Beckett had this. He had it. If he could get this fucking Bruin’s right wing off his back.
With two minutes remaining in the tied game, Beckett swung behind the Bruins’ net. Leaning toward the pipe, he cut off the wing. The other man slid behind Beckett and came up on his right. Another Bruin came up on Beckett’s left.
He’d been slamming his heart out all goddamned game. He didn’t want to go into fucking overtime.
He passed to Kristoff, who did what the kid always did, the freaking magician, and faked two other Bruins, enabling him to pass to Hendrix. Who slapped the puck back to Beckett as he swung behind the net in the opposite direction.
Beckett saw a hole. Took a sharp turn. Flipped the puck over the goalie’s shoulder.
And scored.
Triumph surged through Beckett. The stadium roared to life. And he pumped his fist before his other four teammates closed around him for a group hug. They patted his helmet and congratulated each other on great work.
But when he returned to the bench, Tremblay didn’t look happy, and he didn’t offer his typical praise for a win either. And when the guys fell into line on their way to the locker room, Tremblay barked, “Beckett. My office. Now.”
Savage and Donovan frowned at Beckett. “What the fuck did you do?”
Beckett had no idea. He lifted his arms out to the side. “Nothin’.”
“Something happened off-ice during the second period,” Hendrix said. “Paul relayed a message, and Tremblay hasn’t been happy since.”
Fuck. Beckett handed off his stick, helmet, and gloves to Savage and made his way to Tremblay’s office, scouring his brain for something he could have done over the last twenty-four hours that would piss off his coach to this degree. But there had been nothing. Not even in the last week. Hell, not in the last month. He’d been a model hockey player, and this had been the best goddamned season of his career.
So when he stepped into Tremblay’s office where his coach paced and ordered Beckett to close the door, then into a seat, a sick knot formed in Beckett’s gut. He did as told, but his mind jumped to Lily. To his family. To Eden. To how his awesome life would fall apart if his coach had pulled him in to tell him he’d been traded…
Tremblay faced Beckett. “Tell me about Kim Dixon.”
Beckett’s mind skidded to a stop. Scrambled to make sense—
No fucking way.
“She’s a one-nighter from years ago,” Beckett said. “What about her?”
“She’s making much stronger accusations than being a one-night stand.”
Dread swamped Beckett like a flood. “Holy fuck.” He ran his hand over his mouth. “What is she saying?”
“That she is Lily’s mother. That she left the relationship because you were abusive. That you recently tried to pay her five million for full custody of Lily.”
“Whoa. Nothing after her being Lily’s mother is true. I never touched her after that night, I sure as shit never hurt her, and she met me at a café last week to tell me that she’d sign over custody of Lily if I paid her five million, not the other way around.”
“What about the abuse allegation? Ted’s going to go ballistic when he hears about this.”
The team’s owner was an extremely conservative man who monitored all the players’ behavior on and off the ice. One who wouldn’t put up with anyone tarnishing the team or the club’s name.
“It’s bullshit,” Beckett said, growing angry. “I’ve never hit or hurt a woman. I’ve got a mother, a sister, two nieces, and a daughter. You know me. You know I would never—”
“You were pretty wild in your younger days, Beck. And men do stupid things when they’ve had too much to drink and are overstimulated by a good or bad game.”
The statement hit Beckett in the gut. “I may have been a little wild, but I’ve never caused any trouble. Are you saying you believe that shit? After seven years with me? You believe I’m capable of that?”
Tremblay sighed. “No. I don’t. But I also don’t know how I’m going to convince Ted of that. So you’d better get this shit straightened out, because I can only do so much on your behalf. If this accusation doesn’t get cleared up, we both know you won’t be seeing an offer come July.”
“This is fucking bullshit.” Hurt blended with rage. Beckett stood, shoving the chair back so hard, it toppled. “I’ve played for you and Ted for seven fucking years. I’ve given you my all and more. Then one woman comes out with one lie, and I have to be the one to restore my credibility?” He stabbed a finger at the air. “That is bullshit.”
He walked out, letting the door swing wide and slam against the office wall. Livid. He was livid. Out of his mind furious. He’d spent a lifetime maintaining his integrity. He might have been wild for a few years, but no wilder than any college kid. And far less wild than most other athletes. How dare they question his credibility. And Kim. That bitch wanted to try to bully him into paying for their daughter? Fuck that. Fuck her.
