18. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Viktor

One thing about having an obsessive personality, I'm able to pivot what I'm intensely focused on. It's how we beat Penn State. While my heart wasn't in the game, I defaulted to my more negative trait as some people like to call it.

But how can it be so bad if my obsession with being the best actually makes me so. And that's not me being narcissistic—my stats prove it. So does the fact the Islanders keep inquiring if I'll reconsider leaving school early.

Answer's always going to be no.

I want to finish my degree.

Our win wasn't all just me. Henneman stepped up, came out of his shell. Sure, he doesn't fight, not the way the rest of the team does. But he's a fucking good defenseman.

The Titans may just be a mismatch for him.

I also caught the way he checked in with Rinne a few times, which means some sort of conversation happened. Not that I need the help. Me and my lucky card are perfectly capable of defending the net.

Taking out my wallet, I rub my thumb over the edges of the burnt Ace of Spades, then make sure it's tucked away securely before putting my wallet back into my pocket. If only the card would bring me luck in every area of my life.

My phone dings and I pull it out. Opening my email, I glance over the message from our family lawyer confirming receipt of the signed contracts. Good. At least Mouse will be safe. No one gets to fuck with that little princess anymore.

Walking across the parking lot to the McLaren, I breathe in the cold air. Figure I'll take a ride over to my parents and hang out with them for the weekend. Hopefully, my twin sister's done some stupid shit again that might cheer me up, especially if it's something that gets Dad all riled up.

While I may be a headache, she brought some old guy home and had him fuck her on the dining room table just as my parents came back from dinner a few years ago. Then she looked straight at my father and gave him the finger. Payback—as she called it—for our dad not sticking up for her after finding out Mom was sending her to live with my aunt to learn more about the family business.

Can't believe I missed it, but my ass was busy at goalie camp.

Just as I open the passenger side door on the McLaren to toss my shit inside, the roar of a familiar engine catches my attention. Beckett pulls up beside me, revving his bike, the sound echoing in my chest.

He lifts the visor of his helmet, his two different colored eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. "Get on."

"No."

He hurt me. Used information I shared with him, information about a vulnerable part of myself, and fucking hurt me with it.

Even Jackson got concerned when I came home, my eyes watery and puffy after Beckett told me he finds the idea of a relationship with me too much .

He called Eli, who showed up wearing Alexei's shirt. Like who didn't see that coming?

It was kinda funny when Jackson got annoyed his two blond friends were moping around in their boyfriends' clothes.

Only Beckett's not my boyfriend.

"Get on, now." Beckett's voice is low, demanding, as he grabs my arm, pulling me closer. But I yank free, taking a step back.

"Leave me alone."

We stand, staring at one another, the tension between us as thick and suffocating as a vat of molasses in January. I'm not sure why he's here, or what he even wants.

But I do know for once I'm done convincing him to be with me. I want someone to choose me and all my too muchness on their own.

"Chaos, please. I was wrong." His voice softens, almost pleading, and something in my chest tightens.

"Yeah, you were."

But so was I, because while I may want Beckett to be mine, he never said he was. I just assumed and then reality slapped me in the face.

"Please, get on the bike." His voice trembles, and it tugs at something deep inside.

"Fine."

As I throw my stuff into the car and lock it, Beckett gets the foot pegs in place. I climb on, placing one of my hands on the tank and grabbing my wrist with the other hand, my body instinctively leaning into his.

He pulls his visor down, then we're off. It's too cold to be riding, and I have no idea why this airhead doesn't own a regular car, or why we didn't take my car to wherever the fuck we're going.

Doesn't matter, not really, because I miss being this close to him.

When we pull up to his apartment, I'm relieved. Mostly because I can't stop shivering. Seriously, this idiot needs to buy a regular car.

Once inside, I take off my sneakers and just stand there, hands in the pockets of my jeans.

Beckett grazes his thumb across my cheek. "Fuck, you're cold. Come here."

He pulls me against him, then wraps his arms around me before lifting me and walking to the couch. He sits with me still in his lap, then grabs the throw blanket and drapes it across us both.

"I'm not a child."

"Sure about that?"

I sit up, eyes narrowed. "Really? You—"

"Stop. I was just trying to make a joke. Obviously, it was in poor taste."

"No shit."

He sighs and holds my gaze. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have to apologize for how you feel. I was being overdramatic because I didn't get what I want." When he blinks a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a dumb fish, I roll my eyes. "I'm self-aware enough to know how I act, even if I choose to continue doing so."

"Not sure how to respond to that."

"Look, I'm fucking beautiful, extremely smart, and filthy fucking rich." I shoot him my best flirty-with-a-side-of-devilish smile. "But I'm also insane, overdramatic, and entitled. Seems no one can handle the combo. It's not a new revelation or anything."

"You left out the part where you don't listen very well. None of this was about you. Otherwise, I would've steered clear after you smashed that guy's face into the mirror at the gala."

"Nooo. I was your knight in shining armor, defending your honor. He touched you."

Beckett chuckles. "I remember."

When he pulls me back against him, I go willingly, melting into his chest as he adjusts the blanket. "I was wrong. I thought I needed casual, and it would make sense until I'm settled. But I haven't slept since that night. I'm fucking miserable."

I nuzzle into him, my heart beating erratically, yet I feel calm at the same time. "Me too."

Of all the partners I've had, none have ever cuddled with me. Sure, some did the aftercare bullshit, but it just came across too technical. And this just feels too fucking good, like I can barely keep my eyes open.

Except it all finally hits me.

Holy shit.

I push off him and look into his eyes. "Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?"

Beckett laughs so hard, the boom of the sound reverberates through me, filling the room. "Wow, for someone so smart, took you long enough to figure it out."

"How do you know how smart I am?"

"Read your transcript. On track to graduate Summa cum laude."

"Damn right. Now back to the boyfriend thing. How's it going to work, you know with your job?"

He leans in and places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. "Let's just get through the season, keep it to ourselves, and then we can figure it out over the summer. You only have one more year before you graduate."

"So . . . secret relationship?"

He eyes me, brows furrowing. "It's not ideal, but for now, yes."

I let out a loud groan. "This would've been so awesome if Jackson didn't have a better secret relationship story."

Beckett burrows his head into my neck, nipping and kissing me. "You're jealous your friend has a better story about hiding who he was dating? You're ridiculous."

"No one's ever called me that before. But if you kiss me every time you say it, I might end up liking it."

He chuckles, then grabs my chin, pinning me with a serious stare. "One more thing. We do this, then no more flirting with other people, whether it's in front of me or not. I catch you so much as batting those pretty blue eyes at someone else, I'll make damn sure you regret it."

I quirk a brow. "Wow, Becks. Didn't know you were so possessive."

"You have no idea." He pats my ass. "Now, get up. Time for a shower."

"What? Why? I took one before we left Pennsylvania."

"Because you don't smell like me anymore."

Oh.

That's what he meant about not all markings having to be physical. Sneaky fuck. He's been scent marking me.