Beckett
I can’t believe this is happening. My life just seems to go from bad to worse. Leaning forward, I rest my head in my hands, the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table in front of me.
Fired. I've been fucking fired.
Though I’m not sure why it’s coming as a shock. It was my choice to date Viktor, and I’ve always known it could come out. I was completely aware of the university’s stance on relationships between staff and undergraduate students.
What I didn’t expect were the photos President Ghoram slid across his desk in our meeting this morning. Photos of me and Viktor at the club. In the alley. In my bed.
All sent to the university by Noah.
He’d been in Rosewood Bay longer than I realized, watching me. Watching Viktor. My fingers curl into fists in my hair.
That sick fuck took my job, my reputation, my chance to stay in the world of hockey. And he almost took Viktor from me too. The image of my brat sprinting into traffic, that truck bearing down on him, is seared into my brain.
Groaning, I scrub my hand over my face. Fuck, I need a drink. Well, another drink.
As I reach for the bottle, my phone buzzes on the cushion beside me. I grab it, hope flaring in my chest. Viktor’s been ignoring me, sending my calls to voicemail, leaving my texts unread.
But it's just Rinne, letting me know he’s outside.
I’m really not up for visitors right now, but he’s persistent.
Buzzing him into the building, I unlock the door, then drop back onto the couch.
“Hey, Harper,” he says quietly, shifting his weight awkwardly. “How you holding up?”
I quirk a brow as I stare at him, lifting the bottle of whiskey.
“That bad?” He drops into the armchair across from me, then grabs the bottle, taking a swig. “Fuck. I needed that.”
“Have the rest.”
Rinne eyes me for a long moment, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “How's your back?”
“Feels like someone's taken a rusty hacksaw to my spine. But what else is new?” I snag the whiskey bottle back and take a long pull. The burn gives me something to focus on besides the throbbing ache radiating up my back.
Rinne's brow furrows. “You thinking about starting PT? Might help, you know. Get ahead of it before it gets worse.”
I laugh, the sound bitter and brittle. “Sure, let me get right on that. It’s not like I just lost my insurance along with my job or anything.”
His mouth tightens, but he doesn't rise to the bait. “What about Viktor? Have you told him yet?”
Just the sound of my boyfriend’s name makes my throat close up. I shake my head, blinking hard against the sudden sting in my eyes. “He's not returning my calls or texts. I don't . . . Fuck, Rinne. I'm worried about him.”
“He skipped practice yesterday. And today.” There's something in his voice, a note of hesitation that makes my stomach clench.
“What?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Titans have a certain way of handling their business. Think Viktor went after your ex.”
I swear, the day of the incident he mentioned something about taking care of the problem, but the drugs had hit me hard. Thought I imagined it.
Except Walsh made it clear they killed their former coach, the one who’d assaulted Reed.
“What if something happened to him? What if he’s not answering because of Noah . . .” The words die off, my throat closing up.
Rinne grabs my shoulder, squeezing it. “Don’t think that’s the case, otherwise the rest of the three would be MIA as well. You really love him, don't you?”
