“What the fuck happened to you? Did you punch him?”
His tone’s not even accusatory. Growing up, their love language was fistfights. They told me Reed would instigate, Pierce would push it one step farther, and Liam would break it up. They would all end up with split lips and black eyes.
“Beckett’s got a concussion,” Pierce announces. He’s still standing by the door, like he’s not sure he wants to come all the way in. “And he’s severely dehydrated. They gave him an IV and a CT.”
“Yeah, okay, but what happened to your face?” Liam rounds the coffee table to get a better look at Pierce.
“Julius,” Pierce and I say together.
“And cherry meets cake…” Pierce starts, but gets interrupted by a groan as Liam checks out his nose.
Cake. I wonder where I can get yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Can I DoorDash that?
“Cherry on the cake,” Pierce resumes, slapping away Liam’s hand. “While he was getting a CT scan, he got a message from the GM. A two-game suspension and a $25,000 fine for Bugrov fight.”
Liam whistles. I cringe. Pierce would know exactly, but I think it’s my second suspension and my third fine. Ever.
“Okay, well, the fine’s not terrible. They’ll just deduct it from your pay. It’s not too bad.”
My stomach goes tight. I look between the two of them. Pierce masks his concern by being a little bitch, and Liam tries to play the cool peacekeeper.
“You get that’s like $200,000, right? It’s a two-game suspension, so I don’t get paid for two games. Plus the fine.”
“Well, your agent hasn’t called, so it’s not like you’re going to lose brand deals.”
“Didn’t you say,” I point at Pierce, “that we’re having money issues? $200,000 isn’t peanuts.”
He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Liam.
Another buzz interrupts me.
Ash:
Are you saying that we have cake for dinner? That doesn’t sound very responsible
I actually laugh. I look at Pierce and Liam, and I’m just done for now. I turn and walk straight down the hall to Pierce’s room, grabbing the first duffel I see. I yank open his closet and start shoving clothes into it. I don’t even know what I’m pulling out.
I turn, and Pierce is in the doorway, eyes wide with panic.
“Go stay at the hotel or something,” I say. “I haven’t checked out yet.” I drop the bag at his feet. I can see it all in his eyes; he’s scared, and that’s making him all bitchy and controlling. I clench my jaw. “Or go sleep on the ratty couch at the gym.”
Pierce laughs and falls into a familiar pattern. “Don’t be mean to the couch. You love that couch. That couch loves you. You remember the last time I bent you over that couch and…”
“Pierce,” I cut him off.
He reaches for my face, fingertips grazing my jaw, but I jerk away and slide around him.
“I love you, but I just can’t look at you right now.”
Liam backs up as I make my way down the hall to the kitchen, ignoring both of them.
Behind me, the front door slams. I grip the counter with both hands. This is what I wanted, what I asked for—distance, a second to think. But I can’t keep the static from my brain. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Liam drifting in. He circles the island and stops on the far side, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, non-threatening. He opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle, cracks the cap, and sets Gatorade in front of me.
I won’t admit it out loud, not to Pierce, not to Liam, not even to myself, but I’m scared. I’ve had concussions before. Never like this. The protocol’s drilled into my head. Don’t sleep alone, don’t push yourself. I did both. That was fucking dumb. And then… Ash.
I close my eyes, remembering the way Ash’s hands felt on my back. Her scent all over me, the sounds she made. No, that part wasn’t dumb. That part was fucking glorious.
