card. Eden closed her hands into fists, her gaze intense on Tori’s expression.
Her dark brows pulled down, and she shot a look at Eden. “You’re definitely not telling me something. Who’s…Beckett?”
The name hit Eden sideways. Beckett? Beckett Croft had sent her flowers?
That was even harder to believe than John finding a way to send them from prison. Croft had seemed too focused on the challenge of getting Eden to swoon over him to think outside himself. Even if he’d considered a thank-you gesture as patients occasionally did, a full week had passed since then, and he was already playing again. Eden had seen his return to the ice on the news.
She released a long breath of relief, but she was still shaky. “What does it say?”
Tori lowered her gaze to the card and read. “‘We had a rocky intro. I’d like a chance to show you my better side. I sometimes chill at Top Shelf after home games. Or call me for a more private meeting.’” She flipped the card over. “‘Our schedules probably aren’t overly compatible, but I’d love to sneak in a stolen moment with you.’” Tori read off a phone number. “And in parentheses underneath it says, ‘My personal cell. Please don’t share.’”
The knot in her gut unwound a little more, and Eden breathed easier. Her lips tipped up a little when she remembered Beckett’s lighter side once he’d been pulled away from the ice. Then heat stirred when she remembered his hard body, handsome face, and overwhelming confidence. Sure, she’d fantasized about him over the last week. Who wouldn’t?
“Sneak in a stolen moment?” Tori lifted her hands out to the sides with a what-the-hell look on her face. “What rocky intro? Beckett who? Why didn’t you tell me about this? He sounds ridiculously dreamy.”
He did sound pretty damned dreamy. And so did sneaking in a stolen moment with him. Until her mind filled with images of his brutality on the ice.
Eden really didn’t feel like rehashing her meeting with Beckett, but by the look on Tori’s face… She relented with a sigh. “He’s one of the Rough Riders. The one Gabe and I had to take in to the hospital.”
Tori opened her mouth to say something, but her gaze hazed over, and after a long, agonizing moment, she finally managed, “Oh…”
Eden had shared pieces of her traumatic past with Tori. She huffed a humorless laugh. “Exactly.”
Tori regrouped, pressed one hand to her hip, and tapped her chin with the corner of the card. “Well…” Tilting her head, she lowered her gaze to the floor, her brow pressed into a concerned frown. “Hmm…”
Their pagers sounded simultaneously. Eden was grateful for the distraction. “There’s one of my last five.” She pulled the pager from her belt and read the call. “Woman down, Dupont Circle.”
Tori passed Eden on her way toward the door and their ambulance beyond, holding the card out to her. “We’re not done talking about this.”
Eden stuffed the card into her pants pocket and followed, pulling up the address of their call on her phone along with potential routes to the location.
She climbed into the passenger’s side and fastened her seat belt as Tori pulled out of the garage. “Take 23rd to NW O to 20th. The whole freaking map is red tonight.”
“What else is new?” Tori flipped on the sirens while Eden took control of the radio, informing dispatch they were en route.
“You know he’s not John,” Tori said, continuing their conversation about Beckett as she sped down Q Street toward the heart of DC. “Just because he’s a hockey player doesn’t mean—”
“He’s an enforcer.” The last word felt so uncomfortable coming out of Eden’s mouth. “Gabe explained it to me. He’s the guy on the team who—”
“Fights,” Tori finished. “I’ve heard.”
“Figures, right?” The first guy who’d created any kind of interest in her in two years had violence in his blood. “Am I a freaking magnet for these guys or something?”
“It’s not like you’ve dated dozens of guys and they’ve all been bullies.” Tori slowed, checked an intersection, and pushed through. “Do you like him?”
“I don’t even know him.”
“You know what I mean. Was there a spark?”
“He was an ass the first fifteen minutes, pissed they’d pulled him out of the game. When he calmed down, he was more tolerable, but he was arrogant, cocky. You know the type.”
“Sure—successful, driven, good-looking, built. The kind of accomplished guy who’s got something to be cocky about.”
“Doesn’t mean he has to be.”
They approached an intersection where cars were stacked at a red light. Tori pulled into the oncoming lane to pass. Once she was on the correct side of the road again, she said, “He had to be tolerable or you would have called him a creep or a jerk or a loser by now. Let me ask it this way, if he wasn’t a hockey player, would you be interested in seeing him?”
