Getting Lucky Number Seven (18 page)

“Yeah, my parents, too—they weren’t big fans of the shortened version, actually. But I was always Beck to everyone else.”

“So that’s what you prefer? Or do I get to call you Beckett sometimes?”

One corner of his mouth twisted up, and then he drew me closer and nipped at my bottom lip. “You, Lyla Wilder, can call me anything you want.”

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.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lyla

Beck didn’t say much as we went through the rooms of the house, each of them stunning and richly decorated. Not that he seemed to notice or care. His movements were mechanical, precise, and carefully devoid of emotion. But I could feel everything he was holding back, as if it were a living, breathing entity that wanted to wrap its arms around Beck and hold him down until he cracked.

As he sorted the things he wanted to keep from the items Tessa would have movers come in and box up, I helped the best I could. Mostly by keeping the music going and chatting about classes or cats or movies or basically anything I could think of so the silence didn’t overwhelm either one of us. Twice Beck had told me he needed to go check on something, and the thickness in his voice told me he was struggling with his emotions.

When we took a late lunch break that probably was closer to dinner, I noticed the large cement court with netted goals on either end. It looked out of place compared to the flowers, shaped hedges, and large pool. “Did you play street hockey, too?”

Beck came up behind me and put his hand on my back, his gaze focused on the court through the patio doors. “When I wasn’t on the ice, I played street hockey. I knew I needed to practice as much as possible if I wanted to be good enough to compete at the college level. I think I spent more time out there than in here, actually.”

I twisted to face him. “Let’s play.”

“Hockey?”

I nodded, excitement bubbling up—this was what we both needed. “Ice hockey intimidates me—I’ve only ice skated a couple of times—but when it comes to rollerblades, I’m pretty good.” I frowned. “Of course, I didn’t think of bringing them with me.”

“I bet Megan has some in her closet. If you really want to play.”

“I think we need a break. And what better way to get that, than for me to beat you at hockey on your own court?”

Beck grinned—the first real grin I’d seen since we’d stepped foot in the house. He took my hand and led me to Megan’s room. We found a pair of skates that were a bit tight in the toes, but not so much I couldn’t make do, and then we headed down the hall.

“Ooh, I can’t believe I’m in Beckett Davenport’s bedroom,” I said as we stepped through the doorway. “If these walls could talk…” Suddenly I realized I might not want to know what they’d say.
Way to go, Lyla. Make him happy and then immediately go into awkward land.

But Beck just smiled at me from his crouched position in front of his closet. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought in here, actually. There was a rule about no members of the opposite gender in the bedroom. My mom spent a lot of time helping run a charity for low-income families in Concord during the day, as well as plenty of time at the spa, shopping, and going to lunches, but she always made sure to be here when Megan and I got home from school. Mostly she was in her office, focused on her laptop, but she had this freaky sixth sense when it came to knowing I had a girl over and was thinking of breaking the rule.”

He seemed to be lost in reverie for a moment, but then his eyes refocused, the happiness in his features fading quickly. He returned his attention to the closet, so I took the chance to look around and see if I could figure out what high-school-Beck was like.

Hockey posters lined the walls—no surprise there. I leaned closer to the two framed pictures on the dresser. A team photo with Beck in the middle, his cute face easy to spot in the crowd, and one of him alone in his uniform, early high school years from the looks of it. His grin showed off braces.

“Just when I’d come up with the perfect plan to sneak in my girlfriend so we could”—Beck made air quotes—“‘take things to the next level,’ she decided to leave me for Dale Buchanan. He played polo.”

I turned away from the line of trophies I was studying. “Polo? Is that supposed to be more impressive than hockey?”

“Apparently it’s classier.”

Beck came up with a pair of skates and two hockey sticks. I stared at my hockey player boyfriend—er, friend—and tried to imagine him playing polo instead. I’m sure it was a fine game and all, but it wasn’t my Beck. And regardless of labels, he was mine. “Clearly, she was an idiot. I prefer guys with scars and imminent teeth loss in their future.”

