Page 80 of Anatomy of a Player

Hudson

Beck and I bolted out of the vehicle and started across the parking lot. “Both of their cars are here,” he said, and some of the tension drained from him and, in turn, me.

A flutter of white danced in front of my eyes and I glanced up. The day had been so warm and now it was snowing—that seemed to happen a lot at the beginning of the winter season. The warm came in with a cold front right on its heels.

Usually I considered snowstorms lucky, especially the ones that promised a couple of feet—as a kid it had meant outdoor hockey, and not even the lack of feeling in my fingers or toes could send me back indoors.

Considering I was about to tell the girl I was crazy about that I loved her, I needed all the luck I could get. Doubts drifted up, whispering to me that she was too good for me and that I wouldn’t be enough for her, but I shoved them back. I couldn’t even think about the possibility she wouldn’t give us a shot—I’d find a way to convince her I was worth the risk.

Beck knocked on the door.

Then we stood there and stared at it as snow dusted our heads and the sleeves of our jackets.

Beck leaned closer to the door. “Lyla?”

I knocked this time, although with all the adrenaline rushing through my body, it was more of a pounding, I’ll-bash-the-door-down-if-you-don’t-answer knock—honestly, I was considering it.

Finally the door cracked open. Lyla slipped outside, pulling the door shut behind her. She opened her mouth, but she only got out a “Hey,” before Beck pulled her into a hug.

“You scared the shit out of me. You were there and then you were gone, and then you didn’t answer your phone. Is everything okay? Is it Einstein?”

It took me a second to remember their cat’s name was Einstein, so I didn’t have to inform them that he’d, uh, passed a while ago.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should’ve realized you’d worry. But Whitney called and—” That was when she noticed me standing off to the side. I was about to push past them, but the spark of anger that lit her eyes made me freeze in place. “What areyoudoing here?”

“I was worried about Whitney,” I said. “She didn’t come to the game and I—”

“That’s rich coming from you.” She advanced on me, and Beck was right—she could be kind of scary. “I wanted to be wrong, and there at the end, I thought I was. But you turned out to be the biggest asshole of all. Even worse than Matt and Trevor combined, and that’s saying something.”

“What the hell, Lyla? I thought we were cool.”

Beck stepped between us, one arm curling around Lyla and a flat palm to my chest. “Let’s just calm down before this gets out of control.”

I sucked in a deep breath of icy air, although it did little to cool the frustration and sense of urgency coursing through me. “I need to talk to Whitney. Is she in there?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Lyla said. “Ever again.”

I was utterly confused and sure she was talking nonsense, yet I got this inkling I’d somehow ruined my chance with Whitney before I’d even taken it.

Panic took control of my body, but then I noticed the door hadn’t quite latched. “Whitney,” I called out. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“You need to leave,” Lyla said. She looked to Beck. “Trust me. He needs to leave. Now.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not leaving until I talk to her.” I didn’t want to have to try to get through Beck, but if it took a fight, I’d throw down.

The gap between the door and the frame widened and Whitney stepped outside. Her appearance punched me in the gut—her eyes were rimmed in red, and sorrow filled every line of her beautiful face. “It’s okay, Lyla,” she said. She lifted her chin, forcing a brave face. “I’ve got it.”

Why would she think she needed to put on a brave face for me? What the hell was going on?

Beck nudged Lyla toward the apartment with a hand on her back, but she dug in her heels. “No. I’m not leaving her here without backup.”

I knew I’d never get through this with the fired-up redhead glaring daggers at me, so I looked over her head to Beck, wordlessly begging for a chance—I had to make whatever this was right.

He gave a half-sigh, half-groan. “Babe, I need you to remember how much I love you right now.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, picked her up so that her feet no longer touched the ground, and kicked open the door.

As he carried her inside, she pushed against him, her eyes going wide. “Beckett Davenport, if you don’t put me down right—” The slam of the door cut off the rest of her words. Yeah, I was going to owe him big for that.

I turned my full attention to Whitney. I wanted to touch her—to pull her into my arms or reach for her hand—but she had her arms firmly folded across her chest, and her earlier stony expression remained in place.

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