That turned Eden’s mind a different direction. As the siren blared in the background, Beckett�
��s smile flashed in her head. Then the way his brown eyes lightened when he laughed. A pang of desire hit Eden. A pang that grew to a craving when she thought of the fantasies she’d created over the last week involving him. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Eden,” Tori said, her tone a compassionate reprimand. “It’s been two years. You left California so you could have a life, but all you do is work and study. That’s not a life.”
“I know,” she grumbled. She wasn’t living, she was existing. Had been from the moment she’d escaped to the East Coast. She kept telling herself she’d venture out when she could cut back on work or when school eased up, but that never happened. And she was tired of the isolation, the stress, the loneliness. There was no fun, no relaxation, no love in her life. Her friends were all from work or school, and they were all superficial. All except Tori. “But, honestly, the thought of that whole boyfriend thing…” She shuddered with an involuntary sound of aversion. “Makes me feel all…boxed in. Makes me want to squirm to get out.”
“Screw the boyfriend idea. How about a hookup buddy? He seems like the prime candidate for a booty call. He’s hot, he travels, he’s got a demanding career. Not to mention he’s intensely fit, so you know he can go the distance in bed, if you know what I mean.”
Oh man, did Eden know what Tori meant. The thought had heat building between her legs. It had been so long since she’d had good sex. Fun, carefree, fulfilling, healthy sex. And, damn, she missed that part of her life.
“Hmmm.” Her gaze blurred over the street through the windshield as Tori navigated into a residential area. “A hookup situation does sound like a better option.” At least it did until her memory flashed with the look on his handsome face when he’d rammed the other player into the boards. “Maybe just not with this guy. If you’d seen him on the ice, I think you’d agree.” She scanned the numbers on the street. “It’s the third town house on the left. The one with the shiny black door.”
Tori pulled to a stop at the curb and put the rig into Park. “Don’t make any decisions right now. Just thank him for the flowers and leave it open-ended. See where it goes.”
They both bailed out of the truck to open the back. Tori dragged out the stretcher, and Eden tossed the jump bag on top, then grabbed the oxygen tank and followed Tori toward the house.
“Eden,” Tori nagged. “Promise me you’ll at least consider it.”
“Yes, fine.” She took hold of the foot of the gurney and started up the brick steps. A small part of her was relieved Tori made the demand. Because it gave Eden permission to consider something her common sense wouldn’t. “I’ll think about it.”
An older African-American man stood on the porch, holding the storm door open.
“My wife,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “She’s having trouble breathing.”
And just like that, all thoughts of hooking up with Beckett Croft faded into the background.
4
Beckett’s whole body felt like one big cooked noodle by the time he filed into the locker room along with his teammates. Their spirited comments over the game mixed with heavy breathing and the clack, clack, clack of equipment.
At his space on the bench, he dropped his butt to the wood, uncapped a bottle of cold water, and downed it without pausing. Once everyone was settled, Coach Tremblay gave a short talk, congratulating the team and pointing out their strengths during the game.
The floor then transitioned to Rafe Savage, the player named MVP during the previous win. Rafe pulled the ceremonial Revolution-era tricorne hat, a symbol chosen to represent the team’s name, from his locker. The brown leather was worn, the gold trim frayed from the hat’s many travels with the team.
Savage stood and worked the leather back into shape as he spoke. “Passing this on tonight is easy. For single-handedly cultivating college funds to support the children of the Blackhawks’ team dentist, I hand this over to Beckett Croft.” Group laughter erupted around the room, peppered by hoots and hollers. Savage handed the hat to Beckett with a grin and a “Way to clean house, bud.”
Beckett felt every one of those hits tonight. But he stood as if he were twenty-two with no scars, and firmly positioned the prize on his head, then posed for a few photos. And since the love of his life was currently ensconced in a Disney-movie marathon with her cousins at her grandmother’s house, he said, “I guess drinks are on me.”
After showering and changing back into the clothes he’d worn to the stadium, Beckett wandered toward Top Shelf with the other guys, lingering behind to call his mom. Before he could tap into FaceTime and connect, his attorney’s name lit up his screen.
He groaned but then purposely twisted his thoughts in a positive direction before he answered. “Hey, Fred. Tell me you’ve got good news.”
“I’ve got good news and not so good news.”
“Hold on a sec.” As they approached the bar, Beckett lowered the phone. “Hey, guys, I’ll be right in. Open a tab.”
When his teammates disappeared inside, Beckett leaned his back against a light post, grateful the icy wind wasn’t blowing tonight. “Okay, what have you got?”