Beck flashed his perfect pearly whites at me. “I’ll see about knocking one out next game.” Then the same misery-filled expression he’d had in the car when he’d talked about giving up hockey returned.

“College or not, you’ve got to keep playing. However you can.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “Promise me.”

“I’m playing now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m suggesting a league where you might win once in a while.”

His laugh echoed through me, leaving me so happy I practically skipped down the stairs. Within a few minutes, we stood across from each other on the cement hockey court, a puck between the hockey sticks in our hands.

I was pretty sure I was about to make a fool of myself, but the thing about embarrassing yourself a lot is you get a little numb to it. Plus, Beck already knew I was coordinationally challenged.

“Go!” I shouted, and slapped at the puck. I took off after it, Beck right next to me. We skated back and forth, the hockey sticks crashing as we fought for the puck. Beck got control and blocked every one of my attempts to steal it. Damn boy and his skills. I skated backward, waiting to make my move. When he lifted his stick, readying to take a swing for a goal, I flew forward and slammed my body into his, thinking I’d impress him with my checking skills.

Only then I was falling back, dropping my stick to grasp at air. Beck caught my arm just before I went down, making me land with more of an easy skid on my butt than a tailbone-fracturing slam—good thing I’d worn jeans today.

He hovered over me. “You okay?”

I groaned. “You couldn’t have wobbled a little?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so used to catching the impact—that
was
an impact, right?”

I slapped his arm, and he laughed before yanking me to my feet.

“Your skating is truly impressive, though. Didn’t expect it, Wilder.” He punctuated the statement with a smack on the butt. Guess he thought he’d give me the full jock experience. He retrieved the puck and batted it back and forth with his stick. “Ready for round two?”

It took me five attempts, and I suspected Beck didn’t pursue the fast break quite as hard as he could’ve, but I finally managed to send one into the goal. I threw my hands up in the air and screamed, that loud victory yell that I’d heard sporty type people do but never had much use for.

Beck scooped me up and spun me around.

I clung to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. “Don’t drop me, okay?”

“What do you think I am? An amateur?” He skated over to the edge of the court and slowly set me down, his hands lingering on the sides of my waist. “Thanks, Ly. I needed that.”

My heart turned over in my chest. “Me, too.” I shook my bangs out of my eyes. “So, whaddya think? Do I have a future in the NHL?”

“Yes.” He pulled me against him and lowered his mouth to mine, teasing my lips with his tongue. “Maybe just on the sidelines, cheering me on, though.”

It was an offhand comment, but it was talk of the future, and it sent a spark of hope through me. Surely I wasn’t the only one who was falling. Even if he wasn’t in love with me yet, I’d take the possibility of it.

His phone rang and he dug it out, keeping his other hand on the curve of my butt. He muttered a few answers and then looked at me and said, “Actually, don’t worry about us for dinner. I think Lyla and I are going to stay here tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know, Aunt Tessa. I’ll be there.” Pause. “I have an alarm on my phone, and I’ve managed to get to places on time by myself for years. I’m sure.”

When he hung up, he smiled at me, and the tenderness in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs. “I hope you’re okay with staying here overnight. Seems sad for my bedroom to never see any action.” He pushed his fingers through my hair and wrapped his hand around my neck, his thumb resting over my rapidly accelerating pulse point. “Plus, I want to spend an entire night with you lying next to me.”

I tipped onto my toes and pressed my lips to his, thinking
It’s happening! It’s happening!
“Sounds perfect.”

…

The darker it got, the quieter Beck was, and I worried he’d regretted the decision to stay. But when I asked, he insisted he was fine. He instructed me to pick out a movie from the large entertainment center while he went to get something to drink.

Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t come back. It was a big house, but twenty minutes was a stretch, so I went to look for him.

