Page 45 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Eleven

Raph

The guys had somehow missed that Beth was there, sitting a handful of booths away.

Or at least Cas and Theo had.

Smitty was still wearing his gossip face.

But I had managed to survive pancakes and conversation, and Smitty hadn’t brought up the gorgeous redhead, even though I’d had to tear my gaze away from her more than a handful of times.

Drinking lots of water.

Eating heartily.

Steady and smiling at the waitress and reading her book.

Fucking beautiful. Fucking bright. Fucking…with my head.

Smitty was pushing out the door, Cas and Theo a few steps behind me, when I saw a flicker of red, and my gaze was drawn to her again.

She was sitting on the edge of the booth, brows dragged together, lips parted like she was breathing slowly.

And then she was rising slowly.

Like she was unsteady.

Cas and Theo followed Smitty out into the cool morning air, but I couldn’t make my feet go. “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” I muttered. “Catch you guys at the rink later.”

Smitty’s eyes got all gossip-centric again, but Cas and Theo just nodded, calling their goodbyes as I spun back toward the dining room…just in time to see Beth on her feet and all but racing through it for the bathrooms.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Was she sick now, too?

The door slammed shut behind me, but I didn’t hear it. I was already moving after Beth, following her into the narrow hall that housed the bathrooms, waiting there because the door had already swung closed behind her.

Waiting longer, my worry prickling up my spine.

Then longer still, that worry growing to something deeper, something more all-encompassing. What if she’d fallen again?

As far as I knew, she was alone in there—no one else had gone out or come in—and if she was alone and unconscious and?—

“Right,” I whispered and pushed into the bathroom.

It was…empty.

Claws in my belly, raking through my insides, splitting me wide open.

“Beth,” I croaked then cleared my throat. “ Beth!”

A toilet flushed, and I realized I was a dumbass. Women’s bathrooms had stalls , not just urinals and a single toilet crammed into the corner with a door that barely covered my ass. This was all stalls, and I hadn’t looked closely enough.

Because there were feet under one.

Feet that were moving to the door, tugging it open.

Feet that belonged to Beth.

“Raph?” she exclaimed, smoothing down her sweater.

“Are you okay?” I asked, moving closer, gripping her shoulders. “Are you sick? Dizzy?”

“I’m fi?—”

“Don’t lie to me, baby. I saw you run in here and?—”

She started to lift a hand, as though to push me back or to grab my hand then stopped, dropping it to her side.

“I had to pee, honey,” she said softly. “I drank four glasses of water, two hot chocolates, and a cup of coffee. I was too lazy to get up before I finished my pancakes, so I waited”—her mouth turned up—“until I was in an emergency situation.”

Emergency—

Christ.

I shook my head.

“Now,” she whispered. “Can I wash my hands?”

“You weren’t just eating pancakes.”

A blink.

“You were reading.”

Now her cheeks went a little pink, and I began to wonder what she had been reading at that table.

I didn’t have time to focus on that because she was frowning, spinning out of my hold, and moving to the sink. “Yeah, I was.” A shrug. “I like to read.”

I knew that, too.

I’d heard her and Pru and Hazel talking about books enough times during nights out to know that, to understand why my mention of reading had her blushing.

“What were you reading?” I murmured, sliding close, my voice dropping about three octaves.

I knew that , too.

Why it was happening, the slippery slope I was creeping toward, that I couldn’t stop myself from approaching.

“I need to go,” she murmured, reaching past me for a paper towel. “I have plans.”

I tore off the towel for her, passed it over, watched as she dried her hands.

When she was done, I took it from her, dumped it into the trash. “What plans?”

Her eyes had been on her feet, deliberately avoiding mine, but my question had her glancing up. “Plans,” she said, reaching toward me, her body moving close.

I sucked in a breath.

But she wasn’t reaching for me. She was reaching beyond me again. For another paper towel, which she folded up as she moved toward the door, wrapping it around the handle and using it to tug the heavy wooden door open.

Then she waved a hand at me, directing me to precede her.

I should have opened the door. I should have held it for her.

