It’s just deeply unfair.
The door shuts, and I hear the shower starting.
And then, less than five seconds later?—
A strangled, guttural scream. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound.
“Beckett?” I call out, rushing toward the door. “Beckett, are you okay?”
Silence.
CONSEQUENCES
ASHLEY
Iknock on the bathroom door.
Still no answer.
“Beckett?” My voice sharpens despite myself.
The shower is still running. Steam curls out from under the door. I swear I hear something—breathing? Swearing?
My chest tightens.
“Beckett,” I say again, louder now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Nothing. Just the shower running and what definitely sounds like a low, pained groan.
My heartbeat kicks into a frantic rhythm, and I knock again—hard. “If you’re hurt, you need to tell me,” I say, breath coming quicker than I want it to. “I can’t help if you don’t say something.”
Finally, the door cracks open just enough for him to peer out.
His hair is wet. His face is tight, jaw clenched. Steam billows behind him like a crime scene.
“Uh,” he says. “So… last night. After?—”
Pain flashes across his face. At least I think it’s pain.
“After what?” I demand.
“I ran into Rocky,” he says quickly. “You know. One of Noah’s friends.”
“I know who Rocky is,” I snap. “Are you having a heart attack? Did you hit your head? Did you eat something bad?”
He blinks. “What? No.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
He winces, glancing away, and then reluctantly back at me. “There was a lot of whiskey involved.”
“I am aware you’re hungover,” I say flatly. “But you screamed, Beckett.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“You totally screamed.”
He exhales, scrubs a hand over his face. “Maybe. Anyway… Apparently, there’s a tattoo shop on board.”
