Eden walked into the Verizon arena feeling a lot like she had the first time she’d stepped on an ambulance—filled with a mix of anticipation, excitement, and hope, all wrapped up in a straitjacket of fear.
She’d overcome those fears and thrived. Eden hoped she could do the same with Beckett.
“Let’s walk around,” Gabe said beside her, his excitement palpable. “Pre-skate won’t start for another ten minutes.”
Whatever pre-skate was. Eden wasn’t asking too many questions. She was already overwhelmed. Today, she wanted to get an overall feel for this huge chunk of Beckett’s life. Simply making that purposeful decision to take him home, show him who she really was, and love him openly had been a major breakthrough in her life. Now, she was recovering with baby steps.
The halls were filled with a sea of fans in royal-blue Rough Riders jerseys. Excitement crackled in the air. Concession stands lined one side of the row, retail outlets the other side. She followed Gabe into a storefront where he picked up a Rough Riders scarf. While she waited, Eden found jerseys exactly like the one she wore and ran her hand over Beckett’s last name emblazoned across the shoulders.
“Aren’t you glad I made you wear it now?” Gabe asked, coming up to her.
She grinned. When he’d picked her up, she’d been in a regular sweater. They’d argued for ten minutes over her wearing Beckett’s jersey until Gabe had refused to take her to the game in anything else.
“Do you like the guy or not?” Gabe had asked.
“Yes, I like him,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want to have his name tagged on my back like property.”
“It’s not about ownership,” Gabe argued, passionate. “It’s about support and pride and team spirit. It’s about wearing the name of the guy who impresses the hell out of you with his dedication and talent.”
That was the argument that made Eden cave. Because when she stripped away her fears, Beckett Croft did impress the hell out of her—in more ways than she could name.
Now, she relented. “Yes, I’m glad you made me wear it.”
Gabe grinned and laid his new scarf around his neck. “Let’s go find our killer seats.” He crossed the aisle and started down the stairs between sections. “Not that you’re going to appreciate them,” he shot over his shoulder, “since you didn’t appreciate standing rinkside.”
“Maybe I should have brought one of the other guys,” she teased.
“Don’t even.” He finally stopped and pointed to a row. “Right here.” Then he looked at the rink, ten rows and maybe thirty feet away. “Amazing.” And cut a serious look at Eden. “I want you to marry this guy. Do you hear me?”
Eden burst out laughing.
“I’m serious,” Gabe said.
“I know. That’s what’s so funny. That and the fact that I’m not marrying anyone.”
Their seats were on the end of the row, and as they sat, the lights dimmed. Colored spotlights roamed the ice, and the announcer introduced the Rough Riders. The crowd went wild, buzzers sounded, smoke shot from the ceiling, and the team filed out of a hallway beneath the stands directly across the ice from Eden’s and Gabe’s seats. The opposing team also came out onto the ice, each warming up at opposite ends of the rink.
The lights came up, the crowd quieted down, and music played over the speakers as the players took shots, passed, and generally loosened up.
Eden searched for Beckett, but the players all looked the same, so she scanned for his number—twenty-two. She found him slapping the puck into the net. He swung behind the goal, then turned and skated backward in a big loop.
His ease and grace and fluidity took Eden’s breath. His movements looked effortless and elegant, unlike anything she’d expected. Unlike anything she’d seen in those clips she’d watched. There, his skills had been sharp and choppy and brutal.
Eden felt like they’d only been on the ice moments before they returned to the locker room and the announcer distracted fans with promotional presentations and Rough Riders player statistics on the Jumbotron. Gabe picked up on one of the announcer’s threads about the roster and went off on a tangent about players and starters and strings that Eden wasn’t interested in following. She was still in awe of how quickly the seats had filled with blue.
So many fans.
Gabe had explained that this stadium was also used by another local NHL team, the Capitals. In the off-season, this was the home court for Washington’s local professional basketball team and often hosted major musical headliners.
Gabe said something about Beckett, and Eden cued in to her coworker’s dialogue. Turning to him, she said, “What?”
Gabe let out a breath, his lids lowered with a frustrated look. “You said you wanted to learn. If you don’t, that’s fine. I’ll shut up and enjoy the game.”
“I do. I’m sorry. This is a little overwhelming.”
“I was telling you that this is an important year for Beckett. His contract with the Rough Riders is up at the end of the season. He’ll become an unrestricted free agent—”
Eden shook her head and held her hands palms up.
