Page 122 of Double Puck

"Beck—"

"I'm not doing it to punish anyone." He crosses back toward the bed, and sits on the edge. "I'm not storming off because I'm angry. Well, I'm a little angry. Mostly at the shrimp tower I never got to eat. That thing was incredible."

The joke lands and dies fast, because his face doesn't hold it.

Beck sits on the edge of the bed, spreading his knees as the robe slips open around his chest. My eyes follow the familiar trail down his body automatically, over thick muscle and golden skin, all the way to the belt knotted loosely at his waist.

Normally, that view would have me crawling straight back into his lap.

Tonight, it's his face that keeps me still.

Because underneath all that muscle and swagger, he suddenly looks tired.

Not physically tired.

Just tired of having everybody else run his life.

"I want to play hockey, Darcy. That's it. Tonight, I sat in a suit and watched my brothers get buried on national television, and I couldn't do a single thing about it. If this evaluation has taught me anything, it's that I've done a lot of watching in my life. Watching Zoey raise us. Watching Declan protect me. Watching everyone else figure out what Beck can handle." He lets his head fall in his hands as he sits on the edge of the mattress. "My whole life, somebody else has decided where I go and what I'm worth. But if I leave Beachside, then for once, it's going to be my choice."

And the horrible thing, the thing that I'm slowly coming to realize, is that I understand him.

Worse than that. I respect it.

Because I know exactly what it's like to spend your whole life executing other people's plans. He's finally doing the thing I've never been brave enough to do, and he's doing it in a fluffy robe at midnight in Las Vegas, and I have never felt so strongly about him more, or been more terrified in my life.

"That makes sense," I say quietly. "All of it. I hate that it makes sense."

He almost smiles. "First time anyone's ever accused me of making sense."

I set the water bottle on the nightstand and pull the sheet away.

Beck's eyes flick toward me as I crawl across the mattress, completely naked and far beyond caring about it. I settle onto my knees beside him, fold my legs beneath me and reach for his hands.

His fingers close around mine automatically.

For a second, I just look at him. At this ridiculous, beautiful man in his fluffy Bellagio robe who's finally figured out that he gets to choose what happens to his own life.

I'm so fucking proud of him.

But…

I'm also terrified of what he might choose.

“So, Beck… if your future isn't in Beachside anymore…” My voice cracks right down the middle. “Where does that leave us?”

Chapter 19

Beck

Iwake up and Darcy's wrapped around me like a very expensive octopus, one leg thrown over mine, her face buried against my chest.

She slept all night. Deep. Peaceful. Occasionally making this tiny snore she would absolutely deny under oath. Like a woman who finally said the thing she's been carrying for weeks.

Me? I'm staring at the ceiling of my suite at five in the morning, replaying one question on a loop.

Where does that leave us?

I didn't have an answer last night.