Page 54 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty

Beth

I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine.

The lights were off, but it was brighter than my bedroom, illumination from beeping machines and a large glass door seeping into the room.

The bed was small.

The blanket and sheets were hospital grade.

I had tubes and wires hooked up to me.

Had I?—

I tried to think back. I’d been in bed with Raph after we’d had sex. Sex that was so fucking incredible and mind-altering, and I’d loved it so much that though I’d been a puddle of limp satiated woman, I’d been trying to summon the energy to attack him again.

To taste him.

To take a ride atop all that yummy hockey player.

To—

“Beth?”

I blinked, turning my head, and even that little bit of movement was painful, as though every single muscle in my body had been used until it was burned out, like I’d been to the most tortuous fitness class on the planet, and then done it again, just for funsies.

Oh, God.

I stared up into Raph’s bright blue eyes.

“The babies?” I asked.

Or rather, rasped, because fuck, my throat was dry.

Something flittered across his face—relief, anger, fear, I couldn’t tell.

But he reached for a pitcher on the rolling table, poured some water into a cup, and opened the straw.

“The babies are fine.” He bent the straw and brought it to my mouth, inclining his head to one of the beeping monitors.

“That’s tracking their heartbeats, and your ultrasound looked great. ”

I drank deeply.

Then he set the cup down and lifted a strip of ultrasound pictures from the table, holding them up so I could see.

My heart skipped a beat.

They were okay.

I was okay.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me that.”

Pushing my hair back, I tried to weave my way through the fog in my mind. “We were in bed, honey.”

“Yeah.” A gentle prompt.

“And we’d finished…” My cheeks went hot. “I…it was good. Really good, and I was trying to summon the energy to attack you again.”

That had his lips turning up.

But he didn’t say anything. He just waited for me to speak again, and I did my best to wind my way through the blackness of my memories. What the hell had happened?

“You got stiff, sugarpie,” he said softly. “Then went into the bathroom.”

My stomach began sinking. “I did?”

“Yeah, honey.”

Shit.

What had I?—?

The sliding glass door whirred open, and I jerked my head to the side—and God that hurt—to see Hazel moving into the space, a woman in a pale blue sweater and a badge around her neck trailing behind her.

Oh no.

Now my stomach was twisting itself into knots.

“Raph,” I whispered. “Wh-what happened?”

“Sugar—”

“ Raph .” Panic began squeezing my insides. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m fine.”

This didn’t seem like nothing. Being in a hospital bed with tubes in my hands, machines beeping around me, and Hazel and Raph and the woman with the badge all staring at me in concern. Definitely not nothing. This was?—

“Breathe, honey,” Hazel said gently, closing the distance between us and weaving our fingers together. “Everything is okay. The babies are good. You’re good. Raph is good. This is my friend Marin Stewart. She’s a licensed clinical social worker and we’re going to step out so you can talk to her.”

Oh, God.

Hazel was using her gentle voice.

Her Beth-is-going-to-lose-her-shit, or maybe her Beth-had-already-lost-it voice.

Jesus Christ.

What had I done?

“No,” I said, hand squeezing Hazel’s. “Don’t leave. Please. I’m fine. I’m sure this was all just stress and fatigue and pregnancy?—”

“And PTSD,” Hazel murmured.

“I—” I clamped my lips together. “What?” I breathed. “That’s not—” A shake of my head. “I’m not—I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “It was just?—”

Raph squeezed my hand. “You were shaking and begging me not to hurt you.”

Oh, fuck.

“I was there for the nightmare, honey, and I let that slide, thinking I wasn’t in a place to demand anything from you.

” He touched my jaw. “But, fuck, baby. I can’t let this slide.

You need to talk to someone about what’s going on, and we need to get you the help you need—whether that’s from me or Hazel or Marin. ”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just?—”

“You spent an hour huddled into a ball, not in the present, but somewhere dark.”

The basement.

Fuck. Fuck. I was fucking up. Fucking this up, fucking up the good I was supposed to be giving.

Then my gaze caught on the window.

And the light shining through it.

“What time is it?” I whispered.

“Just after ten,” Hazel supplied when Raph didn’t answer.

I jerked my hand free. He had practice today, and he should be there. Not here. Not then. Not ever. “You’ve got to go.”

Raph rocked back in his seat. “What?”

“You’ve got to get to the rink. You’ve got to go to work. You can’t be here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The monitors began beeping faster.

“You have to go.” I whipped toward Hazel. “You both have to go. You can’t see—” I clamped my teeth together. “You need to go. You need to go. Go! ”

Marin straightened, and I didn’t miss her glancing out the sliding door, probably looking for a doctor or nurse, someone who would give me something to calm down.

But I didn’t want to take something to calm down, I didn’t want to lose more hours.

This couldn’t happen.

I had to lock down the doors. Shore off the basement.

Not let anyone in. No. Not let Raph and Hazel in.

“You both have work. I’m fine. I had a moment. I had?—”

“Hours of not being in the present, sweetheart,” Hazel murmured. “Hours of being trapped somewhere bad and not being aware of your body, not being able to communicate, not being able to tell everyone what was going on.”