“The good news,” Fred said, “is that Toby located Kim’s aunt at a nursing home in Sarasota, Florida.”
“That’s great.”
“Hold on,” Fred cautioned, pulling Beckett’s hopes down a little. “While she does corroborate your story about Kim dumping Lily on her and leaving without ever looking back, her health has deteriorated considerably over the last year. If her state of mind is challenged, I can’t guarantee her affidavit will be all that beneficial.”
Beckett winced.
“Also,” Fred went on, “inside sources say Kim and Henderson are a little on the rocky side. A lot of ups and downs over the last month or two.”
Beckett squeezed his eyes closed. “Fuck.”
“Hey,” Fred said, serious and steadfast, “I’m going to keep a titanium bubble around you and Lily, Beck. I’m giving you the big picture, but worrying, planning, and counterattack are my job. Your job is to focus on the ice. Securing that next contract is as important to keeping you and Lily together as holding Kim at arm’s length. You’ve trusted me for years. You’ve got to trust me now. You know it would kill me to see that bitch get Lily back.”
“I know.” Beckett exhaled, his jaw muscles pulsing as his teeth clenched and released. “Listen, I’ll feel better if we go all the way with this. Don’t stop with her aunt. Get all Lily’s medical records, get statements from Kim’s neighbors, friends, coworkers, talk to her ex-boyfriends, anyone who took care of Lily during that time. I want documentation on not only how Kim abandoned her that one time, but showing it was a pattern of behavior. Because we both know it was a pattern, the same way her calls to me for money are a pattern. And if her patterns hold true, that means her relationship with Henderson is going to fall through. Hopefully that will happen after a judge awards me full custody of Lily, but I want all the ammunition I can possibly get in case that relationship goes south before.”
“Beck, you know that’s going to take an enormous amount of manpower—”
“I don’t care what it costs. If you have to put Toby on it full time, three guys on it, five guys on it, whatever you’ve got to do, Fred, just do it.”
“Okay, okay.” He used his soothing tone. “I’ll do whatever you want, and I’ll get it done as fast as possible, but Kim hasn’t made any aggressive moves, so I think it’s best to play this cool. As if we’re confident. As if we’ll keep giving her money as long as she wants it. The less flack she gets as we approach the hearing, the less apt she’ll be to launch her own offensive maneuvers. You have to remember, she’s had a whole year to stash Henderson’s cash. There’s no telling what kind of resources she’s got now. And there’s a lot of talk about you being the hottest free ticket coming on the market in July.”
Beckett dropped his hand and stared blankly at the pedestrians passing on the sidewalk. God, the pressure felt like a vise. Holding on t
o Lily, staying close to his family, securing another contract. It seemed to build and build, with hockey being his only consistent outlet.
“I hear you,” he said.
Fred promised to keep him posted, and Beckett disconnected, then used FaceTime to call his parents’ house, searching for some good to offset the bad.
His mother answered, her familiar smile filling the screen. She was in the kitchen of his parents’ home in the hills of Arlington. “That had to be one of your best games to date, son. At thirty-one, you keep getting better.”
“Thanks.” His mother had sung Beckett’s praises since he first stepped on the ice, but it still made him smile. “It was a tough game.”
“That’s an understatement. Keep playing like that, and you won’t have to worry about where your next contract is coming from.”
He pulled up a smile for his mom. “That’s the plan.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t be there.”
“Me too, but after decades, you’ve seen enough of my hockey games. You’ve got something more important to do now.”
“Yes, I do.” She stood and walked through the house. “Listen to this.”
She moved down the stairway to his parents’ finished basement, and a flurry of giggles floated over the line. Beckett laughed, and his stress melted. Nothing could relax him like Lily’s love and laughter. In ten short months, her happiness had become his absolute first priority.
“That is beautiful,” he told his mom.
“She’s come so far, Beckett.” His mom’s voice was soft, her expression drenched with love. “She’s a completely different little girl from the one left on your doorstep last year.”
He smiled, pleased with Lily’s transformation. “She is amazing.”
“You are an amazing father. We couldn’t be more proud.”
Father.
That reality still seemed to hit him like a fist to the gut, even three years after he’d learned of Lily’s existence. The responsibility that title laid on his shoulders stole his breath and touched everything he did. Would continue to affect every decision he made for the rest of his life. And every time he thought of Lily, he welcomed all of it.