“That means,” Gabe went on, “that if he kills it this season, he’ll be prime meat, up for grabs come July first. He’s getting pretty good money now, but that would set him up for big money. I’ve seen teams get in bidding wars over defensemen like him. He’ll be able to name his terms for the next four to eight years of his life, which is important at his age. And everyone agrees this has been his best season yet. They’re talking about him getting chosen for the men’s Olympic team.”
“Wow.” Eden tried to sound adequately impressed, but she’d already reached awestruck saturation. She also didn’t want to admit she hadn’t even realized there was a US Olympic ice hockey team. “What do you mean his age? He’s still so young.”
“Not for hockey. If these guys haven’t been written out of contracts or gone out with an injury by their early thirties, they start retiring. There are very few players in the game in their late thirties. Only a handful in their forties. Beckett’s headed into the last phase of his career, and he’ll want to go out on top.”
She wasn’t sure why that made tension pull across her shoulders. Something about the connection between his success and increased violence on the ice wasn’t sitting right.
Eden purposely pulled in a breath and cleared her mind of the irrational mental connections. She was really annoyed at how they kept popping up. How deeply they’d been ingrained. How hard it was to reprogram her brain.
Glancing at the clock on the Jumbotron, she was glad there was less than a minute until the first period started.
When her gaze returned to the ice, a group passing her on the steps caught her eye. It was hard not to notice a woman herding three young girls five rows closer to the ice—all four of them with Croft emblazoned from shoulder to shoulder.
A smile automatically tipped her lips up, but a pang stirred in her gut and dragged her happiness away. Eden pressed her hands to the discomfort in her belly and pulled her gaze from the group. She let the therapy and practiced responses take her mind from the painful memories.
The stadium filled with buzzers and sirens and lights. The announcer welcomed the Rough Riders into the rink once again, and Eden sought out Beckett’s jersey, then kept her eyes on him as the two teams set up for their face-off.
Even though Eden had played a variety of sports during grade school and high school, she couldn’t keep track of anything that was happening—it all happened so damn fast. Half the time, she couldn’t even find Beckett.
Gabe’s tutoring only confused her more. He spoke a language she didn’t know. The referees called penalties she didn’t understand. The players had an etiquette she couldn’t comprehend. The one that especially puzzled her was the way they all pushed and shoved and elbowed and tripped with what seemed like absolute detachment. The way one would slam the other against the wall, then both men would turn and race after the puck again, emotionless, as if the encounter never happened.
Her mind drifted back to that day at the Y and the way Tate and Andre had jockeyed for berries in a rough but good-natured way. Eden wasn’t sure if she should be encouraged or disturbed.
Beside her, Gabe was absorbed, cheering plays, commenting on strategy, and trying to explain it all to Eden. But the players and the puck all moved so damn fast, Eden found herself constantly lost, wondering what the hell everyone was cheering or booing.
She’d lost track of Beckett again when the stadium exploded in applause and noise and lights. Everyone around her jumped to their feet, and Eden couldn’t see anything. She glanced up at Gabe, who was clapping and saying something to her, but the buzzers and sirens were so loud, she couldn’t hear him.
He finally sat back down and grabbed her arm, his face bright with excitement. “Beckett scored! Man, what a shot.”
People sitting toward the middle of the row came toward the aisle, and she and Gabe stood to allow them to pass. Which made Eden look around. She found everyone squeezing out of the rows and flooding up the stairs. By the time she looked at the ice again, the players were gone. “What’s this?”
“Period break.” Gabe stood. “I’m going to grab a beer. Want something?”
Eden sighed and sat back. “No, thanks.”
She looked around the stadium, feeling frustrated and oddly left out. On the ice, a bunch of kids came out to play hockey. And, Lord, they looked so tiny on the big rink. The thought of Beckett on skates at two years old eased a little irritation.
Then her gaze fell on the girls in the forward rows. Their mom had gotten them cotton candy, and they were pulling off fluffy pieces and stuffing the sugar in their mouths, all while dancing to the music pouring through the stadium speakers.
Eden sighed. They were beautiful. The two older girls had long dark hair. The younger one had a head of sandy blonde curls. And it was the youngest one who tied her heartstrings in knots. Probably because she was so little. Probably because she was blonde. Most of the seats between Eden and the girls had been vacated for the break, and she had nothing to distract her from watching them. Nothing to keep her mind from wondering what her life would be like now if she’d walked out on John one day sooner.
