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It was all I had time to think. I spied an armchair artfully arranged in a spare corner. I dove behind it just as the boy came into view.
He was even more furious than before. His tanned cheeks were red, his dark eyes still burning everything they touched. The sound of heels striking marble followed him.
“Don’t walk away from me, Beck.”
“Don’t call me Beck, Colette! It’s Beckett to you,” the boy snarled.Beckett.
She gripped his shoulder, her red-tipped fingers in a claw, and he stopped, shrugging off her touch as if it burned.
“I’ll call you whatever I want, you little shit. Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m speaking to you, and don’t call me Colette. Call me Mom from now on.”
“You’re not my mom, and you never will be. You’re just my dad’s whore?—”
Beckett hadn’t finished speaking when the woman’s hand went flying. The slap was so loud it stole my breath. Beckett’s cheek was redder than Colette’s crimson nail polish.
The boy visibly struggled to remain calm, a muscle ticking in his square jaw. His hands bunched into fists at his sides. “I’d rather die than call you Mom.”
“Well, why don’t you just follow your mom’s example and do that, then, and save me the headache of looking after you?” Colette jabbed at him, a victorious smile curving her lips; her shot had found its mark.
I bit down my gasp at the cruelty of her words.
Beckett just stared, murder in his eyes.
“Beckett! What’s going on here?” a loud voice interrupted the tense scene.
A man was jogging down the staircase that curved above us. My knees were cramping on the cold, hard floor behind the armchair, but there was no way I could move now. Not when I’d just witnessed something so personal.
“Nothing—” Colette barely got the word out before Beckett interjected.
“She told me to call her Mom.”
The man strode into view. He was dressed in a suit and oozed wealth. He had the same dark hair and eyes of the boy.The father. Soren Anderson.Everyone in Hade Harbor had heard of him. He was a verified billionaire, and one of the most powerful men in town.
He stopped just in front of the chair. “Well, that might be a good idea.”
“Dad!”
“Enough, Beckett. I don’t want to hear your complaining. You need to stop living in the past and move on. Your mother is gone?—”
“Stop!” Beckett cried and clamped his hands over his ears.
“She’s gone, and it’s time we both moved on.”
“Why do you have to move on withher?” Beckett spit out the last word, turning baleful eyes toward Colette.
“Because Colette understands me and everything I’ve been through. I’ve had enough of this conversation. Argue with your stepmother again, and no more hockey. Forget trying out for the Hellions if you can’t get along with your remaining family.”
Colette had her arms crossed over her chest and a satisfied expression on her pretty face. She really was very beautiful, and she seemed much, much younger than Soren.
Beckett stared at his father. His hatred and resentment, fury, and raw, unadulterated pain were palpable, and thickened the air in the hallway. I wondered how he could stand to feel so much.
He finally broke the silence. “I won’t forget her. I don’t care what you want. I’ll never forget her or replace her with this woman you married.”
His dad was silent for a beat and then spoke with silky precision. “I won’t spend my life loving a ghost, Beckett. She’s gone. Life is for the living. Now, behave. I don’t want to hear you fighting with your new mom again. Do it at the risk of your precious hockey.”
Soren turned to his new wife and smiled, stroking her cheek. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”
“Now that you’re here, I’m fine. I’m sure Beck will get used to me in no time.” She smiled winningly at Soren.
