Page 121 of Double Puck

Beck Morrison in a fluffy robe should be hilarious.

It's not. It's devastating. The collar swallows half his neck, his hair is a wrecked mess, and he slowly drifts over to the floor-to-ceiling window like a heavyweight boxing champion who just retired to a spa.

Below us, the Bellagio fountains erupt right on schedule, white water dancing against the black sky. I pull the sheets higher over my naked body, watching how the whole city glitters through the window.

Beck stands in the middle of it all, backlit in flashing neon lights, quiet as a mouse.

Beck Morrison. Quiet.

That's how I know.

I pull the sheet around myself and watch him, the water bottle cool in my hand.

Then, I can help myself. I need to know.

"So who are you meeting tomorrow?"

He sighs, but doesn't look at me. The fountains keep dancing in the glass behind him, but I can't look away from Beck.

"That depends on what's actually happening with my trade." Now he turns, the robe's belt hanging loose, his eyes finding mine across the dark room. "I need to know where I stand with the Bears. And Darcy… I think you know more than I do."

He waits silently.

I could dodge. I've spent weeks perfecting the dodge. But he's standing there in a robe, asking me for the one thing nobody in his life has ever given him.

The whole truth.

I nod. "I do. I do know more than you. And I should have been more honest."

He goes completely still. "Then no more dodging. Tell me everything, Darce. I need to know."

I take a sip of water, and draw breath.

"Colin's been pushing since the gala. Calls, emails… each one shorter and more urgent than the last. You were told the audit ran seven weeks, Beck. What you don't know is that Colin cut it to three weeks ago. And I didn't tell you. Then Vegas got serious, and now he's cut it again. He wants my final recommendation within days, not weeks."

My voice stays steady, which surprises me.

"I didn't know about the scratch tonight. I swear to you, Beck. Coach and management made that call. But I knew everything was speeding up, and I knew you didn't."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't finished." I shake my head, being absolutely honest. "My assessment wasn't done. I wasn't finished watching you. But every time I sat down to write that stupid report, I couldn't tell anymore whether I was reading numbers… or protecting you."

Beck folds his arms over his chest, now leaning back against the window. He doesn't say anything, just waits for me to keep going.

"I didn't know what to do, Beck. My professional judgment and my feelings got so tangled up I couldn't figure it out. That has never happened to me. Not once. I have spent my entire life knowing exactly what the right answer is, and for the first time, my head was telling me one thing, and my heart was screaming something else. And I froze." I press the cold bottle against my knee. "Then of course, my mother called. Reminded me that Maddens don't get things wrong. That being wrong about you would ruin more than my career."

"And?"

"And I just… I don't know, Beck. I still don't know what to do."

He absorbs that. No joke. No comeback loaded and waiting.

"Okay," he says finally. "Then here's my half. My agent has contacts with the Vegas front office. That's who I'm meeting tomorrow morning."

My stomach drops. "The team that ripped the Bears apart tonight?"

"Yep."