by Skye Jordan
Feeling the way she was feeling while dressed the way she was dressed, entrusted with the responsibility she was entrusted with, made her feel like a fraud. Like a sheep in a superwoman’s clothing.
Eden pressed her eyes closed, breathed deep, and forced the insecurities from her mind. She exited the bathroom, and checked on Margaret. When she found that the doctors had her stabilized, Eden wandered toward the exit. But Tori had stopped at one of the last empty ER exam rooms and stood at the open door, staring up at the television in the corner.
“I’m ready,” she said behind Tori. When her partner glanced over her shoulder, the look on Tori’s face tightened Eden’s stomach. “What?”
Tori stepped farther into the room and gestured to the television. “Beckett.”
Eden’s first emotion was fear. Fear he’d been hurt in his game. The channel was tuned to NHL, and Beckett’s team headshot was on the screen. Another photo had been posted opposite Beckett’s, one of a gorgeous brunette. The headline underneath read: Croft’s Former Girlfriend Alleges Abuse.
Eden’s stomach chilled. She crossed her arms. “Can you turn it up?”
Tori picked up the remote off the empty bed and raised the volume.
“…they evidently have a child together,” one newscaster was telling another, “a daughter Croft has had custody of for nearly a year now. Croft has kept that very quiet, and you’ve got to wonder why.”
Eden’s stomach coiled with tension.
“We’ve discovered a custody case filed with the courts,” the other newscaster went on, “that shows Croft is going for full custody of the child. The woman in this case, Kim Dixon, is currently living with Raider running back Henderson Mitchell. She alleges that while seeing Croft six years ago, he was abusive. When she found out she was pregnant, she broke off the relationship because she feared for the child’s safety.”
“No.” Eden shook her head.
“Of course,” the sportscaster continued, “this story just broke, and comment from Beckett Croft will have to wait as he is currently battling the Boston Bruins, and arguably playing one of the best games of his season. This wouldn’t be the first time a sports figure became violent off the field or, in this case, off the ice. That said, Croft has no history of violence, and Dixon herself admits she never reported the abuse, though she does have this photo from a trip to the emergency room after an alleged fight with Croft while they were dating.”
The brunette’s beautiful face was replaced with one taken in a hospital gown. The sight of her injuries made Eden pull in a sharp breath. She had a cut and swollen lip, a bruised and swollen eye, cuts on her cheekbone and her brow. And what looked like fingerprints ringing her neck.
“Shit,” Tori whispered, her hand lifting to her own throat.
“More recently,” the first newscaster said, “Dixon reports that after allowing Croft the chance to get to know his daughter, he is now trying to take her from Dixon by claiming she is an unfit mother. Dixon met with Croft the other day at a café in DC to discuss their custody arrangement. Dixon claims Croft tried to buy her off, offering her five million dollars to sign over full custody of their daughter. She provided this photo as proof of that meeting.”
The headshots vanished, and an image of Beckett sitting across the table from Kim appeared. By the cut, style, and length of Beckett’s hair, Eden thought it looked like a recent photo. He was wearing his jersey, something he did only for events…
Her mind darted backward to the YMCA charity drive. To him wearing his jersey that day. And Eden scanned the photo again. Her gaze slid down his outstretched arm and his hand holding the file folder, and held on the red bracelet around his wrist.
This photo had been taken after he’d left her bed. After he’d dropped her off at Union Station. A stab of betrayal pinched her gut before she could institute rationale to stop it. He’d told her he had something he had to do that afternoon. What he had to do hadn’t been any of her business.
Unless he’d been lying to her this whole time. Unless he was capable of abusing a woman. Neither of which she’d believed possible. But Eden saw things in the street every day she’d never believed possible. She’d never believed John capable of hatred and abuse and ultimately murder. She’d never believed her parents capable of betrayal and abandonment. She’d never believed herself capable of standing strong against the most important people in her life, walking away from it all, and starting over with nothing.
She might not want to believe Beckett was capable of abusing a woman, but he’d said himself that he’d been a very different man when he’d been dating Kim, and that finding out about Lily had changed him. In fact, Eden was pretty sure he’d called himself a selfish prick.
Eden crossed her arms tighter, confusing the hell out of herself.
“Eden?”
Tori’s voice dragged her back. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “I…don’t know.”
“Did you know about her?”
“Yes.” Eden looked at the screen again, where the image of Beckett and Kim at the café stole her attention. He had an envelope in his hand, and he was offering it to Kim, whose expression and mannerisms clearly demonstrated she didn’t want whatever was in it. “But his version of events is very different from these. He said Kim told him about Lily to get child support. He said he had to fight her for partial custody, and that she abandoned Lily on Beckett’s doorstep a year ago. I didn’t know about this meeting. I don’t know anything about a deal. And he certainly didn’t say anything about her abuse allegation. He said they had a one-night stand, and that was it.”
“What do you believe?”
Him. She believed him. Everything in her gut told Eden that Beckett was the real deal, from the way he cared for his daughter to the way he loved his teammates.
But her gut had been wrong before. She was, admittedly, terrible at seeing through lies and facades, especially when they involved a man she cared about.