I knew it.

I’d felt it after, when I’d cuddled close.

Felt the demon slither free.

I should have acted then, but I’d been in that moment, relaxed and happy and with Raph, and so I hadn’t prepared, hadn’t been ready for the sneak attack, having expected it to come later, when I was alone.

That was when it always happened.

That was when the nightmares came, and I lost time, and?—

That was when the demons of my past struck.

This wasn’t the time to go down this path. It was pretty much the worst-case scenario for me in this moment. I needed to do damage control. I needed to save this somehow. I needed—distraction and avoidance and a shit ton of concrete to pour into the basement.

A deep breath. Another. The beeping on the monitors slowing.

Marin calming, her head turning back to me, concern still there, but less urgency.

Right. I had to get this done.

I turned to Raph. “The season is starting to wind down. This is an important time, and the playoffs are right around the corner. You can’t miss a practice. The team needs you, and even if you leave right now, you’ll already be late.”

“Beth—”

I shoved at his shoulder, lost a bit of my cool exterior, even though I was trying desperately to hold tight to it. “You need to go. Like right now.”

“I’ve already called Coach,” he said, losing a bit of his cool.

“So, table that shit right now. And even if the game is my job, and it’s important, it’s not as important as the people in my life.

” His eyes hit mine, held. “And I think I made it clear that you’re important, and you’re in my life, and I want to stay. ”

He had made that clear.

Not with words.

But then again, I hadn’t needed them.

Because he’d made his feelings clear with actions.

With shopping and strawberry toast. Making sure I was safe in the bathroom and giving me water bottles. Mouthing sugarpie through the glass and his gentle fingers on my body. Through all of that and more, he’d made it certain that I knew his feelings had shifted.

That was why I’d bought the jersey.

That was why I’d been determined to take care of him in return—no, not in return , but bigger, better, to give him what he couldn’t accept himself. To make him better and take away his pain.

Not to lay my baggage at his feet.

Not to make him worry and panic after we’d?—

A sharp slice of embarrassment cutting through my middle, heating my skin, making it feel like it was too small for my body.

“You need to go,” I whispered and then when I saw the protest that was building in his face, ready to slide loose in his words, I held his eyes.

“You made it clear.” A breath. “I know that. I feel that.” So deeply that he’d prowled through my castle walls, traipsed through the basement, opening doors left and right.

“But what I need from you now is to go.”

His expression clouded.

“Beth, honey—” Hazel began.

“I need you to go, too.” I tore my eyes from Raph’s, turned to squeeze my friend’s hand.

“I know what you saw, and I understand what happened. And”—I swallowed hard—“I know what it means, what all this has dredged up.” Hazel’s brows dragged together, and I gave, just a little, just the little that Hazel already knew.

“My mom. My stepdad,” I whispered. “I think all of this”—I waved a hand—“the hospital, the complications, has dredged everything up.”

“Honey.”

“I’m not saying my head is right. But, right at this moment, I need some space to think and to talk to Marin and to figure out where it is and how to get it right again.” I turned back to Raph. “So, what I’m asking, is for you guys to give me that space. Give me some time.”

Raph’s jaw was tight.

Hazel, when I glanced back, didn’t look much better.

I knew that it wasn’t in either of their repertoires to let this go without solving the problem, without fixing it.

What they didn’t know, couldn’t ever know, was that I was unfixable.

I was broken inside, had been for years and years.

Starting with that night, continuing over the years. Pieces broken again and again and again .

And at some point, no matter how many times they were picked up and glued back together, there were always parts missing.

Important parts.

Lucky for me, I was good at faking things, at wearing a mask and making it believable that I was totally okay.

That I had it together.

I was Beth Mason, born with a silver spoon, a trust fund big enough that I could buy half of Manhattan if I wanted.

And a past full of demons.

Of pain.

Of memories and a truth that meant I could never, ever have anyone know the real me.

But in that moment, Hazel and Raph bought it.

“Okay, honey,” Hazel whispered, slipping her hand free and brushing a kiss to my temple. “I’ll call you in a couple of hours, and we’ll get you home.”

“Are Pru and?—”

“Pru’s still scouting. Marcel is at practice. We didn’t tell them about the panic attack, just that you were dizzy again. I’m sure they’ll be by later.”

More penance I needed to pay.

“I am okay.”

Hazel smiled. “I know, honey. Talk soon.”

And then she was gone.

Unfortunately, Raph was there.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I whispered, struggling to keep my gaze on his.

“Don’t apologize.” His eyes flicked to Marin then back to mine, voice dropping. “If you don’t want to talk to her, I’ll find?—”

I didn’t want to talk to Marin. I didn’t want to talk to anyone .

But I wasn’t going to get out of this without talking to someone .

So…I’d talk to Marin.

I’d say what I needed to say, give enough that I could get the fuck out of here, and then I would lock my shit down, make sure Raph was good and solid, and then I would find him a woman he could love and trust and be with.

Even if that meant setting me aside.

No, because that would mean setting me aside.

Because that was the right path for Raph.

And it just so happened to be the right path for me.