I found him in the downstairs office, sitting in the chair behind the desk, his head in his hands. “Beck?” I took a cautious step inside, not wanting to interrupt, but unable to leave him like that.

He looked up when I touched his shoulder, the sorrow on his face so raw it punched me in the chest. “Sorry. I… This was my mom’s office. I stepped inside to… I don’t even know.”

Papers were scattered across the desk and the drawers hung open. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the room when I passed by it on the way back and forth to the kitchen, but I didn’t think it’d been messy. “Were you looking for something?”

Beck pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to see if my mom was still having an affair. I don’t know what I thought she’d have here to prove if she was or wasn’t, but…” He gestured vaguely at the desk and exhaled a shaky breath.

What do you say to something like that? “You think she had an affair?”

“No, I know she did. Sophomore year I ditched my last class of the day because I’d accidentally grabbed two left skates and didn’t want to be late for practice. When I came home, I heard my mom in the office and thought I’d say hi. But when I pushed open the door, she was in here with Mr. Brooks, my dad’s financial advisor who also helped with the charity she was involved in. They weren’t having sex, thank God, but it was clear they were about to.”

“That…
sucks
.” It wasn’t nearly strong enough, or probably helpful, but it was all I had.

Beck sniffed and shook his head. “Sorry. I thought I’d dealt with it, but apparently I just held it at bay long enough for it to come crashing into me at the worst possible time.” He pulled the brim of his hat lower and stood. “Ignore me. Let’s go watch the movie.”

I placed my hand on the center of his chest, stopping him from moving around me. “Remember how you once said that with me, you could just be you?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well, you can be. Be sad. Be mad. Be whatever the hell you’re going to be. You don’t have to hide it from me. There’s nothing you could say that would scare me away or make me think less of you.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed like he was trying to hold back. I reached up and smoothed a finger over them. His mask slowly cracked and his shoulders slumped. “My dad forgave her and moved on,” he said. “Why can’t I?”

“It’s not an easy thing to forgive. I’m not sure I could do it.”

Beck stared at me for what seemed like forever, and for a moment I thought he was going to confess to cheating on me. Which, well, he couldn’t have. Not really. But it’d still hurt like hell if he told me he’d been hooking up with other people on the side, especially during the past few weeks when we’d grown even closer.

“It doesn’t help that, according to the rumors, it was still going on,” he said. “And I have no idea if it’s true or not. But it’s possible, so then I get pissed off she’d betray my dad like that again—that she did it in the first place—and then I feel like shit because I’m thinking badly about my dead mother. Every good memory is taken over by it, and I…” His voice broke and he looked away.

I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to hold him tightly until he felt whole again. I opened my mouth to try to come up with something to say, but then he whispered, “Make it go away, Lyla.”

Of all the kisses we’d shared, none of them had gone so slowly. Or felt so sweet. This one was different, like he was transferring part of himself to me. I took it in, hoping it meant I could take away the pain and help him escape. We stumbled out of the room, our mouths and bodies never breaking contact.

At the base of the curving marble staircase, I peeled off his shirt. I lost mine halfway up. My bra hit the floor at the top, and by the time we got to the bedroom, all I had on were the pair of tiny lacy panties I’d worn hoping Beck and I would get a chance to be alone. When Beck moved toward the bed, I pulled back. He wanted it to go away—I planned on making sure he wasn’t thinking about anything but me.

He groaned as I slowly kissed and licked my way down his body, his muscles twitching under my mouth. I’d hesitated to do this before, and Beck never pushed it. I used to think blow jobs were slightly demeaning, the whole down-on-your knees, could-be-anyone thing. For the first time I got that it was caring about someone else more than yourself, and that made it unexpectedly hotter than I ever could’ve imagined.

Empowerment filled me. I could be the one to make up for everything wrong in his life. I’d stay by his side, no matter what, and eventually he’d see it was all going to be okay. It was scary to give him so much of myself, but at least I knew Beck would take care of it.