I—

“Raph?”

A quiet question that drew my eyes to hers.

“You should probably leave the women’s restroom now.”

That had me jerking into motion.

I slipped out the door, moved to the side, letting her go ahead, watching her move, something relaxing in me when her gait was even, and her pace was steady.

Right.

I should probably go before I made even more of a fool of myself.

But I couldn’t pry myself away from Beth’s side, even as we made our way out of the restaurant, as I pushed the door open for her, as I followed her to her car.

“Raph?” she asked again as she dug in her purse for her keys.

“How’d you get your car back?”

She froze then her head jerked up. “What?”

“Your car was at CeCe’s. Did Marcel or Pru get someone to bring it over?”

Teeth worrying her bottom lip, and I knew they hadn’t, and suddenly I was kicking myself even harder. I’d yelled at her, made her cry, bullied her into the ER, and then left her. Then I’d broken into her house and hadn’t even thought to bring her car so she’d have a way to get around.

“How?” I asked again, my fingers covering hers on the handle.

A shrug that was so casual it was almost disarming. Almost because I’d noticed other things about Beth besides the fact that she seemed destined to break through shields I was desperately trying to reinforce and hold in place.

Almost disarming because she was really good at getting people to look away from her.

Bright and pretty and perfectly put together.

But constantly shifting the attention from herself. Even when she was making everyone at the table laugh, usually it was at her own expense, and then, just as quickly, she was passing that attention over to someone else.

Camouflage.

But I saw her.

I couldn’t ignore her, even when I was desperate to.

“I took a Lyft.” Another casual shrug. “Picked up my car, planned to hit the outlets for some better clothes and save Pru the trouble of having to be my dressing room wingman.” Beth’s face gentled.

“She offered, and I know Marcel would come with me if I asked, or Hazel, or Oliver. But”—her gaze dipped to the side, and she shrugged again—“it’s my thing, not theirs. ”

I hated that I hadn’t thought of that, hated she’d had to deal with retrieving her car after the shitty night she’d had.

Hated…

No, was tired of fighting so hard.

So maybe I just…needed to stop fighting.

Clearly, Beth needed someone to look after her. And no one else was around. So that someone looking after her needed to be me.

Decision made—or maybe finally accepted, considering I’d been drifting toward this outcome for months now—I asked, “Those pants the loosest ones you have?”

Her eyes widened then I watched as a mask slipped onto her face, smirk curving those red-painted lips. Disarming. Trying to put me off.

I didn’t like that.

Liked it less when her tone went teasing, “What are you trying to say, Raph? That this girl is getting fat?”

I liked when she was soft with me, when she gave me a glimpse of her without any bullshit.

“Don’t.”

The way that burst out of me was visceral, and I couldn’t stop it and…

It made her mask slip, thank fuck.

“Don’t what?” she whispered.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? ” she asked softly.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, still going on gut. “And you fucking know it.”

Her lips parted, and fuck if I didn’t want to kiss the lipstick off, to see the pale pink they’d been without it that morning. My lips. Only for my eyes. A shield for the rest of the world.

But not a shield for me.

Fuck. I was so totally fucked.

I pressed on anyway. “Heard you tell Pru about the clothes. Haven’t seen you in much besides that sexy schoolmarm shit you normally wear.”

“Sexy sch-sch—school—” She shook her head. “What?” she breathed.

“You need clothes?”

Her lips pressed flat then released. “Yes,” she whispered.

I pushed her door closed, snagged the keys from her hand, and bleeped the locks. “So, we’re going shopping.”

“But—”

I took her elbow, led her to my car, and took advantage of her discombobulation to tuck her in the passenger’s side seat, ignoring the growing feeling inside me, ignoring that it was pleased she didn’t fight me, that I’d decided I was going to look after her.

A push had the door shut.

Then I was rounding the hood.

I happened to glance up, saw Smitty sitting in his car, giant shit-eating grin on his dumb face.

It said, “ Gotcha.”

It said I was fucked.

I still got into the driver’s side and turned on the engine.

And then I took Beth shopping.