Kissing Beck Thomas, page 1
Kissing Beck Thomas
Life with the Thomas Brothers, Book 1
M. J. Padgett
MJ Padgett Books LLC
Copyright © 2023 by M. J. Padgett
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [include publisher/author contact info].
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by M. J. Padgett
Contents
Dedication
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Epilogue
About the Author
Also By M. J. Padgett
For Lily
Chapter One
Vivien
“Bring me back cheese fries!” My sister barely hears me over the screaming of the crowd, but she rolls her eyes and proceeds to the concession stand. Games this close always make me nervous, and when I’m nervous, I eat cheese fries like a fiend and pray my best friend and his twin brother manage to stay out of the penalty box.
My heart is already racing. We’re tied with only a few minutes left in the game, and the team needs my bestie on the ice. The coach motions towards identical twins seated at one end of the bench, and the two blue jerseys with Thomas emblazoned on the back fly onto the ice like a dog is on their heels. Ezra’s got the puck in a blink while Beck clears a path. Where my best friend is quick on his feet and agile, Beck is a take-no-prisoners brute who sees more time in the box than on the ice.
There’s a blur of men scrambling one way and then the other, and with my nerves shot, I can’t keep up with the puck. I rise from my seat to get a better vantage point when the alarm sounds and lights flash everywhere. Music blares over the speakers, and Ezra throws his hands in the air, cheering after his goal. He high-fives his brother, and my heart does a little flip-flop when he turns his gaze toward the stands. When Ezra’s eyes meet mine, he winks and waves at me. My cheeks flame, but all embarrassment washes away when the opposing team’s defenseman grabs Ezra’s jersey and yanks him backward.
Ezra slips and falls back first, landing hard on the ice. His teammates gather around to his defense, and the fight—which is complete nonsense since the game is over in thirteen seconds—spreads across the ice in a wave of flying sticks, gloves, and helmets. Ezra makes it back onto his feet while I stand screaming in the stands along with the rest of our school. We take our college sports seriously, including hockey, and there’s a good chance the brawl will spill into the stands if the refs don’t get it under control soon.
A white number fourteen on a blue jersey flashes in my line of sight a blink before Beck grabs an opponent’s jersey, yanks it over his head, and shoves him down onto the ice. Then he goes down under a much larger, much meaner defenseman. My heart stops. Beck and I don’t get along all that well, certainly not as well as I get along with his brothers, but I still don’t want to see him broken in half.
“Beck!” I scream, but he’s disappeared under a pile of guys too angry to notice they’re squashing a human being. Ezra dives into the fray to save his brother, and my heart pounds even harder. Finally, the refs get everyone under control. Ezra shirks one’s grasp and wiggles free to check on his brother, who is on his knees in the middle of the ice. Beck spits blood and swipes his mouth clean. With Ezra’s help, he gets onto his feet. The crowd cheers, but Beck is holding his wrist.
“What happened?” Lorelai asks, handing me cheese fries. “I walk away for three minutes, and it all breaks loose.”
“I think Beck is hurt.” I narrow my eyes as if squinting down the rows will do any good. Ezra tosses his equipment to the side to help Beck get his glove off. Coach winces when he gets a good look at Beck’s swollen, incorrectly positioned wrist. I gasp and shimmy out of my row as if I’m going to do something about it. Lorelai grabs my hoodie and pulls me back.
“Pretty sure the medic has it under control.”
I huff and sit back down, annoyed that I won’t get a chance to tell the opposing team what I think of them. She’s probably right, though. If I go down to the box, Beck will scowl me to death anyway. All I can do is sit and watch while the refs run down the clock—no more fights, thank you—and our school cheers our latest win.
Eventually, people file out, leaving a few of us stragglers behind in the stands.
“You want me to wait, or are you riding back with Ez?” Lorelai asks.
I glance down at the box where the coach and Ezra are still waiting to see what the medic says. Most of the team is heading to the locker room, and I doubt Ezra will want to do anything tonight since his brother is busted up bad enough to likely end up at the emergency room.
“Uh, just wait for me. I’ll say bye to Ez, then meet you at the exit.”
Lorelai brushes her hair over her shoulder and smiles. “Okay, don’t be long though. I have an insanely early shift.”
I nod and head down the aisles toward the box. Beck glances up and makes eye contact with me, and I expect a scowl or snarl—his usual expression when I’m anywhere in a ten-foot radius—but he can’t seem to muster the energy. Instead, he searches my face, swallows, and lowers his gaze back to his wrist. There is no doubt it’s broken. I can tell from a few feet away he’s going to end up in a cast by the end of the night, which means he’s out for the season… which is bad.
“Viv, hey, I’m gonna take Beck to the ER. Can Lorelai take you home?” Ezra’s fingers wrap around my elbow, gaining my attention.
