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SIX

Jolie

C hampagne wasn’t what I had in mind for breakfast, but that was what room service had just rolled in now that Beck was back from practice.

Once the delivery dude was gone, after leaving the cart in the center of the living room, Beck took the bottle out of the ice and poured some into two glasses.

I wrapped my fingers around one of the flutes and took a seat on the couch, watching the little bubbles shoot from the bottom of the liquid to the top while I waited for him to join me.

The breeze of air that swished past me as he sat beside me made my eyes close.

Over the last couple of days, I’d learned that Beck had his own unique scent. It didn’t matter what products he used in the shower or the cologne he sprayed on after he was dressed. His body would absorb each of those aromas and create something entirely different.

And it was pure spice.

A smell that clung to his skin, hair, even his beard.

I’d never forget it.

“All I thought about during practice was how badly I wanted to get back here.” His eyes weren’t just staring at me. They were eating me. “To you.”

I smiled, my breath quivering in my lungs, and I held my glass in front of his. I tried to think of a toast, and since the only thing that came to me was how badly I didn’t want him to leave tomorrow, I said, “To getting drunk.”

He chuckled. “Breakfast is coming in about twenty minutes. I ordered every kind of meat they had on the menu. For you, avocado toast with a poached egg.” He pointed at his glass after he finger-brushed the sides of his mustache.

“The cocktail is to celebrate. The food is to make sure we don’t get too drunk and ruin everything you have planned.

” His finger left the air and landed on my thigh.

Tingles instantly exploded in my chest. “What are we celebrating?”

“Our last day together.”

Once the truth hit my heart, those tingles began to die down. Given that it was a subject I didn’t want to dwell on, I said softly, “You know, that’s my favorite breakfast order.”

“I’ve seen you eat, what, three meals and a couple of snacks? You’ve ordered clean every time, so I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.”

“It’s like … you know me.” I grinned.

“To another day—the final day—of holding you hostage.” He smiled and clinked his glass against mine.

That smile.

My God.

I swore, there was nothing in this world more beautiful.

There couldn’t possibly be. Certainly nothing sexier, from the way his lips spread around his straight white teeth—a detail we’d joked about after we left the bar last night since hockey players were notorious for getting their teeth knocked out—to the tiny grooves next to his hazel eyes, and to the hairs that teased his lips when he pulled them wide.

Hairs that had teased my lips too.

A sensation I would desperately miss.

“Cheers,” I whispered. I wouldn’t allow any emotion to come through my voice, but the reality was, this goodbye was going to suck.

I could feel it in every part of me.

Like a spring shower, when the sky turned completely dark and a breeze rushed through the city—you could see it coming; you could feel it in the air. That was now. And tomorrow, my heart was going to ache when he left to go to Washington, DC.

I didn’t care that Beck had only come into my life the evening before last.

Whatever these feelings were, they were real.

And these feelings were going to hurt when they watched him walk out the door.

“Did the clothes arrive?” He took a drink. “The ones my assistant was supposed to send?”

“They’re all hung up in the closet. We won’t need them until later this afternoon. What I have planned for the first part of today won’t be as chilly, even though it’s cold outside.”

His brows lifted, his forehead one of the few places on his face that wasn’t covered in hair. “And you’re still not going to tell me what those plans are?”

“Nope.” I laughed. “There’s something so satisfying about surprising you.”

He cupped the bottom of my neck—a spot that he touched more often than any other place on my body. “You know, you’ve already made this stay more memorable than I ever imagined.” His thumb stroked back and forth. “Thank you for giving me these couple of days.” He paused. “I won’t forget them.”

Stay.

Please.

Even though I know there’s no possible way that you can.

“I won’t forget them either.”

Our eyes were locked, and the silence was too much. His stare was too. So, I looked away and downed my entire glass of champagne, setting the empty on the table in front of us.

The flavor of the drink mixed with the mint on my tongue—an odd combination, but I needed the booze, so it didn’t matter. Because it was the drink that gave me the courage to ask, “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

That was a Band-Aid that needed to be ripped off. My brain was desperate to fill in that missing piece, the unknown more than I could handle right now.

Since he’d mentioned their itinerary was going to be discussed at today’s practice, I knew he had the answer.

“Nine.” He turned toward me on the couch, his hair still wet, the smell of shower faint, but the spice strong. “The team will be leaving the hotel a little before eight.”

“It’s a private flight, right?”

He nodded. “And we have to be film-ready. Our social media crew wants footage of us walking on and off the plane and will be shooting during the flight.” He sighed. “Any bit of hype they can stir during our winning streak, they take full advantage of.”

Even though we were talking about something different, that didn’t mean I felt better about his departure. That I wasn’t mentally dwelling on it. “I can’t blame them. You guys have won your last five games. Momentum like that drives up ticket sales.”

He moved his hand behind my head, his fingers lost within my locks.

“It does, but we fucking hate it. We want to be in a zone when we get on the plane and stay focused during the flight. The same is true for when we exit and go to the hotel. Having a camera in your face, especially while in the air, fucks everything up.”

“I’d hate it.”

He nodded. “Some moments, you just don’t want to be on .”

“Well …” I inched a tiny bit closer. “I’m going to do everything in my power to try to make you forget about being on. At least while you’re still here.”

