“Thatwas your choice, Paige. Even Beckett won’t keep banging his head against theice to get your attention.”
Squirming,Paige rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Well, he’s probably on to samplingthe next flavor of the week anyway.”
“Idon’t see anything about him on social media these days, unless it’s the teamposting some community event he’s involved in. Nothing like the old days whenall the pictures seemed to capture him at his bad-boy best.” Gwenn paused abeat. “You know, you act as though he two-timed you.”
“Oh, myfavorite GEICO commercial!”
“Don’tchange the subject,” Gwenn warned.
“Well,he never cheated that I know of, but we were only together for ten or so days.He didn’t have time to hook up with anyone else.”
Gwennmade a buzzing noise. “Wrong. You only had sex for ten or so days. Youwere together more like seven or eight months.”
“Butthat was just friends.”
“Don’tkid yourself, sweetie.”
“Areyou defending him?”
“Someonehas to. Seriously, Paige. You know I love you, but you dumped him withoutgiving him a chance, and frankly, from where I sit, he did nothing wrong. Youbelieved Psycho Bitch, a crazy ho with zero credibility.”
“Whatabout his past?”
“Whatabout it? It’s the past. Can’t people change?”
Whitepom-poms pulsed in the background to the roar of the cheering crowd as theplayers lined up for the first puck drop. Paige blew out a breath, grateful toturn her attention elsewhere. That way she could ignore the budding fear thatshe’d made the biggest mistake of her life.
“Timeto watch the game, Gwenn,” she growled. Sheesh. Sometimes she loved thatGwenn knew her so well, but at other times it bugged the crap out of her.
Theywatched together and didn’t discuss Beckett unless it was to marvel at a hit ora solid defensive play. He worked in the top-four rotation, quarterbacked thepower play, and took shifts on the penalty kill, logging almost twenty-twominutes. Paige’s heart galloped whenever he took the ice. He was a beast; heplayed his heart out.
But itwasn’t enough, and the Flyers were eliminated.
A whilelater, Paige screwed up her courage and sent him a text. Sorry about theloss. His reply was swift and curt: Thx.
Shesearched her brain for another attempt. Must sting. Am I sending this 2soon?
Or 2late, came hisnext reply.
Therebuke sank its fangs into her heavy heart. Let him lick his wounds. Shechecked her phone frequently, but heard nothing more from him that night.
Or thefollowing week.
Or theweek after that.
Paigefloated Beckett a few texts that month, hopeful he’d come roaring back into herlife, but his answers, when he sent them, were as terse as the final night ofhis season. How r u? she ventured once. Ok illuminated her screencountless hours later. Still in Philly? was met with No, while Wherer u? got no response whatever. Eventually, she stopped—his monosyllabicretorts hurt worse than his silence. Nonetheless, he occupied her waking anddreaming thoughts. Was he in Denver? Wouldn’t he have called her? Not ifhe’s with someone else.
Questionsand doubts gnawed at her until she couldn’t stand not knowing, so one eveningshe picked up her phone and stared at it, channeling her courage. Sucking in abreath, she swiped his number and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heartjackhammered her ribs. Please answer, please answer, please answer.
It wentto voicemail.
“Um,hi, Beck. It’s Andie. I haven’t heard from you, so I thought I’d call and seehow you’re doing.”
Shecleared her sticky throat. “I, ah, want to … to apologize for … for beingunfair to you. I misjudged you. I didn’t listen. Friends don’t do that. Ididn’t trust you—or myself—when I should have. I want …”
Iwant to pull you close. I want your big body folded all around me, holding me,where it’s safe and warm. Where I feel cherished. Where I can let myself go.
There’dbeen a time when she couldn’t have admitted any of it aloud—especially to him.Was that pride? But he was the one. She got that now. And he was gone. Screwpride.
“Oh,Beck. It’s probably too late, but I’ll say it anyway. I love you. So much. Youtake my breath away. No one’s ever made me feel the way you do. I know now you’rewhat I’ve been looking for my whole life. You’re Plan A and B. The wholealphabet. I never wanted to admit it before, admit that I’m just like everyother woman who falls for you, but it’s true. I don’t care about holding backanymore, about ‘proper’ timelines. To hell with it all.” Her breath hitched,and she paused to fight the quaver in her voice. “You’re my heart, Beck. I madea huge mistake, and I miss you. Every second of every day.”
Shetossed back water, soothing her parched mouth. “I would do anything to make itup to you, to hear you say you forgive me.”
Alittle sob escaped her, and a recorded voice told her she was about to run outof message space. “I have so much to say to you, and I hope you’ll call so Ican tell you. But if I don’t hear back, I’ll understand. I’ll know I’m toolate.”
On pinsand needles the rest of that night, clinging to her stubbornly silent phone,her hopes dwindled with each tick of the clock. When she awoke the nextmorning, she lunged for the device. Nothing.
He’dgiven her his answer.
Hollow,numb, she stared at the ceiling. This entire time, she thought she’d beensafeguarding her heart, but all she’d accomplished in the end was to take thehammer and smash it herself.
.~ * * * ~.
“Where you headed, boss?” Katie asked the next morning asPaige pulled on her coat.
“I’mpicking up some sample books, then heading to the Clayton Street house.”
A latespring snow had blanketed Denver overnight, and the sun had turned it into agiant glitter blanket. Paige parked across the street from her latest project,its clean lines swelling her with pride. She stood beside her truck, her faceupturned like a daisy, taking in lungfuls of fresh, crisp air. For an instant,a peace that had eluded her for months touched her heart.
Shewalked around her truck, crushing snow under her boots. It made a gratifying,squeaky noise. On her backseat lay stacked sample books of varying awkwardshapes, and as she
