After a few minutes of lying in bed together, Beckett loosens his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.
"Early practice today. Big game tonight." He says softly, sliding out from underneath you. You frown at the sudden disappearance of his warmth.
"Tell Coach you're busy." You say, sitting up and crossing your arms across your chest.
He chuckles and leans forward, his hands supporting his upper body on the mattress. You can see his muscles flexing, and you bring your hands up, resting them on his arms.
"If I could shut out everything to spend the day with you, I would." He says, leaning forward and kissing you softly. "But Coach would have my head on a stake if I skipped this practice."
You roll your eyes but smile, kissing him once more. "Fine. I have studio time today anyway."
He grins and straightens back up. "You have a muse?"
You smirk, glancing at his shirtless form. "Something like that."
He walks toward the bathroom, grabbing his bag on the way. "Can't wait to see it."
You smile at him as he disappears into the bathroom. Once the door clicks shut, you lie back on the bed, not able to stop smiling.
You listen as he starts the shower and can't help but notice how your heart swells at the domesticity of it all.
Just twenty‑four hours ago, you were oblivious to how Beckett really felt about you; now you can't stop replaying the way his hands traced down your body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere they touched.
You replay the way his lips moved so carefully against yours, then wandered lower, mapping the rest of your body with patient devotion. The way he kept tending to you--gentle, attentive, so unmistakably Beckett--settles warm in your chest. No one has ever touched you the way he did last night, and you realize you're completely, irrevocably hooked; and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.
You're pulled from your thoughts when Beckett opens the bathroom door. He's still shirtless, but he's got his practice pants on. His hair is damp and messy, falling across his forehead in waves.
You stand from the bed and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stretch up on your tiptoes and hug him close. He wraps his arms around you immediately, letting out a breath. "What's this for?" He asks softly against your hair.
You smile, still holding him close. "Last night." You say softly, pulling back to look up at him. His features are soft and a smile forms on his lips.
"I feel like I should be thanking you for that." He says, smirking.
"I'm being serious, Ford." You say, playfully smacking his chest. "You showed me what it feels like to be loved." You look down at your feet, a blush creeping up your cheeks.
He hooks his finger under your chin, nudging your face up to look at him. When you do, he leans in and kisses your cheek, then your forehead. "You deserve to know. If I'm the one who gets to show you...That's more than I could ever dream of." He lets out a breath, shaking his head. "That's all I ever want for you, Maren. Someone who truly loves you."
You take in a breath and shake your head. "You're the only one." You whisper, voice thick with tears. You clear your throat and try again. "You're the only one who does."
He smiles softly, kissing your lips. "Always will." He kisses you again before pulling away. He digs in his bag and pulls out a white t-shirt, pulling it over his head. He slings his bag over his shoulder and gives you a crooked grin. "See you at lunch?"
You nod, grinning at him. "Save you a seat."
He winks, then heads out the door toward the athletic department. You head to the bathroom and get ready for the day.
Later, you're setting up your canvas in the studio when Priya walks in. You look up at her with a smile, and she sits down on the stool beside you.
"What's new?" She asks, raising an eyebrow knowingly.
You look at her and roll your eyes. "Dakota can't keep her mouth shut to save her life."
Priya laughs, pulling out her own canvas to set up. "No, she cannot." She gets her canvas in place, then looks back over at you. "So, what happened?"
You shrug, organizing your paint to avoid eye contact. "Beckett and I got into an argument.. About Jasper."
She raises her eyebrows at that, leaning forward. "Jasper?"
You nod. "The protective order expired yesterday. He came to find me and I didn't really know what to say when he asked if we could meet up to talk.. So I didn't say anything."
Priya listens, shaking her head slightly. "Asshole."
You scoff, nodding in agreement. "Indeed. But, I told Beckett what happened yesterday evening, and he got really upset that I didn't tell Jasper to go to Hell."
Priya chuckles. "Rightfully so."
You nod. "But, he told me how hard it was to be around me while I'm with someone who is actively hurting me. So, I asked him why he stuck around if it's so hard for him.."
Priya's eyebrows shoot up. "Damn, girl. You went for the heart."
You shrug. "I was upset. But, when I asked him that, he just kind of..blew up. He told me he was in love with me and that's why he stays."