“I…” The pain in her chest made her grimace. “I don’t—”
Their pagers went off.
Tori ripped hers off her belt. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Eden released a breath and turned from the room. “Let’s go.” She pushed the gurney toward the exit. “I’m going to have to stay busy tonight.”
21
Beckett had this. He had it. If he could get this fucking Bruin’s right wing off his back.
With two minutes remaining in the tied game, Beckett swung behind the Bruins’ net. Leaning toward the pipe, he cut off the wing. The other man slid behind Beckett and came up on his right. Another Bruin came up on Beckett’s left.
He’d been slamming his heart out all goddamned game. He didn’t want to go into fucking overtime.
He passed to Kristoff, who did what the kid always did, the freaking magician, and faked two other Bruins, enabling him to pass to Hendrix. Who slapped the puck back to Beckett as he swung behind the net in the opposite direction.
Beckett saw a hole. Took a sharp turn. Flipped the puck over the goalie’s shoulder.
And scored.
Triumph surged through Beckett. The stadium roared to life. And he pumped his fist before his other four teammates closed around him for a group hug. They patted his helmet and congratulated each other on great work.
But when he returned to the bench, Tremblay didn’t look happy, and he didn’t offer his typical praise for a win either. And when the guys fell into line on their way to the locker room, Tremblay barked, “Beckett. My office. Now.”
Savage and Donovan frowned at Beckett. “What the fuck did you do?”
Beckett had no idea. He lifted his arms out to the side. “Nothin’.”
“Something happened off-ice during the second period,” Hendrix said. “Paul relayed a message, and Tremblay hasn’t been happy since.”
Fuck. Beckett handed off his stick, helmet, and gloves to Savage and made his way to Tremblay’s office
, scouring his brain for something he could have done over the last twenty-four hours that would piss off his coach to this degree. But there had been nothing. Not even in the last week. Hell, not in the last month. He’d been a model hockey player, and this had been the best goddamned season of his career.
So when he stepped into Tremblay’s office where his coach paced and ordered Beckett to close the door, then into a seat, a sick knot formed in Beckett’s gut. He did as told, but his mind jumped to Lily. To his family. To Eden. To how his awesome life would fall apart if his coach had pulled him in to tell him he’d been traded…
Tremblay faced Beckett. “Tell me about Kim Dixon.”
Beckett’s mind skidded to a stop. Scrambled to make sense—
No fucking way.
“She’s a one-nighter from years ago,” Beckett said. “What about her?”
“She’s making much stronger accusations than being a one-night stand.”
Dread swamped Beckett like a flood. “Holy fuck.” He ran his hand over his mouth. “What is she saying?”
“That she is Lily’s mother. That she left the relationship because you were abusive. That you recently tried to pay her five million for full custody of Lily.”
“Whoa. Nothing after her being Lily’s mother is true. I never touched her after that night, I sure as shit never hurt her, and she met me at a café last week to tell me that she’d sign over custody of Lily if I paid her five million, not the other way around.”
“What about the abuse allegation? Ted’s going to go ballistic when he hears about this.”
The team’s owner was an extremely conservative man who monitored all the players’ behavior on and off the ice. One who wouldn’t put up with anyone tarnishing the team or the club’s name.
“It’s bullshit,” Beckett said, growing angry. “I’ve never hit or hurt a woman. I’ve got a mother, a sister, two nieces, and a daughter. You know me. You know I would never—”
“You were pretty wild in your younger days, Beck. And men do stupid things when they’ve had too much to drink and are overstimulated by a good or bad game.”
The statement hit Beckett in the gut. “I may have been a little wild, but I’ve never caused any trouble. Are you saying you believe that shit? After seven years with me? You believe I’m capable of that?”
Tremblay sighed. “No. I don’t. But I also don’t know how I’m going to convince Ted of that. So you’d better get this shit straightened out, because I can only do so much on your behalf. If this accusation doesn’t get cleared up, we both know you won’t be seeing an offer come July.”
“This is fucking bullshit.” Hurt blended with rage. Beckett stood, shoving the chair back so hard, it toppled. “I’ve played for you and Ted for seven fucking years. I’ve given you my all and more. Then one woman comes out with one lie, and I have to be the one to restore my credibility?” He stabbed a finger at the air. “That is bullshit.”
He walked out, letting the door swing wide and slam against the office wall. Livid. He was livid. Out of his mind furious. He’d spent a lifetime maintaining his integrity. He might have been wild for a few years, but no wilder than any college kid. And far less wild than most other athletes. How dare they question his credibility. And Kim. That bitch wanted to try to bully him into paying for their daughter? Fuck that. Fuck her.
He strode into the locker room with red hazing his vision. His heart beat in his ears. Sweat rolled down his face, his back, his arms. He opened his bag and pulled out his phone. Before he could dial Fred, a dozen messages popped up—texts and voice mails from his parents and Sarah as well as Fred.
Kim had purposely leaked this story while he’d been on the ice. That goddamned wicked—
“Henderson kicked her out.”
Donovan’s voice jerked Beckett from his misery. He turned his head and found his friend’s serious gaze on him. “What?”