“Oh, uh, yeah, she’s waiting for me. I just wanted to make sure Beck was okay, but that looks nasty.”
Ezra brushes his sweaty black hair from his face and frowns. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be a long night. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
I nod. That’s his way of politely telling me to scram so I don’t make Beck’s day worse just by sharing the same airspace with him. I stand on my toes to hug Ezra, holding my breath because while he looks hot in a hockey uniform, he does not smell hot. I glance at Beck once he releases me. He’s staring at us, so I offer a weak smile.
“Sorry about your wrist, Beck. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
He doesn’t respond unless you count a grunt and nod as a response, then lowers his head again. The medic moves his hand slightly, and Beck practically growls in pain. I wince and gasp again, mostly because I’m so used to seeing him with an angry face. Seeing him in pain is… different. Aside from a few freckles across the bridge of his nose, he’s identical to Ezra, but in looks alone. Where Beck is a ferocious polar bear, Ezra is a squishy penguin. A penguin who is urging me to get lost before he has to fuss at his brother for saying mean things to me.
“Night, Ez,” I whisper, and try to pretend seeing Beck in pain doesn’t make me want to do nice things like… like care about it.
I shouldn’t, really, especially since he only ever speaks to me in grunts and one-word sentences, but Ezra adores his twin, so by default, I suppose I have to at least care that he’s in pain. And I do, to my surprise, so when I find my sister waiting for me by the exit as promised, I nudge her and suggest we do something nice for Beck.
“Let’s stop by Oscar’s Burgers and get Beck some food. He’s gonna be a beast as it is, and if he has to sit for X-rays and a cast, he’ll need food.”
“I could go for some Oscar’s too, sure.” She twirls her keys and bites her lip. “You sure it’s not just about seeing Ez?”
I roll my eyes. Lorelai is full-on team Ezra. Has been ever since I told her I have feelings for him, but I am perfectly capable of doing something nice for someone who’s in… okay, yes, I want to see Ezra, but I do want to take food to them also.
“Oh, hush,” I say and shove her out the door.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m just making an observation.” We walk together toward her car, along with a crowd of other people heading toward the main lot. “Is he seriously hurt?”
“I think he broke his wrist, and you know that means he’ll be out for the season. That’s it, no more hockey.” My throat tenses when I think about all of Beck’s dreams going right down the toilet in a wave of stink. With no ice time, no scouts will see him play. No scouts, not a single chance even a minor league team will give him a second look. His dream of playing professional hockey is… over. I stutter step, and Lorelai c
“You okay?”
I clear my throat to ease the sting, a little surprised by the wave of emotion that hits me. “Yeah, I just… it really hit me what this will mean for him.”
“Maybe not. There could have been some scouts or recommendations we don’t know about. Let’s go get some food, and we’ll worry about his hockey career in the morning.”
By the time we reach her car, I’m feeling pretty down for my arch-nemesis, but Lorelai is nothing if not the ultimate cheerer-upper. She blasts music all the way to Oscar’s, sings at the top of her lungs, then blows forty dollars on massive burgers for two men who will, no doubt, be starving by the time we get to the emergency room.
Filmore Valley Hospital, just outside of our little town of Coldstone Creek, is packed solid, so we have to circle a few times before we find a parking space. We have to wait in the waiting room for another ten minutes before Ezra exits to meet us. I hold up two greasy bags, and he grins before pulling me into a hug.
“You’re the best, Viv. Beck’s wrist is definitely broken, but it’s gonna be a while before they can get a cast on.”
Lorelai frowns. “Want us to wait with you?”
Ezra rummages through the bag and grabs a handful of fries, then answers with his mouth full. “Don’t you have an early shift?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but if you need us here, we’ll stay.”
“You can if you want. It’ll be at least two hours, they said. Lemme take him this food, then—”
“I’ll take it. You eat,” I say, motioning toward the seat. He’s always starving after a game, and I want him to eat. I don’t really think my decision through, and I’m heading through the doors when it hits me that I’m about to enter the room of an angry T-rex with a life-altering injury. Maybe the food will distract him long enough for me to escape unscathed.
“Can I help you?” a nurse asks. I’m probably not supposed to be wandering around the ER with a bag of food, and she looks ready to tell me so.
“I was hoping to find Beck Thomas?” I squeak. I can’t decide if I want her to take me to him or give me a reason to run back to the waiting room.
“Oh, sure. He can have visitors for now, but keep it short.” She navigates the hallway, and I follow her all the way to the end, then stand aside while she opens a curtain. Beck’s sitting in a chair instead of on the exam table, and I almost giggle at how silly he looks in a hospital gown. That would be a death sentence, so I bite my tongue and slip into the room.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on me. They slowly shift to the bag.
“I brought you some dinner.”
