Chapter Twenty-Six
Beck
“You’ve got to go through their things, Beckett.” Aunt Tessa propped her elbows on the large mahogany desk that was more for show than work and put on her serious face which, considering her usual expression was already pretty serious, was quite a feat. “Until you do, I’m afraid you’ll never truly move on.”
“I’ve moved on,” I retorted. “To another state.”
Her forehead tried to furrow, but it was too full of Botox. I loved my aunt, and she was good to take in Megan, but she was more interested in getting back to her “real life,” where she didn’t have a teenager to take care of, and she could enjoy the money from the business without actually having to work for it. Then again, I was avoiding dealing with the company, so I couldn’t really talk.
“I have no idea what to do with everything,” I said.
“We need to at least box it up. I can help you later in the week if you’ll sort through it and get it labeled. Then, day after tomorrow, I set up a meeting with Mr. Hawthorne. He’ll go over any business measures that need your approval, and then you’ll meet up with the lawyer who insists his client has an urgent matter she needs to see you about.” Tessa rolled her neck from side to side. “You don’t have any illegitimate children I should know about, do you?”
“Not that I know of, obviously. But I’ve always been safe, so I’d be extremely surprised.” Of course now she had me thinking of every possible worst-case scenario. I supposed there was that one percent of the time condoms didn’t work. But I’d only slept with two girls before college, so the likelihood of one of them coming to me here instead of Boston was slim.
I sat back in the cushy leather chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. Our meeting had already lasted forty minutes, and each thing she’d said only got crappier. I didn’t think I could take much more. “Are we done here?”
“For now. As for your guest…”
Every nerve in my body prickled at her tone. “What about her?”
“She’s like your mother in a lot of ways. Free spirit with a cute style. Intrigued by your wealth and status. I’d hate to see you make the same mistake your father did. We both know how that turned out.”
“First of all, Lyla’s not like that. This is the first time she’s heard about any of this, and she doesn’t care about money.”
“Oh, Beckett.” She gave a what-a-naïve-idiot sigh. “Everyone cares about money.”
“Don’t worry about Lyla. She’s my friend, and she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“That’s exactly what your father said about your mom,” Aunt Tessa snarked. I leaned forward in my seat and she held up her hands. “No need to get defensive. I’m sure she’s a nice enough girl, but as the only adult in your life, I thought it was my job to tell you to be careful.”
“Well, it’s not. And my mom made some mistakes, but she wasn’t a bad person. If Dad forgave her, you should be able to.”
“It was much easier before her lover decided to start visiting her grave all the time. Now their affair is the talk at the club. At the office. I can hardly escape it.”
“Just think of my mom. She’s dead, and all anyone cares about is who she slept with.” I shot out of my chair and stormed out of the room, hot bursts of anger firing through my body. Why didn’t people mind their own fucking business? Just because their mistakes weren’t broadcast around town, they thought they were better than us.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been pissed at Mom for having an affair—there were still days I thought about it and got furious all over again. It wasn’t fair for her to expect me to keep it secret, either, and I hated that I ever had. We’d never talked about it—aside from the night when she told me she’d come clean to Dad and swore the affair was over. It wasn’t like I wanted to rehash it, but I suppose I’d expected her to apologize. At least she’d apologized to Dad—that was what really mattered. Once, I’d asked him how he could forgive her, and he’d patted me on the shoulder and said, Son, people make mistakes. When you love someone, there are times you have to be strong and work through issues together, no matter how hard it is.
I remember thinking it was a crappy deal on his side. That if love meant letting someone betray and hurt you and calling it strong, I’d rather be weak. I wanted to believe Mom had kept her word and that she and Dad were happy there at the end, but I wasn’t sure. The one thing I was sure about was that I wanted people to shut the hell up about it.
What I wouldn’t give to be in Boston right now, where I could hit the ice, shut out everything else, and get out the aggression suffocating my insides. But since I’d planned on spending my week focused on cardio, I didn’t have my gear, and any old skates I could use were at Mom and Dad’s. I was already going to have to face the house tomorrow, and I was too exhausted to deal with it tonight.
I glanced at the closed door to my room, thinking I could duck inside and try blasting music to fix my mood. But then I looked at Lyla’s door, and my feet automatically moved toward it instead. I lightly knocked and pushed my way inside.
Lyla was asleep on the bed, one of her textbooks open on her chest, her glasses still on. As quietly as possible, I crossed the room, removed the textbook and placed it on the side table, and then reached for her glasses.
The soft sigh that came from her lips made me pause and take her in. Her nose, her perfect lips. The spot in her cheek where the dimple would show up if she smiled. With Aunt Tessa, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. With Megan, I felt the need to be an example and make sure she was taken care of. Even with the guys on the hockey team, I was one of the captains and needed to be a leader.
With Lyla, everything was so easy, no added pressure. Maybe it was a mistake to pull her into this part of my world. I slid the glasses off her face and she stirred, her eyes fluttering. She reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the bed next to her.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Mmmm,” was her only response as she nuzzled in close, wrapping an arm around my chest and draping one of her legs over my thigh.
Everything seemed better now—like at least I could deal. My eyes drifted closed. I kept thinking I should get up, cover Lyla with a blanket, and go to my room, but I was so comfortable, and she smelled so damn good. So I soaked in how it felt to be next to her, and somewhere along the way, I fell asleep, too.
