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“My mom, Melly Martino, does.”
“Ah, yes, Martino. You’re the daughter,” Colette said.
I couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses, but I was pretty sure she’d just given me a thorough up-and-down scan.
I nodded, twisting the hem of my top between my fingers to give them something to do. “Yes, that’s right.”
“What can I help you with?” she asked briskly as she took a step toward the door, making it clear I’d better hurry and ask for what I wanted, because the help didn’t merit much time.
“I’m here trying to find Beckett. I wanted to visit him and check if he was okay. We were classmates at Hade Harbor High,” I tacked on when Colette was silent.
She studied me a moment longer. “Beckett’s not here.”
Oh.What?
“His father had him transferred to New York to work on his injury. The best plastic surgeons are there.”
“Is he okay?”
“As much as a young man who’s been permanently scarred can be. I wouldn’t worry about him. His family is taking care of him.”
Permanently scarred?Because of me.
“Can I get his number?” I should at least call and speak to him. It was the least I could do.
Colette tilted her head to the side and tapped her lip. “Listen, Miss Martino, I’m just going to be frank. The help getting involved isn’t a good vibe. Soren doesn’t like people acting outside their roles, and he won’t like Melly’s daughter getting involved with his son. Not only that, but there’s a lot of attention around this, thanks to the drugs angle and my son’s preexisting relationship with the perpetrators. It’s a mess. Best stay out of it.”
I struggled to take in what she’d said. Beckett had known that guy Jax and used to buy drugs from him. Had that fact come out in the investigation? That couldn’t be good for Beckett or his hockey career at all. Anxiety worked through me.
“Still, I want to thank him. He – he got hurt because of me.”
Maybe Colette could tell I was desperate by my insistent tone, because she sighed and reached into her bag. Tearing out a page of her planner and clicking a Montblanc pen, she scribbled out a number.
“Fine. I warn you, he’s not in a pleasant mood to deal with. Don’t be surprised if his sliver of good character and heroism were used up that night, and now he’s just his usual churlish self.”
She handed me the paper. Relief flooded me as she handed me the paper. I finally had a way to contact him somehow. It felt too wrong not to talk after what we’d shared.
Colette glanced at her watch and winced, reminding me she was a busy woman. She gave me a tight, dismissive smile. “Don’t worry about Beck. He’s fine. He just wants to focus on the future and forget all about that night. Believe me, he’s said it numerous times. He just wants to put it all behind him. Now, take care, Miss Martino.”
Just like that, Colette left me standing there, clutching that little slip of paper like it was a lifeline.
Beckett
I staredout the window at the blazing sun and Maine summer sky. I was still locked inside, stuck in a hospital bed. Marcus and Cayden, fellow Ice Gods, had been to visit nearly every day, and Asher had been diligent about checking in with me by phone, but he was two thousand miles away.
One visitor in particular was conspicuous in her absence. I tried my best to put thoughts of her out my head. I had enough problems to deal with.
Everything was a mess. Jax had somehow managed to slip away during the chaos of the police crashing in. His friends were caught. The police were investigating Jax and any known associates of his. As a result, the fact that I’d bought drugs from him had come up. I was on extremely thin ice right now. Only my father’s name had suppressed the scandalous news.
I took a drink of water and winced at the pain down the side of my face. The damn cut was healing slowly, pieced together to the best abilities of the famous surgeon my father had flown in from New York. It would still leave a scar, however. A variation in skin tone, a line, a certain shininess in the right light. Therewas nothing that could be done about that, except more painful, fruitless surgeries. I’d opted out. It was what it was.
The very worst part of it was how my father had blocked the doctors from giving me any kind of painkiller. Ostensibly, it was because I was beating an addiction, but really, it was a punishment. Soren probably enjoyed the thought of me going through an agonizing recovery without a hint of help to manage the discomfort.
Now, I really was the broken boy, just like Colette had told me time and again. My outside might as well reflect the inside. Why shouldn’t it show?
A quiet knock at the door jolted me from my reverie.
“Hello? Are you decent?” Coach Eric poked his head around the door.