He strode into the locker room with red hazing his vision. His heart beat in his ears. Sweat rolled down his face, his back, his arms. He opened his bag and pulled out his phone. Before he could dial Fred, a dozen messages popped up—texts and voice mails from his parents and Sarah as well as Fred.
Kim had purposely leaked this story while he’d been on the ice. That goddamned wicked—
“Henderson kicked her out.”
Donovan’s voice jerked Beckett from his misery. He turned his head and found his friend’s serious gaze on him. “What?”
“That’s why she pulled this stunt,” Donovan said, voice low, gaze cutting around the locker room before coming back to Beckett. “I called around. Henderson broke it off with her and tossed her ass out of his house. She’s living in a hotel. She must think this is her ticket to some fast cash.”
Beckett squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to keep his voice down. “That narcissistic bitch.”
Hendrix came out of the shower and dried his hair with a towel, then dropped it around his neck. “We all pay to play, Beck. It’s your turn.”
Beckett faced Hendrix, a guy he’d played with for four years. A guy whose family knew Beckett’s family. A guy he’d treated like a brother. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Hendrix shrugged. “Hey, relax. I’m just sayin’—”
“You’re sayin’ you think it’s true. You’re sayin’ that just because a woman goes on air and spews up bullshit that makes it truth.”
His teammate got a stupid look on his face and shrugged. “Well, they don’t go through all that for fun.”
“No, you idiot, they go through it for the money. And the manipulation. Jesus Christ, you’ve got your head up your ass.” Growing angrier by the second, he turned and found everyone in the locker room looking at him. He threw his arms wide. “Anyone else want to throw away all they know of me from working side by side for years over a single allegation from a gold digger?”
“Jesus, Beck,” Hendrix said, “relax—”
“Easy for you to say, isn’t it?” He swung back to face Hendrix. “You don’t have any kids at risk here, do you?”
That shut Hendrix up. In fact, it shut the whole locker room up.
In the silence, Beckett told everyone in the room at large, “In the future, if anyone here doubts my character, I’d appreciate it if you’d be man enough to bring up any issues you have to my face and not talk about me behind my back. That’s called respect, for those of you who like to gossip like little girls. I treat you with respect, and I expect you to treat me the same. If I find out you’re acting differently, we’ll take it outside, after hours. Am I clear?”
A combination of subdued “Yes, Cap,” “Affirmative, Cap,” “Clear, Cap,” rippled through the room, and the guys went about their business.
Beckett took his phone down the hall, where the team often extended their workouts and stored equipment. He dialed Sarah and paced.
“Hi,” she answered, her voice tense with fear.
“Has she contacted anyone in the family?” Beckett asked.
“No, but the media have tried, and they’re already outside, lining the streets in the neighborhood. But worse, Lily was coloring in the family room while we were watching the game, and when it came on, we were all so shocked, we didn’t turn it off before she heard too much.”
“Fuck.” His stomach rolled. He closed his eyes and braced himself. “I haven’t seen the news. How did she take it?”
“Um…not well. She translated what she heard into the fear that Kim was coming to take her back and seriously freaked out. Like, full-on panic-attack freaked out. I’ve never seen her like that.”
Beckett’s heart broke for his daughter. “Does she need to go to the ER?”
“There were moments when we considered taking her, but we talked her down to a lower ledge, and the girls distracted her with games. But I do think you’re going to have to take her to the doctor tomorrow. She’s living in this jumpy state of terror, clinging to everyone. It’s even worse than after Kim abandoned her last year.”
A sound choked out of Beckett’s throat, and tears stung his eyes. “Goddammit.” He took a breath. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He hung up, rattled by his fury. An entire year of consistency and finesse and patience and therapy ground to dust in minutes simply because Kim wasn’t getting her way.
Beckett really had to work to collect all his rage before he dialed Eden. She didn’t answer, which didn’t surprise him. He knew she was working tonight. When her voice mail picked up, he soaked in the sound of her voice. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed her support until right now. How badly he wanted to hear her tell him it would all work out, that he wouldn’t lose Lily or his contract or the respect of his team over this out-of-the-blue, unsubstantiated lie until he’d heard her voice.