The littlest girl danced a circle while eating pink cotton candy off her tiny fingers. Her gaze caught Eden’s and held. A big grin brightened her face. The girl looked like a little cherub and glowed like an angel. Eden felt like a fist reached inside and squeezed in a deeply bittersweet way that spread loss through her.
Then the girl extended her hand toward Eden. “Want some?”
Her voice was as sweet as her face. Despite the hurt, the girl’s raw innocence made Eden laugh. “No, but thank you, sweetie.”
The woman with the girls glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Eden.
“They’re beautiful,” she told the other woman.
She beamed. “Thank you.” She looked at the girls. “What do you say?”
“Thank you,” the older girls said in unison, smiling.
Then the little one followed, with an exaggerated and bubbly “Thank you.”
Their mother was pretty, and the two older girls looked just like her. The little one, not so much. The three girls continued to sway and turn circles with their threads of sugar. And Eden continued to watch, trapped in a situation she would never have endured otherwise. When she dealt with children on the job, her mind was already compartmentalized for work, she generally didn’t spend much time with them, and she was too busy to let her mind wander. This…this was torture. Maybe if these beauties had been boys, her heart wouldn’t be breaking and tears wouldn’t be thickening her throat.
Man, Tori was right. Eden needed to get out and live more. School and work weren’t giving her the exposure she needed to get over the past. She certainly couldn’t hide from relationships and children forever.
Gabe returned, offering her some much needed distraction. Fans refilled the seats between Eden and the little girls. And the game restarted shortly after, restoring Eden with a sense of equilibrium, albeit subdued.
For the remainder of the game, she tried really hard to focus on the plays, on Beckett, and on Gabe’s explanations. During the second break, Eden went to the restroom so she didn’t have to stare at those little girls again. And by the time the third period ended and the Rough Riders won, Eden thought she might have a better understanding of the game. She definitely had a better feel for the game.
To avoid running into the girls again, Eden quickly slid into the flow of fans making their way up the steps. She stayed close to Gabe as they navigated the mob until he’d used their passes to get them through the restricted access mazes underneath the stadium, where wives and girlfriends—WAGs, Gabe had called them—gathered to meet their men after the game.
Eden didn’t love the idea of being lumped in with a group others referred to as WAGs or being seen as someone who waited for “her man.” But she’d have to make other arrangements next time, because she was already here.
When they stood at the mouth of the corridor, Gabe asked, “So where are you two going?”
“Out to dinner. I don’t know where. Somewhere close, I hope. I’m starving.”
“Have fun. Tell Beckett thanks for the tickets and great game.”
“Thanks for coming, Gabe.”
He laughed and offered an enthusiastic “Anytime.”
Stadium staff wandered the halls, and other women and a few children started to gather in the large corridor. Eden wandered toward the end and peered up a staircase that led to a parking lot, which gave her bearings. This hallway wasn’t all that far away from the one they’d used to cart Beckett out to the ambulance.
She was remembering that night, smiling to herself, when little voices echoed off the concrete. Eden looked that direction and found the woman who’d been sitting five rows down from her along with the three precious little girls who had nearly brought Eden to tears.
The four females with Croft on their jerseys.
Eden’s mind pinged backward, and she realized there hadn’t been a man with the group. No husband or father or brother or uncle.
And they were gathered where wives and girlfriends met their men after the game. Wearing Croft jerseys.
Holy shit.
Panic crawled along her shoulders and trickled into the pit of her stomach. The pen and paper in Beckett’s apartment flashed in Eden’s mind. That night, she’d thought they might have been a gag from his teammates. Then she’d learned of his nieces, and she’d assumed the paper and pen had been left behind when they’d been visiting. But now…
Oh God.
No, no, no.
The girls joined a couple of other boys, and they all ran through the corridor, laughing and chasing each other, their gleeful voices bouncing and ricocheting and echoing. The woman with the trio of girls crossed her arms and watched them play with a serene smile on her pretty face. Another woman came around the corner, and the two fell into an easy conversation.
Eden’s brain spiraled for answers. His sister? Could this be his sister and his nieces? But he said he had two nieces, not three. Though the little one could be a friend of the girls. Or the woman could be babysitting.
There were a dozen different explanations to fit this scenario. Logically, Eden knew that. But emotionally, her brain was having a heyday throwing doubt at her, because, honestly, how did Eden know Beckett wasn’t married?
How good could a quick Internet search be? And how many lovers had John passed off as female colleagues right in front of her face? For that matter, how many financial scams had John covered as legitimate business? How many lies had John twisted as truth?
