Page 37 of Miami Ice (Miami Sports #2)

“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 head wound. 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?”

I nod. “I planned to have a special Christmas Eve celebration for just you and me, with presents and everything, and then I was going to tell you I love you. Because it was just bursting within me, and I had to let you know.”

Beckham grins at me.

“What?” I ask.

“I had planned to tell you on Christmas morning. Because you told me that was your favorite part of Christmas. Cinnamon rolls and coffee and presents. I thought it would be the perfect time to tell you I loved you for the first time. But it looks like I would have been saying it to you on Christmas Eve instead, after you told me you loved me.”

“You keep giving me more reasons to love you,” I say, my voice thick. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I think I could say the same,” Beckham says, his own voice rough. “I love you so much, Georgie. I’ve never told another woman I loved her. You’re the first. And you’ll be the last. Because I see this as forever with you.”

“You are the only man I’ve ever loved,” I say through my tears. “I see the same future for us. I love you so much, Beckham. More than I can even say.”

“I love you, too.” He gets up from his chair, leans over the bed, and gives me the gentlest kiss I’ve ever received.

Just then the curtain is pulled back, and Ella appears. “Am I interrupting?” she asks, stopping at the threshold.

“No,” I say, smiling at her. “Beckham is about to go get something to eat.”

He scowls at me, and because it hurts to laugh, I bite down on my lip.

“I am not,” he says, sounding irritated. “I’m not leaving your side.”

“Oh yes, you are, ” Ella insists. “I need twin time with Georgie. And I brought you a shirt to change into. So you can change your shirt, get something to eat, and let us talk for a bit.”

I can tell Beckham doesn’t like this idea at all but is not about to oppose me and Ella about staying when we’ve both asked him to leave.

Ella extends her hand, holding a T-shirt from Beckham’s closet. He takes it and thanks her. Then he moves back to my bedside, leans down, and brushes a kiss on my forehead. “Fine. Love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say.

Beckham leaves the room, and Ella moves around to take the seat he vacated. “How are you feeling?” she asks, concern flickering in her eyes.

“I feel like I’ve been run over,” I admit. “I know I have a rough road back to recovery, but I’ll be okay. And I know you and Beckham will take care of me.”

She reaches for my hand and holds it. “We will.” Then her face grows very serious. “Georgie, when I saw the house … when I saw all the glass and the garland torn down and the blood …” Then she shivers, and I feel it run through our hands. “It could have been so much worse.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“I’m so grateful everything is going to be okay. Because if you had been seriously hurt or worse … I can’t think about it. I can’t.”

Tears slip from her eyes, and from mine, too.

“We don’t have to think about it,” I reassure her with a wobbly voice. “I’m okay.”

“I’m so grateful. I have never prayed so hard in my life as when Beckham told me what happened.”

“I’m so lucky. On so many levels,” I say. “But I’m especially so lucky to have been born a twin. I love you so much, Ella.”

“I love you, too,” she says. She reaches over and grabs a tissue out of the box, then passes the box to me. We both dab at our tears and then I clear my throat.

“How were Winston and Minnie?” I ask.

“They were stressed. Winston especially. He knew something was wrong. I tried to reassure him the best I could. I have a feeling Becks is going to stay in your room with you tonight, so do you want me to go back and get him and take him home? He can stay with me so he’s not alone.”

I nod. “I think that would be best for him.”

“I also cleaned up the blood and the glass,” Ella says softly. “Not just so the pets wouldn’t get into it, but I didn’t want you and Becks to see that when you go home.”

“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you,” I say. Then I clear my throat. “Did you get my phone?”

“Yes,” Ella says, reaching for her purse and rifling through it. She picks it up and hands it to me, but I wave it away.

“I need for you to do something for me. We have to help Beckham.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“He had a game tonight, and he refused to go,” I explain. “You know how athletes rarely get to miss games. Usually, it’s like a birth or death. And with his previous reputation in Denver, he’s risked a lot to be here for me tonight.”

Fury flashes in Ella’s eyes. “Oh my God! His girlfriend was in a serious accident, where else would he be?”

“I know, I agree with you. But we need to get the team to see this was serious and get the public on our side. And I need your help with that.”

“You name it. It’s stupid we have to even do this in the first place, but I’ll do anything to help Becks.”

I smile. I knew Ella would come through for me. I tell her my plan and give her the password to my phone.

“On it,” she says. “And Georgie?”

“Yes?”

“This will work. Even if the Manatees coaching staff and front office have a problem, what you’re going to do will get social media on your side. They don’t stand a chance against the Goodwin twins.”

I smile at her.

