Page 66 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Thirty-Two

Beth

I clicked off the TV, my skin itching.

The Breakers had won again.

The playoffs were beginning in just days.

And…he wasn’t sleeping.

Raph wasn’t sleeping.

He was playing well, consistent and solid, like always. But with none of the flair and creativity and drive that he’d had for the entirety of the regular season.

Minus the last weeks.

Because that had been slowly drying up.

Because he wasn’t sleeping.

He was worried about me. I knew that. And I had the means to solve it.

I needed to tell him.

I had needed to tell him for the last months.

But I’d been putting it off because…well, for all the reasons I had. All of which Marin had helped me understand weren’t particularly valid. They were excuses and fears and ways for me to hold tight to those barriers I’d erected.

Because Raph wasn’t like them.

He’d proved it to me time and again.

And now, the fact that I was holding tight to my fears was impacting him.

So…it was time.

I pushed off my couch, moved to my bedroom, pretending that it was still walking, when it was really waddling, and grabbed a bag, started filling it with my loose clothes—though they were definitely a whole lot less loose than they’d been when I bought them.

Luckily, my blood pressure was stable, the twins were growing, and I was mostly feeling good.

Very pregnant, but good.

The doctors were shooting for a full thirty-six weeks to give the babies as much time as possible to grow and their lungs to mature.

Eight more weeks.

Boy, was I counting the days down.

Though, I might have to buy another wardrobe if my belly kept growing at the rate it was.

More shopping.

I grinned. Oh, the humanity.

Laughing to myself, I moved into my bathroom and grabbed my toiletries then headed down the stairs and snagged my laptop and charger, tucking them into my overnight bag.

But just after I’d shoved my feet into shoes and was pulling out my phone, intending to book a train ticket up to D.C.

so that I could catch up with Raph in the city before their next road game, my doorbell rang.

Frowning, I moved into the entryway, peeking out the sidelight and seeing…Hazel on my porch.

“What?” I whispered and quickly, I reached for the knob, turning the lock, and tugging open the door.

Hazel moved into me, close enough that worry began coiling in my belly, her gaze flicking down to my feet, her eyes flickering and tension entering her frame. Then she leaned to the side, seeing—presumably—the overnight bag on the bench in the hall where I had left it.

“I knew you were going to do this.”

I blinked at the tone. It wasn’t soft and gentle, not at all like Hazel. “Knew I was going to…” I began.

“Cut your losses and run.”

What the?—

I was pregnant with her other best friend’s babies. I’d bought a house here. I had a job, friends, a life. I had…Raph.

“Why would I run?”

Hazel took my hand, drew me away from the door, like she was seriously worried that I was going to sprint out into the night and disappear.

But her voice softened as she tugged me down onto the couch.

“Beth, honey, I know we haven’t talked about that night, and I’ve been trying to give you space to cope with everything, especially since you mentioned to me that you were talking with Marin. ”

Pru and Hazel both knew I was in therapy.

It wasn’t like I was going to keep it a secret—not after Hazel had been there in the hospital, certainly not with Pru’s babies in my belly.

“But I’ve watched you over the last couple of weeks…”

She had?

Of course, Hazel had.

“Honey,” I began.

“And the last time you got like this, you told Pru and me you were busy with work, and then we didn’t hear from you for six months.”

I frowned. “I’ve never gone more than a week without talking to one or both of you since college.”

“You picked up when we called, texted back when we started the conversation, but you didn’t once call first or text first or email first, honey, and oftentimes any replies to our messages were a long time in coming, and you know it.”

I wanted to deny it.

Just immediately and out of hand.

But…breathe, think, then reflect.

I did that, and it didn’t take long for me to come to the conclusion. “You’re right,” I murmured.

Hazel blinked.

“But here’s the thing, honey. I know I haven’t shared everything—” I stopped, shook my head. “I know that I’ve hardly shared anything . And I know that I owe you an explanation, but I’m leaving.”

“Bethie—” Hazel began.

“To go to Raph.”

Another blink from her friend.

“Yeah, honey. I know I haven’t been open like I should have. God, you and Pru. You two were the only lights I allowed in my life for such a long time, and I still didn’t give you everything?—”

“You don’t owe either of us an explanation?—”

“Maybe not, but if I’m using it as an excuse to keep you guys from getting too close then, yeah, I do.” I sighed. “Because it also means that if I stop concreting over the demons instead of just dealing with them, then maybe they won’t have so much power over me.”

Hazel’s face gentled. “That sounds like a solid thought.” A flicker of guilt through her expression. “I’m?—”

Our fingers were still linked together, so I gently squeezed Hazel’s hand, cutting her off before she could apologize.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“My job is literally to see these kinds of things,” Hazel whispered. “And I missed it.” Her throat worked, more guilt. “And then I misread you again this week.”

I tugged my hand free, used both to cup Hazel’s cheeks. “I had a lifetime to bury my shit, honey.”

“I—”

“And you do not get to take on my trauma. I know it’s your superpower, fixing things?—”

Hazel snorted. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Okay, I know our superpower is to fix everything.”

Hazel smiled. Finally.

So I added, “But I’m learning that not everything needs to be fixed.”

Hazel closed her eyes, sighed softly.

“Sometimes dings and cracks are okay,” I whispered. “Because it’s better than slapping on a veneer and pretending that everything is perfect.”

Scratches and dents and warm and lived -in were so much better than an empty, pristine castle with a concreted-over basement. Even with demons in the basement and doors that may never close properly and drafts and probably a few ghosts in the attic.

“Yeah,” Hazel whispered. “It is.”

“You okay?” I whispered back.

“No.” Still whispering. “My best friend was hurting for years, I missed it, and now she’s gone on and gotten healthy all on her own.” Her lids slid open. “And I’m so damned proud of her for it.”

Shit.

Now I was going to cry.

“Haze,” I murmured.

“I love you.”

Yup. Definitely going to cry. Mush paired with pregnancy hormones?

Total sob fest.

But hell, it was worth it, especially when I was able to wrap my arms around Hazel and hug her tightly…or as tightly as my giant belly allowed.

Eventually, though, I knew I needed to get to Raph.

“I’ve got to buy a train ticket, honey,” I whispered long moments later.

“Right,” Hazel said. “Load your butt into my car.” She stood up, reached for my bag. “You can buy one while I drive you to the station.”

The lights were on in my castle.

The door was unlocked.

There were plush rugs on the floor.

And the kitchen sink was filled with dishes, there were crumbs on the carpet of the living room, and a glass was leaving a ring on her coffee table.

It was home. Finally.

And…it was perfect.