Page 165 of Miami Ice

Ella nods and leaves the room.

Beckham reaches over and gently brushes his fingertips over my hair. “I’m not leaving your side tonight. Unless you’re having a test, I’m going to be right here.”

“I know,” I say.

A small smile plays at his lips. “Good. I can see you’ve given up trying to talk me into playing tonight, which is a good move. Because I’mnot.”

I remain silent. I know Beckham is not going to play tonight.

But I’m determined to make sure the Manatees know what he has done today. That Beckham put me first. That in a crisis, he was determined to be by my side. They need to see that this is not a man loosely pushing aside his hockey responsibilities, but rather keeping the commitment he made to me in my time of crisis.

This is a man who is putting love above everything else.

They need to see this is a part of the new Beckham Bailey they got when they traded for him.

And I think I have an idea of how I’m going to do it.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“I’m sorry, Georgie, we’re still waiting to move you to a room,” Logan says apologetically. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“I understand, thank you,” I say.

Logan leaves, and I turn to Beckham. It’s been hours since I arrived in the ER, and I’ve been diagnosed with a mild concussion, a neck strain, three broken ribs on my right side, and a sprained ankle. I’ve had stitches put in my cheek and ornament fragments extracted from my back.

And Beckham hasn’t left my side unless he was asked to.

“Would you please go get something to eat?” I urge him. “Ella will be back from checking on Winston and Minnie any moment now. Please go. I know you have to be starving.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.”

I squeeze his hand. “But I’m going to be okay.”

Beckham is silent for a long time. To my surprise, his eyes begin to grow watery again. He blinks a few times and swallows hard. Then he clears his throat before speaking.

“It could have been different,” he says, his voice strained. “When I found you at the base of the stairs, when I saw all that blood …” He trails off, and I grow emotional as I watch him regain control of himself before continuing. “I thought the worst. I have never been so scared in my life. I thought you could have broken your neck or your spine. I thought the blood was a headwound. And when I thought of anything happening to you, a part of me died inside, Georgie. The only reason I projected calm is because you needed that from me. I had to be calm so you would be calm. But inside, I was a freaking mess.”

Fresh tears spring to my eyes. Once again, I’m reminded of what love is. Beckham knew what I needed in a crisis, and he gave it to me.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” I whisper over the lump in my throat.

“No. I’m so glad Ella had me go back. Because what if she hadn’t? What if you would have been there alone? I can’t bear the thought of that.”

I pull my hand from his and put it to his face, and he nuzzles into my palm.

“I would have been able to get up eventually and get my phone,” I reassure him. “But I’m so grateful Ella sent you to me.”

“Me too.”

A silence falls between us. Beckham takes my hand and holds it again, dragging his thumb across the top.

“Georgie, that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you I loved you,” he says quietly. “Because I do love you. I said it in that moment because I wanted you to know that, but I have loved you for weeks now. I was just too afraid to actually admit it to you. It was scary because it was so quick, and I didn’t want you to think I was acting on infatuation or confusing things. Because I’ve never been clearer about anything in my life. I love you, and I have loved you, and it’s practically been since the day you walked into the restaurant wearing that ridiculous gift tag around your neck.”

I smile as happy tears fall from my eyes. Beckham reaches up to gently wipe them away.

“I’ve loved you for a while now, too,” I admit, my voice wobbly. “I had planned to tell you on Christmas Eve.”

His brows lift in surprise. “You did?”

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