“Hey, it’s me,” he told the recorder. “I know you’re probably busy as hell, but if you get a few minutes free, could you call me? I could really use to hear your voice tonight, and I need to talk something over with you. It doesn’t matter how late. Thanks. Bye.”
Then he lowered his phone, took a breath, and dialed Fred with a murmured, “Time to let the dogs out.”
Eden sat on the corner of her bed with her phone in her hands. She was still in her uniform and really wanted to drop back and fall asleep. Work had given her two hours of rest, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Beckett and this damn scandal since she’d heard of it in the ER. She’d heard his message around eleven p.m. the night before but hadn’t felt ready to return the call without more information, which, of course, she hadn’t had time to dig up. Until this morning.
And she still found herself caught in limbo. Because from what she’d been able to find out about the situation, both Kim’s version of the story and Beckett’s version of the story were credible. As a woman who’d been abused and been made to feel like it had been her fault, Eden felt a certain obligation to take every woman’s abuse allegation at face value.
Only, in this case, that meant doubting a man she’d fallen in love with at some point over the last few weeks. A man who’d given her the safety and belief she’d needed to take another chance at life.
She pressed one palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. God, she was so confused.
A knock on her door brought her head up. “Eden?”
Beckett’s voice shot a jolt of fear through her. Then she immediately felt guilty over the knee-jerk response. Still, her belly tightened as she stood and moved to the door—and not in the excited way it usually did in anticipation of seeing Beckett.
She opened the door, and he turned from staring at the street. The look on his face broke her heart. His eyes were dull and pained. His handsome features etched with fatigue and misery. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt under a hooded sweat jacket, and his shoulders were hunched against the cold.
“Oh, Beckett…” She stepped out and gripped handfuls of his jacket. “Are you okay?”
He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his face to her hair. “What a fucking mess.”
His voice was heavy and rough and turned Eden inside out. He smelled clean and male and familiar, and the thought of losing him tore her apart.
“Where’s Lily?” Eden asked.
“My parents’.” He loosened his arms and looked down at her. “The media is everywhere, even at her school. I couldn’t send her even if she wanted to go, which she doesn’t because she’s scared Kim’s going to take her away.”
Eden’s gut twisted, and she pressed a hand to the pain. “Do you want to come in?”
He shook his head. “I need to get back to Lily. I just wanted to see you. You didn’t call me back. You must have had a busy night.”
Eden nodded, and Beckett pulled her close again, holding her as if drawing energy from her. God, her heart ached. And her mind warred, one side trying to convince her she could love him even if Kim’s story was true, because he really was a different man now. But another side told her she was being stupid and weak and opening herself up to being a victim again.
“Is it true?” The forces battling inside her pushed the words from her mouth.
He pulled back, his eyes clouded with confusion. “What?”
“Any of what Kim is saying?”
A flash of disbelief traveled through his eyes a split second before an indefinable sharpness hardened his expression. His hands tightened on her arms. “Are you asking me if I tried to buy Lily from her? Or are you asking me if I hit her?” He paused only a second. “Or are you asking both?”
The anger in his eyes unnerved her. “It was a long time ago. You were a different man, you said so yourself. People have different ways of seeing things. Maybe you don’t even remember it happening that way—”
He dropped his hands from her arms. “Because it didn’t happen that way.”
His bark made her flinch, and he took one big, deliberate step away.
Panic flared in Eden’s gut. “Beckett—”
“You know me,” he said, pained, serious, and angry. “You know who I am, Eden. I opened my entire life up to you. You met my family. You’ve seen me with my daughter.”
Shame leaked into the mess of emotions eddying inside her. “I can’t just ignore—” She let the rest of her words evaporate on her exhale, knowing he’d take them wrong while he was so upset. “Can you come in just for a few minutes? Can we talk about this? I really want to talk about this.”
“What’s the point? There’s nothing I could show you that you haven’t already seen. Nothing I could say to you that you haven’t already heard. You already know me. You of all people— How could you possibly think—” He shook his head and lifted a hand toward her. “Never mind. I don’t even want to know.”
So much hurt and disappointment filled his voice, his expression, it tore at Eden’s gut. “Beckett, please—”
He turned toward the street. “Good-bye, Eden.”
He took the stairs to the sidewalk in two big steps. Before Eden had recovered from the blow of good-bye, Beckett was in his car, pulling away from the curb.
And gone from her life as quickly as he’d entered.