…
“It’ll be super boring,” I said, flopping onto the bed I’d left around three a.m., when I realized I’d accidentally spent most of the night with Lyla. It’d taken every ounce of energy I had to force myself away from her and into my cold, empty bed, and now I was thinking I was stupid for not staying and waking up next to her. Maybe I could’ve even joined her in the shower.
“Not if you’re there.” Lyla wrapped a scarf around the top of her head, knotted it, and slid it around so that the material made a headband, the ends of it mixing in with her red waves. “And definitely not if I’m there.”
True. But what if I started crying like a baby? Then I’d never be able to look her in the eye again. Still, Megan was off with friends, and while Tessa was home, after what she’d said yesterday, I didn’t exactly want Lyla to be alone with her. I stood and extended my hand. “Let’s do this, then.”
On the drive, as if she sensed I needed a mood lightener, Lyla sang along with the radio, the wrong lyrics coming out of her mouth about fifty percent of the time, as usual. When I teased her about it, she said, “The words I put in are way more interesting. You should be thanking me, not mocking me.”
“Is that right?”
“Totally.” Her eyes widened as we drove up to the tall, wrought iron gate. I punched in the code and pulled up to the house, trying to push away the unease crawling up my spine. “And I thought your aunt’s place was enormous.”
Tessa had asked me if I wanted to put it on the market—she complained that she was still paying the groundskeeper and maid service, and it was a huge waste. I told her to stop then, and I’d get it fixed up if and when I moved back in. Apparently it was ridiculous to let it get run-down, too, because then what would people think?
“I don’t deserve it,” I said as I took it in, the three expansive stories with the large paved driveway and manicured lawn.
Lyla turned in her seat to face me. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” I parked and started out of the car, but she grabbed my arm.
“Nope. You’ve got to explain now. Don’t make me start with the chemistry jokes or the cat pictures, because I’ll use cruel and unusual punishments to get you to talk. You know I will.”
Despite the situation, I cracked a smile. Then I leaned back in my seat. “People used to tell me that I was lucky. I got whatever I wanted, whether I deserved it or not. The fact is, it’s true. The only thing I worked really hard for was hockey, because I loved it, and all I ever wanted was to play for the Bruins. I worked for my grades, too, but only because Mom threatened to not let me play hockey if they slipped. But honestly, even they came pretty easily to me.” I glanced across the Land Rover at Lyla. “So now I own this huge house I don’t need, and I’m going to have an extremely successful company just handed over to me, and I want to deserve it.”
“But?”
“But I’m not sure I even want any of it.” I curled my hand around the bill of my hat, messing with it to give my hands something to do. “It’d probably be easy enough to hire someone to do my dad’s old job, but I feel like I’d be disappointing him. Working with him and then eventually taking over was always his dream for me.”
“You can’t live your entire life for someone else, though,” she said.
I let that hang in the air, trying to comfort myself with the idea. Unfortunately, it didn’t take away the guilt filling me at the thought of not taking over the company. “I’m willing to work hard, but I’m having trouble letting go of playing for the NHL. Which is probably just a dream anyway. I could give up my position in the company, work my ass off at hockey for two years, and still not make it.”
The truth slammed into me, and the spark of hope that maybe I could keep playing snuffed out. “No, I can’t risk it. What would I do for work, then? Who’d take care of Megan? Who’d make sure my family’s company runs the way my dad would’ve wanted it to?”
Lyla placed her hand over mine. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, Beck. Maybe you’ll find that you like working for the company, but I’m afraid that running it with no passion for it, or having to always wonder what if, is going to make you despise it. I’m sure that’s not what your dad would’ve wanted. Your sister obviously loves you and wants you to be happy, and I bet she’d want you to follow your dream as much as I do. That said, you’re more than just a hockey player, so if it doesn’t work out, it’s not like you’re not good at other things. And honestly, I think you should at least finish college either way. Give yourself more options. But maybe that’s because I’ve been preached to about getting a degree since I was five or so.”
“But your goal is to end up with a coveted spot in a company that will basically land in my lap. Even if you get promoted every few years, you’ll work your ass off and still only make a fraction of what I do. Doesn’t that make you hate me a little?”
“Now, what good would that do?” She laced her fingers with mine. “Maybe if I didn’t know you, it’d be easy to think that way. I’m sure your father worked hard, and I’m sure that whichever career you choose, you’ll throw yourself into it.”
“It’s the choosing that’s hard.”
“Duh, that’s life.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Duh?”
“You heard me.” She ran her fingers up my arm, and then they were drifting up, into the hair at the base of my neck—I could get lost in her touch. Just close my eyes and never deal with anything again. “When I look at you, you know what I see?”
I met her gaze, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.
“I see the guy who saw me when no one else did,” she said. “That’s what matters to me. That’s who you are. Not this house or your dad’s company, but a good guy who’s been there for me since I first met you.”
My heart expanded, pressing against my ribcage. “Anyone who doesn’t see you is an idiot, Lyla.”
I cupped her chin, tipping her face up so I had better access to her lips. Then I kissed her. It started out soft, but grew in urgency, her taking over one moment, and then me taking the lead the next. Back and forth, until she ended up on top of me, and the temperature in the car shot to sizzling.
As I peered into her eyes, at the green and the brown battling it out for control, I found myself wanting to take that next step with Lyla. If I did believe in relationships and love, Lyla would be the perfect girlfriend. Being with her like this made me want to take a risk. Make that leap of faith.
And as she slowly lowered her mouth to mine again, I decided that for her, maybe I could.