How many attacks had John sworn never to repeat?
What made Eden think she would be any better at seeing lies now than she’d been able to see then?
The woman followed the girls as they ran down the corridor. Her gaze caught on Eden. And held. After a moment, she lifted her hand to wave. Eden felt as stiff and cold as metal, but she slipped her hand from her crossed arms to wave back.
The metal doors slammed open, and team members dribbled out in small groups. Eden strategically placed herself at the base of the stairs, prepared to bolt. Her mind was now in an intense battle between logic and fear. Surely Faith wouldn’t have stayed quiet at the pancake breakfast if Beckett were married. Would she? Then again, Eden knew less about Faith than she knew about Beckett. But Gabe, Gabe would never lead Eden astray. But Gabe was all about the game, not the guys. He probably wouldn’t even know if Beckett was married or not.
Still, it didn’t make sense for Beckett to have Eden meet him here if he’d known his wife and daughters would be there to greet him. Hell, maybe they were supposed to be out of town and were surprising him. Or maybe he did know they’d be here and this was his ploy to make his wife jealous.
Eden lifted a hand to her temple to stop the spin and whispered, “Or maybe it’s just his sister.”
She didn’t know anything anymore. All she could do was wait. Wait for this sand under her feet to completely shift and knock her on her ass or solidify into concrete.
Eden held her breath as another wave of men passed through the tunnel. And another. People said hello and joked and hugged and talked and made plans. Kids played and laughed. A couple of the guys who’d been at the YMCA said hello to Eden before jogging the steps to the parking lot. No weirdness there. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
She hadn’t counted, but she swore most of the players had to be out of there. Where in the hell was Beckett?
“I should leave,” she whispered to herself, glancing at the stairs with a fist gripping her gut. “I should go.”
The doors opened again, and Eden had convinced herself that if it wasn’t Beckett, she was leaving.
When she swung her gaze back, Beckett came through the door with Tate a couple of steps behind him. His gaze immediately homed in on Eden, and a big smile lit his face.
“There you are,” the woman said.
Beckett’s gaze darted toward her, then the three girls, and his momentum stopped dead. His smile faded into shock.
Eden sipped a breath and held it.
“Man, you’re still the last one out of the locker room,” the woman said. “Girls, he’s finally here.”
The three girls turned. The two older ones returned to the woman’s side, but the little one, the little one threw her arms in the air, yelled, “Daddy!” and ran full speed at Beckett.
Eden stood frozen as Beckett dropped his bag and caught the little girl with a grunt and “Jesus, Lily…”
Daddy?
Daddy.
Eden turned and hurried up the stairs. She wasn’t thinking, just moving. Away, away, away. No, no, no. How did this happen? How did this happen?
“Eden!”
Beckett’s bellow hammered her heart into overdrive, and she flinched, pulling her shoulders up and fisting her hands. She had to force herself not to run, but rushed along the fence line of the parking lot. With no idea where the hell she was going, she kept her focus on putting distance between her and Beckett and his family before her mind started working.
“Eden.” A woman’s voice startled her, but Eden didn’t stop moving. She was behind Eden, her footsteps quick. “Eden, wait.”
A hand touched her arm. Eden spun and backed away. “I’m sorry.” The words came out breathless. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t—”
“I’m not his wife,” she said, her expression as compassionate as her soft voice. “I’m his sister. Sarah.”
Relief swept through Eden. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed the chain-link fence to keep from falling and focused on the black pavement. “Oh, thank God.”
“And two of those girls are mine,” she said. “My daughters Rachel and Amy.”
Which meant…
In her mind, she saw that sweet little angel running to Beckett. Saw Beckett, in his slacks, dress shirt, and tie, hair still damp from the shower, drop his bag and catch the girl like he’d done it a million times.
A hard knot balled beneath her ribs. Eden lifted her head and looked at Sarah. “He has…a daughter.”
Sarah nodded. “Lily. She’s amazing. I’m so sorry we blindsided you like this. I didn’t know you were coming tonight, and I didn’t tell Beckett we were going to be here either. It was one of those last-minute things… God, I feel so bad…”
Lily.
Even her name broke Eden’s heart.
“It’s not your fault.” Eden released the fence. “I have to go.”
She turned.
“Eden, wait.” Sarah came around and stepped in front of her. “Don’t go. I’ll take the girls home. I promised them ice cream after anyway. You and Beckett can still—”
“No.” The word came out as a pained whisper. “No, we can’t.”