And pray that she’s right.

* * *

By the time I’ve been moved into a private room, more people have shown up at the hospital. Jordan came to see me and support Ella. A tearful Chloe came, too, vowing I’m never to walk on stairs again.

And by my side during all of it was Beckham, who reappeared less than an hour after being told to eat and only left me to use the restroom.

Right now, it’s back to me, Ella, and Beckham. Jordan took my key and went to retrieve Winston and take him back to the apartment. Chloe went home and promised to be at my house tomorrow to help with anything. Ella told me Becca texted back asking what she could do to help. Emilee is with her family in Orlando, but said she’d be in the rotation as soon as she’s back in Miami.

I frown. The only person Ella hasn’t heard back from is Scarlett, because she would have told me if she did.

I wonder if Scarlett thinks Beckham should have played tonight. After all, she grew up in an old-school hockey household.

“Are you okay?” Beckham asks.

I blink. He must have detected my frown.

“I think I need some caffeine. Would you please get me a peppermint latte?” I ask him.

Beckham, still holding my hand, leans over and presses another kiss on my forehead. “Yes, I’ll get you one.”

Then he rises and looks over at my sister. “Do you want anything, Ella?”

“I’d love a vanilla latte. Thank you.”

He nods. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he leaves, Ella brightens. “That was the money shot we needed!” she says excitedly. “I got it!”

“So you can put up the post now?” I ask.

She frowns. “The only thing is, Mom and Dad will probably get wind of it. I just thought of that. They’ll be pissed they’re hearing about it secondhand on Connectivity.”

Crap. Ella is right.

“The second you post it, call Mom, then Dad. Tell them I’m settled in for the night and I will see them as soon as I’m up for it and I’m in good hands with you and Beckham.”

“That will go over well,” Ella says, rolling her eyes.

“Well, okay, it won’t, but I trust you will handle them.”

“Oh, I will. You know that.” She opens my phone and then clears her throat. “Since Becks is gone, do you want to dictate exactly what you want to say? I know you told me what to write, but you could say it better than I could. And I know you would type it yourself if your head and neck didn’t hurt so much.”

I nod. My head and neck are still a mess, and the last thing I need to be is on my phone.

“You’ve got a picture of me in ER, then one of Becks caring for me, right?”

“I do.”

I clear my throat. “Okay, the caption. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Today took an unexpected turn when I slipped and fell down the stairs,” I say, speaking slowly so Ella can get everything. “I hit my head and lost consciousness. I cut my face and my back. I broke three ribs, sprained my ankle, suffered a concussion and a neck sprain. My twin, Ella, knew something was wrong and begged my boyfriend, Beckham Bailey, to go back and check on me, even though he was headed to the arena for tonight’s game. He did. And he found me in a pool of blood and glass at the bottom of the stairs.”

I stop for a moment, as I grow emotional again thinking about what Beckham saw. I regain my thoughts and continue.

“Beckham put everything aside to get me through this crisis. We didn’t know if I had suffered any severe neck or spinal injuries, and I was terrified. He was determined to make sure I stayed calm, and he reassured me that he wasn’t leaving my side. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. I was in a crisis, I was hurt, I was scared. Beckham made it clear he was going to stay with me because he loved me, and he knew I needed him. He spent hours in the ER, holding my hand. Listening to diagnoses. Helping me be brave. Beckham knows his responsibility to the team, and he takes that seriously. He’s the first one to practice. The last one to leave. And the first to arrive on game day. And that is how he will be after today, too. But for this one day, his personal life took precedence. Beckham didn’t take that lightly. But he made the decision that was best for him—for me—to be with me when I needed him most. I hope you all can admire him for making that decision as much as I do. Georgie.”

Ella finishes up typing and clears her throat. “That is perfect, Georgie,” she says, her voice thick.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready for me to hit send?” she asks.

I nod.

She taps a few things on my phone and sets it aside. “Done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll call Mom and Dad and deal with that shitshow.”

I smile at her. “I’ll take you to dinner as a thank you once I’m up for it.”

She grins. “I’m holding you to that. And it’s going to be steak and stone crabs because this is going to be painful.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much,” I plead.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. Ella goes to the door, but as soon as she pulls it open, she gasps in surprise. “Scarlett!”

“Is Georgie up for a visitor?” she asks.

“Yes, she is, go on in,” Ella says.

Scarlett enters the room as Ella leaves, and her face is full of concern as soon as she sees me. “I hope you don’t mind that I came,” she says. “I know we’re still becoming friends, but as soon as I saw the text from Ella, I wanted to check on you.”

