Page 168 of Miami Ice

Crap. Ella is right.

“The second you post it, call Mom, then Dad. Tell them I’m settled in for the night and I will see them as soon as I’m up for it and I’m in good hands with you and Beckham.”

“That will go over well,” Ella says, rolling her eyes.

“Well, okay, it won’t, but I trust you will handle them.”

“Oh, I will. You know that.” She opens my phone and then clears her throat. “Since Becks is gone, do you want to dictate exactly what you want to say? I know you told me what to write, but you could say it better than I could. And I know you would type it yourself if your head and neck didn’t hurt so much.”

I nod. My head and neck are still a mess, and the last thing I need to be is on my phone.

“You’ve got a picture of me in ER, then one of Becks caring for me, right?”

“I do.”

I clear my throat. “Okay, the caption. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Today took an unexpected turn when I slipped and fell down the stairs,” I say, speaking slowly so Ella can get everything. “I hit my head and lost consciousness. I cut my face and my back. I broke three ribs, sprained my ankle, suffered a concussion and a neck sprain. My twin, Ella, knew something was wrong and begged my boyfriend, Beckham Bailey, to go back and check on me, even though he was headed to the arena for tonight’s game. He did. And he found me in a pool of blood and glass at the bottom of the stairs.”

I stop for a moment, as I grow emotional again thinking about what Beckham saw. I regain my thoughts and continue.

“Beckham put everything aside to get me through this crisis. We didn’t know if I had suffered any severe neck or spinal injuries, and I was terrified. He was determined to make sure I stayed calm, and he reassured me that he wasn’t leaving my side. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. I was in a crisis, I was hurt, I was scared. Beckham made it clear he was going to stay with me because he loved me, and he knew I needed him. He spent hours in the ER, holding my hand. Listening to diagnoses. Helping me be brave. Beckham knows his responsibility to the team, and he takes that seriously. He’s the first one to practice. The last one to leave. And the first to arrive on game day. And that is how he will be after today, too. But for this one day, his personal life took precedence. Beckham didn’t take that lightly. But he made the decision that was best for him—for me—to be with me when I needed him most. I hope you all can admire him for making that decision as much as I do. Georgie.”

Ella finishes up typing and clears her throat. “That is perfect, Georgie,” she says, her voice thick.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready for me to hit send?” she asks.

I nod.

She taps a few things on my phone and sets it aside. “Done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll call Mom and Dad and deal with that shitshow.”

I smile at her. “I’ll take you to dinner as a thank you once I’m up for it.”

She grins. “I’m holding you to that. And it’s going to be steak and stone crabs because this is going to be painful.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much,” I plead.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. Ella goes to the door, but as soon as she pulls it open, she gasps in surprise. “Scarlett!”

“Is Georgie up for a visitor?” she asks.

“Yes, she is, go on in,” Ella says.

Scarlett enters the room as Ella leaves, and her face is full of concern as soon as she sees me. “I hope you don’t mind that I came,” she says. “I know we’re still becoming friends, but as soon as I saw the text from Ella, I wanted to check on you.”

“I think we’re friends already,” I declare. “And I’m glad you came.”

Relief fills her beautiful face. “I’m so glad.”

“You can have a seat,” I say. “Beckham went to get some lattes. He’ll be gone for a while.”

Scarlett nods and takes a seat at my bedside. “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes moving over me. They widen as she takes in my appearance. I have stitches on the side of my face, and I’m sure I’m pale and exhausted looking.

“The stairs got the better of me,” I manage to joke.

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