His LA Whales sweatshirt was zipped up to the top, and I lowered the zipper a little, sticking my fingers inside. He was wearing a soft cotton T-shirt beneath, and the heat from his skin was coming through the fabric.

No one had ever felt as warm as Beck.

Tomorrow, I would crave this moment. I would think back to it. I suspected I would do absolutely anything to rewind time.

He lifted my legs and stretched them across his lap, holding my shins, rubbing them. “You already are, Jolie.”

“I want to tell you something.” Beck’s hands were hanging over the rail at the front of the fifty-five-foot yacht we were on, the freezing wind blowing his hair back as we cruised through the harbor. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

My parents had hosted countless parties on this boat.

We’d entertained clients on it for various reasons, and this was where Dad’s company celebrated their yearly Christmas party.

But tonight was the first time I had ever reserved it for personal reasons.

Aside from the captain and his assistant, Beck and I were the only ones on board.

“No one has ever taken you on a boat ride?”

Earlier in the evening, I’d pointed out the highlights of Boston, testing my knowledge and history of the city. This part of the cruise was solely for enjoyment.

He continued to stare straight ahead as we passed one of my favorite skylines. “A woman hasn’t, no.” He finally looked at me, the hazel of his eyes a dark green tonight. “Just you.”

I smiled. “I’m glad I could pull it off.”

“How many strings did it take?”

I laughed. “Just one. The owner is a client. I promised I’d work some overtime on his account and I wouldn’t bill him for the hours.” I nudged his arm. “Seeing your face when I walked you up to this boat makes up for every extra minute I’ll have to put in next week.”

He chuckled. “I was shocked that this was what you had planned. I still am, I think.”

“Because it’s too freezing to boat in this weather?

” When he didn’t respond, I rubbed my arms over the sleeves of my coat and said, “I was worried it would be so cold that we wouldn’t be able to come outside and we’d have to stay in the cabin—a view that isn’t nearly as good as it is out here.

But I figure it’s worth bearing these icy temps to have this kind of scenery since there’s truly nothing better. ”

“No, that’s not why I was shocked.” He turned toward me, his hands going to my face. “It’s because you’re showing me, you’re not telling me, Jolie.”

“Oh. I …” I let my voice drift off. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew I couldn’t say what I was really feeling.

His hands dropped, and he pulled our bodies together. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fucking shaking.”

“It’s the wind. It’s a lot on my neck, but I promise, I’m okay.”

I didn’t want to go in the cabin. Although it was nice, that was where the captain drove the boat, so we wouldn’t be alone.

He hugged his arms around me. I was in a Beck bubble, and suddenly, I couldn’t feel even the slightest breeze despite my hair flying all around us.

He was silent as he gazed down at me, but his eyes were saying so much. This wasn’t the first time he’d looked at me like this today. It had happened several times. Each occasion lasting a little longer. Like now, how it felt like a few minutes of quietness had already passed.

“I wish I could bring you to LA with me.”

His voice was unexpected, but what was even more surprising was what he’d said.

“In a perfect world, I would,” he added.

My heart was pounding.

It wasn’t one-sided.

He felt it—whatever this was—too.

“But we don’t live in a perfect world, Jolie. You’re here, living a life you can’t walk away from. I’m there, in a life that takes me on the road non-fucking-stop. We couldn’t be further apart.” His arms unraveled, his hands moving to my face again. “I liked this. I want you to know that.”

“Me too.”

His thumbs stroked my cheeks, and every time they left, even if it was just for a second to move back to the original spot, I missed them.

“That night at the bar, like I told you, I just wanted to go to my hotel and ride out these next few days, catching up on sleep and resting my body.” His stare became even more intense. “And to think, if I’d done that, I would have missed out on you.”

I smiled. “I’m so happy you didn’t.” The emotion was in my chest. It was in my throat. I was doing everything I could to keep it from entering my voice. “This has been amazing.”

He brought his lips to mine, hovering just above them. Each of his breaths turned the air white.

It was like he had more to say, but he wouldn’t. Or he couldn’t. And he was letting his hands and his eyes and his close presence say the rest.

Until I heard, “Thank you.”

I found myself moving back so I could get a better look at him, which put several inches between our lips. “For what?”

He fanned his fingers across my cheeks in a way that tilted my head up. “For being everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

Tomorrow morning was when he’d leave, but this was his goodbye.

I could feel it.

I could see it.

I knew there were far too many states between us and we were in different stages of life.

But I also knew this wouldn’t be Beck’s last visit here.

“You don’t play in Boston again this season. We fly to LA instead. But maybe we’ll make the playoffs, and I’ll get to see you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Boston isn’t making the fucking playoffs.”

“Hey”—I pointed at his chest—“that’s my team you’re talking shit about.”

“I happen to know a lot about your team, and I know they don’t have what it takes to clinch a playoff spot this season.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’m just being honest.”

“Then how about next season?” When he didn’t say anything, I continued, “If you have time while you’re here, we can grab a drink … or something. You know, after the game.”

He moved back to the position he had been in before, our lips almost touching, the smell of the air filled with the spiciness of his scent. “Next season is an eternity from now.”

My eyes briefly closed. “I know.”

“Fuck, Jolie.” He rubbed his nose over mine, and when he stopped, pulling it away to align our mouths, he whispered, “Kiss me.”

And I did.

With a level of passion that showed just how much I was going to miss him.