“I think we’re friends already,” I declare. “And I’m glad you came.”

Relief fills her beautiful face. “I’m so glad.”

“You can have a seat,” I say. “Beckham went to get some lattes. He’ll be gone for a while.”

Scarlett nods and takes a seat at my bedside. “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes moving over me. They widen as she takes in my appearance. I have stitches on the side of my face, and I’m sure I’m pale and exhausted looking.

“The stairs got the better of me,” I manage to joke.

“When Ella texted me what happened, my stomach dropped out,” Scarlett says. “I didn’t see that text for a while because I was out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, but as soon as I saw it, I headed right over here.”

“Thank you for coming to see me. That means a lot.”

“I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in. I’m so sorry.”

“It could have been so much worse,” I admit. “I’m thankful.”

“I know you’re going to have a recovery period, and I want to help. If you need someone to keep you company, help with laundry, anything, I want to be there.”

“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll take you up on that. I’ll especially need help when Beckham is on the road.”

“Then I’m your girl. Along with all your other girls,” she teases.

I smile. “I’m so lucky to have so many good friends.”

And that’s the truth. I’m blessed with old friends, like Chloe and Emilee, and new ones, like Becca and Scarlett.

My phone begins to vibrate. I swallow nervously, as I know it’s because of the post I put up. I told Ella to tag Beckham in it, so no doubt it’s getting picked up all over the place.

Scarlett glances in the direction of the phone sitting on the table next to the chair where Ella was moments ago.

“I had Ella put up a post about the accident on Connectivity and Instagram,” I tell her. “I explained why Beckham is a scratch tonight.”

Scarlett’s dark brows have knitted into a confused V.

“Scarlett, you know Beckham’s reputation prior to coming to Miami,” I say slowly. “I also know how sports works. You don’t take days off unless you’re hurt. Or a baby is born, or someone dies. Beckham risked everything tonight to be with me. I wanted your dad and the coaching staff to see why. He didn’t have time to get team approval. Beckham has been with me because I needed him. And he needed to be with me.”

Awareness dawns in her blue eyes. “You’re worried about the consequences of him not showing up tonight.”

I swallow. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you mind if I read what you wrote?” she asks.

“We’re friends, of course I don’t mind.”

Scarlett retrieves her phone and swipes it open. Then she taps on a few things and begins to read. When she’s finished, she looks at me, blinking back tears.

“Nothing is going to happen to Beckham,” she says, her voice wobbly but determined at the same time. “First, from working in social media, this was a brilliant move. Yes, some fans will be assholes about it, but in this day and age? Most people are going to be on Beckham’s side. This isn’t him not showing up because he’s partied too hard the night before. This is Beckham making the choice of being there for the woman he loves in an emergency. It was the right call.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“And if you’re worried about my dad, well, he’s old school. Hockey is his life. But even he understands that players have lives, and that includes ups and downs and crises. I will remind him of that tonight. Trust me, the team will stand behind Beckham after seeing these pictures. And Beckham won’t face discipline for being a good man. I’ll do everything I can to make sure of it. But honestly? I don’t think it will be needed, Georgie. You took care of it yourself.”

I’m about to reply when the door opens, and Beckham walks in carrying a tray of coffee drinks. He blinks in surprise at Scarlett, who rises from her chair.

“Becks,” she says, slipping her purse over her shoulder. “I just stopped by to see how Georgie is doing. I’m not going to stay any longer because she needs her rest. But I also want to tell you something. You did the right thing by not playing tonight.”

Beckham glances over at me in the bed before looking back at Scarlett. “There was no choice to be made. Georgie needed me.”

A wistful look passes over her face. “And you needed to be with her.”

“I did. And I don’t regret my choice.”

“Nor should you.” Then Scarlett smiles at me. “I meant what I said, Georgie. Leave everything to me.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” she says. “Good night.” Then she leaves the room.

Beckham sets the tray down on the table next to my bed. “My phone is blowing up,” he says. “Because of your post.”

I study him, trying to gauge his reaction to this. He sinks down in the chair vacated by Scarlett and reaches for my hand again. “Thank you for standing up for me,” he continues, his eyes locked on mine. “I know that was a pre-emptive strike against what the Manatees might do.”

“There are going to be some people who think you did the wrong thing,” I say. “But I think a whole lot more are going to support you and what you chose today.”

“I will always choose you, Georgie,” Beckham says, squeezing my hand. “Always.”

“I will always choose you, too.”

“Because you love me,” he says, smiling gently at me.

“Because I love you,” I reply, smiling back at him.

And now all that remains to be seen is if the Manatees agree with the decision Beckham made, too.