“That’s why she pulled this stunt,” Donovan said, voice low, gaze cutting around the locker room before coming back to Beckett. “I called around. Henderson broke it off with her and tossed her ass out of his house. She’s living in a hotel. She must think this is her ticket to some fast cash.”
Beckett squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to keep his voice down. “That narcissistic bitch.”
Hendrix came out of the shower and dried his hair with a towel, then dropped it around his neck. “We all pay to play, Beck. It’s your turn.”
Beckett faced Hendrix, a guy he’d played with for four years. A guy whose family knew Beckett’s family. A guy he’d treated like a brother. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Hendrix shrugged. “Hey, relax. I’m just sayin’—”
“You’re sayin’ you think it’s true. You’re sayin’ that just because a woman goes on air and spews up bullshit that makes it truth.”
His teammate got a stupid look on his face and shrugged. “Well, they don’t go through all that for fun.”
“No, you idiot, they go through it for the money. And the manipulation. Jesus Christ, you’ve got your head up your ass.” Growing angrier by the second, he turned and found everyone in the locker room looking at him. He threw his arms wide. “Anyone else want to throw away all they know of me from working side by side for years over a single allegation from a gold digger?”
“Jesus, Beck,” Hendrix said, “relax—”
“Easy for you to say, isn’t it?” He swung back to face Hendrix. “You don’t have any kids at risk here, do you?”
That shut Hendrix up. In fact, it shut the whole locker room up.
In the silence, Beckett told everyone in the room at large, “In the future, if anyone here doubts my character, I’d appreciate it if you’d be man enough to bring up any issues you have to my face and not talk about me behind my back. That’s called respect, for those of you who like to gossip like little girls. I treat you with respect, and I expect you to treat me the same. If I find out you’re acting differently, we’ll take it outside, after hours. Am I clear?”
A combination of subdued “Yes, Cap,” “Affirmative, Cap,” “Clear, Cap,” rippled through the room, and the guys went about their business.
Beckett took his phone down the hall, where the team often extended their workouts and stored equipment. He dialed Sarah and paced.
“Hi,” she answered, her voice tense with fear.
“Has she contacted anyone in the family?” Beckett asked.
“No, but the media have tried, and they’re already outside, lining the streets in the neighborhood. But worse, Lily was coloring in the family room while we were watching the game, and when it came on, we were all so shocked, we didn’t turn it off before she heard too much.”
“Fuck.” His stomach rolled. He closed his eyes and braced himself. “I haven’t seen the news. How did she take it?”
“Um…not well. She translated what she heard into the fear that Kim was coming to take her back and seriously freaked out. Like, full-on panic-attack freaked out. I’ve never seen her like that.”
Beckett’s heart broke for his daughter. “Does she need to go to the ER?”
“There were moments when we considered taking her, but we talked her down to a lower ledge, and the girls distracted her with games. But I do think you’re going to have to take her to the doctor tomorrow. She’s living in this jumpy state of terror, clinging to everyone. It’s even worse than after Kim abandoned her last year.”
A sound choked out of Beckett’s throat, and tears stung his eyes. “Goddammit.” He took a breath. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He hung up, rattled by his fury. An entire year of consistency and finesse and patience and therapy ground to dust in minutes simply because Kim wasn’t getting her way.
Beckett really had to work to collect all his rage before he dialed Eden. She didn’t answer, which didn’t surprise him. He knew she was working tonight. When her voice mail picked up, he soaked in the sound of her voice. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed he
r support until right now. How badly he wanted to hear her tell him it would all work out, that he wouldn’t lose Lily or his contract or the respect of his team over this out-of-the-blue, unsubstantiated lie until he’d heard her voice.
“Hey, it’s me,” he told the recorder. “I know you’re probably busy as hell, but if you get a few minutes free, could you call me? I could really use to hear your voice tonight, and I need to talk something over with you. It doesn’t matter how late. Thanks. Bye.”
Then he lowered his phone, took a breath, and dialed Fred with a murmured, “Time to let the dogs out.”
Eden sat on the corner of her bed with her phone in her hands. She was still in her uniform and really wanted to drop back and fall asleep. Work had given her two hours of rest, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Beckett and this damn scandal since she’d heard of it in the ER. She’d heard his message around eleven p.m. the night before but hadn’t felt ready to return the call without more information, which, of course, she hadn’t had time to dig up. Until this morning.
And she still found herself caught in limbo. Because from what she’d been able to find out about the situation, both Kim’s version of the story and Beckett’s version of the story were credible. As a woman who’d been abused and been made to feel like it had been her fault, Eden felt a certain obligation to take every woman’s abuse allegation at face value.
Only, in this case, that meant doubting a man she’d fallen in love with at some point over the last few weeks. A man who’d given her the safety and belief she’d needed to take another chance at life.
She pressed one palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. God, she was so confused.
A knock on her door brought her head up. “Eden?”
Beckett’s voice shot a jolt of fear through her. Then she immediately felt guilty over the knee-jerk response. Still, her belly tightened as she stood and moved to the door—and not in the excited way it usually did in anticipation of seeing Beckett.
