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“Yeah?”

“I was just going to tell you that your sister told me that your issue with the Jazz had to do with her.”

I stare at him. “She…said that?”

“She did. And she was about to tell me the whole story, but I stopped her,” Beckett says. “First, I’m not surprised that you were standing up for her. But second, I don’t need the story.”

“You don’t?” Sutton asks.

“No.” Beckett meets my gaze. “I know you. I know who you are. I don’t need to know about your past to know you’re a good guy. That story doesn’t matter.” He extends his hand. “Sorry that I made it matter before.”

Stunned, I reach out and shake his hand. “Thanks, Beckett.”

He nods. “You kept the story to yourself for a reason. I assume to protect your sister. I respect that, and don’t need to change that.”

“Thank you. It’s really more her story to tell,” I say.

“Well, we’re good.”

“Oh my God!” Now it’s my sister who comes rushing out of Perks and Rec. “There you are!”

She walks very quickly, even with her forearm crutch, and she stops right in front of Beckett and then balances so she can plant her hands on her hips. “I am going to tell you the rest of the story!”

“I don’t need it,” he insists. “It’s important that I’m making this gesture! I like Lawson no matter what happened in New Orleans.”

“Well, great,” Lydia says. “But I want you to know that my boyfriend, who was a teammate of Lawson’s, recorded us having sex and then uploaded the video to an amateur porn site. All without my consent. Or knowledge. Until other teammates told me.”

Oh.

God.

Of course she would just blurt it out like that. Now both Beckett and Sutton know.

I turn to look at Sutton first.

She looks appalled.

Then I look at Beckett.

He looks… murderous.

He turns toward me slowly. “And you found out, beat the shit out of him, put him in the hospital, and threatened his life if he ever came near your sister again?”

I simply nod. “Yes.” That’s the long and short of it.

“Good,” Beckett says shortly. He looks at Lydia. “Is the guy in jail? He’s not, right? I would have heard about a Jazz player going to jail for that.”

“He’s not,” Lydia says.

I sigh.

“Why the fuck not?” Beckett asks.

She shrugs. “The cops very clearly doubted that it was nonconsensual. We had been dating, publicly, for nearly six months. Everyone, including me, thought we were in love. He claimed someone else uploaded the video. All kinds of shit. My attorney said that his being a famous athlete would make prosecution harder. His attorney wanted to settle for him deleting the video and paying me off. Then…”

“Then I nearly killed him,” I say. “I made it all worse.”

Beckett frowns. “I suppose he threatened to charge you with assault.”