His lips purse so tight they go white. “I can’t eat a massive burger with one hand, Vivien, but thanks anyway.”
“Well, there’s fries.”
He scowls. “No thanks. I’m too mad to eat.”
His cheeks flame red, and he works his jaw to keep in whatever nasty things he wants to say. Somehow, I know it isn’t me angering him, but it’s still intense standing next to the bear in a hospital gown.
“Okay, I’ll just… should I leave it or…” I step back and forth, unsure where to go or what to do.
He sighs. “Just give it to me. I’ll try.”
I hand him the bag and he plops it on his lap. He crams a few fries into his mouth, then mumbles, “Dang, the burger smells good.”
“I can try to cut it in half if you want,” I offer, but I have no idea what I’ll use to cut it. We’re literally in a hospital, but surely, I can figure out a way to help him eat. A satiated bear is less bearish than one who is both in pain and hungry. I have to try for the nurse’s sake because I’ve heard this man when he doesn’t eat, and it’s not pretty.
I pull the burger out, ignoring the fact that Beck stares up at me with confusion, then try to figure out how to split a massive, four-patty burger with loads of toppings in half. This meal was a horrible idea, and I wonder how Ezra is fairing in the waiting room with his. There is literally no way to cut the thing, and Beck is right. He can’t hold it with one hand, or it’ll spill out the back. With this knowledge, I do the only thing I know to do.
“Here, bite.” I hold the burger up to him, and he blinks. After a moment, I shake the burger. “Eat it, or I will.”
“What?”
My eyes snap to his, mostly because I have never heard such a soft tone slip from the man’s mouth before, especially not when he’s addressing me. He sounds like a completely different person, and I am not prepared for the pain in his eyes. I swallow and inhale slowly.
“You had a rough night, and I’m honestly just trying to make sure you don’t eat a nurse. You two are beasts after a game.” I wiggle the burger again. “Come on, eat it before it gets cold.”
Beck shrugs and leans forward, taking a big bite. His eyes roll back, and he groans. “Oh, that’s so good. Thank you.”
For a while, things are like they were a long time ago, back when we were kids, and we got along a lot better. It isn’t as if we hate each other, but we just don’t mesh. We’ve grown apart, but I don’t like seeing him this way, so it makes me a lot more charitable than I might usually be toward my best friend’s twin.
After a few bites, his face looks like he tried to inhale a vat of barbeque sauce. I lay the burger on the wrapper and cross the room to grab a few paper towels from the dispenser on the wall.
“Here. You look like a toddler,” I tease. My breath catches when his lips turn into the slightest smile, and I realize that could have gone a whole other way. Insulting him while he’s down is probably not the best idea. He wipes his mouth but mostly smears it around, then tries to clean his greasy fingers. Watching him fumble, I know he’s a few seconds away from growling and getting angry that he can’t use his other hand, so I step in again… like a lunatic.
“You’ve got it all the way up to your eye on that side. How did you even—you know what, I’ll get it.” I grab another paper towel and wipe the sauce from his cheeks and chin before grabbing his hand and degreasing his fingers. I’m a little surprised he hasn’t stopped me and yelled at me for treating him like a child, so I take a chance and glance at his face.
He’s back to staring at me like I’m a stranger.
“Um, sorry,” I say and step back. “I was just trying to help.”
The curtain pulls back, and a doctor enters with a clipboard in her hand. The doctor’s gaze shifts from Beck to me, to the burger, then back to Beck, who’s still staring at me. I get the feeling I wasn’t supposed to stuff food into her patient’s mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gets right to it.
“Mr. Thomas, I’m Dr. Ferguson. I’m going to go over the x-rays with you, then we’ll get you in a cast and on your way home.”
I feel like an awkward third wheel, so I wrap everything and cram it back into the bag. Beck glances at me while the doctor loads his X-rays on the computer, nods once, and gives the doctor his full attention. I have officially been dismissed… I think… so I leave the food and head back to the waiting room where my best friend and sister wait for me.
Fortunately, I was not devoured by a T-Rex, which is a brand new high for me.
Chapter Two
Beck
“I’m sorry, Beck.” Ezra takes the turns slowly, but all I want is to get home and fall into my bed. I’m done. The season is over for me, along with everything I ever wanted. “You never know what might happen. Maybe you can still get in the last couple of games of the season, and—”
“Yeah,” I groan. I know he means well, but all I can muster right now is moping.
He quiets down, giving me some space. I have to rethink my entire plan for the future, which is no small feat. Sure, I have backup plans and faith that God will make something work out for me, but what that might be at this moment is unclear. I sigh and lean my head on the window, staring at the streetlights as they pass.
Ezra keeps stealing glances at me but says nothing for several miles. He can’t stand the silence for long, though, so he clears his throat and asks, “Did you get enough to eat, or do you want me to stop somewhere?”