Priya grins, clapping her hands together. "Yes, yes, yes! This is perfect!" She sets up her paint. "How do you feel about it all?"
You chuckle, grabbing your paintbrush. "I feel...lighter." You say, sighing as you make your first strokes. "I feel like nothing with Beckett has changed, but at the same time, everything has changed."
Priya focuses her attention on her canvas, too. "Everything has changed. But for the good." She says softly as she paints. "You and Beckett have always been on another level from everyone else. You all just...get each other. Why do you think he drove Jasper insane? Nobody could ever come close to touching what you two have."
You paint, letting her words land hard in your chest. The truth you've denied for too many years of your life. The time you've wasted on people who could never love you the way you needed.
"We've been attached at the hip since we were eight." You say quietly. "Our moms were best friends. We've spent more nights together than not. We've had so many sleepovers that I couldn't even begin to count them all. Sometimes we'd stay at each other's houses for weeks at a time." You smile at the memories.
Priya hums once beside you. "You two are the epic love story."
You stop painting, looking over at her with furrowed brows. "Epic love story?"
She grins. "Epic love story. Best friends since childhood. Repressed feelings. Years of heartache only to realize that what you needed was right beside you all along?" She swoons dramatically. "I'd watch that movie."
You roll your eyes. "You're dramatic. There's nothing epic about it. I was just stupid for too many years."
She snorts as you both begin painting again. "You weren't stupid. You just didn't want to see what was right in front of you because you were scared."
You nod, shrugging. "I guess you're right. I've always felt something different for Beck. It just seemed easier to stay friends than make everything complicated with feelings."
She glances over at you. "And was it easier?"
You sigh. "I don't know. Probably not. Especially for Beckett."
Priya nods, glancing at your painting. You've painted soft, purple edges that fade into pink and violet. The outline of two hands, fingertips meeting gently, starts in the middle of the canvas.
Priya smirks. "He got you good last night, didn't he?"
A blush rises to your cheeks, and you kick her stool playfully. "Shut up."
She laughs, continuing to paint her wildflower patch. You both paint in silence for the rest of your time there, only breaking it to crack random jokes or comment on the paintings.
At lunchtime, you leave your canvas to dry, then put away your supplies after washing your brushes. You sling your bag over your shoulder and head to the cafeteria. Once you order your food, you sit in the back booth, your usual booth. A few minutes later, Beckett slides in beside you, his arm going around your shoulders.
You smile up at him, and he leans down, kissing you softly. "How was practice?"
He shrugs, stealing a fry from your plate. "It went well. Coach pulled me to his office after."
You furrow your brow. "What'd he want?"
Beckett leans back in the booth, running his hand through his hair. "Apparently, a scout is coming to the game tonight. For me."
Your jaw drops and you sit up straighter, looking at him. "That's great, Beck!"
He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It is. And to beat it all, they're being sent by the Rams."
You cock your head to the side, noting the hesitation in his tone. "That's your favorite team. Why don't you sound excited?"
He shrugs. "If I go to the NFL, I'd be making more money than I could ever dream of while playing a game that I love.."
You run your fingers through his hair. "But...?"
He sighs, leaning into your touch. "But I wouldn't be able to go to veterinary school."
You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. "So you feel like you have to choose."
He nods, kissing the top of your head. "I'd be able to buy my parents a house. Your parents. My sister." He leans forward and picks at his fries. "I love the game."
You nod. "You always have."
He nods. "I'm jumping too far ahead. Who even knows if the scout will like me?"
You scoff. "Beck, you're the star wide receiver. There's a reason they're even coming here in the first place."
He rolls his eyes. "I just catch the ball. It's not that big of a deal."
"Yeah, 72 times out of 105." You say, popping a fry in your mouth. "Admit it, Ford. You're a powerhouse."
He squints his eyes at you. "Stop keeping up with my stats."
You grin. "Never. I'm proud of you."
He chuckles, taking a bite of his burger. "You're coming tonight, right?"
You nod. "Of course I am."
He smiles, lacing his fingers through yours. "You're the best."
"I know." You say. He laughs, rolling his eyes.
After you leave your last class of the day, you go back to your dorm to get ready for the game. Dakota is already there, throwing her hair up in a ponytail. She's wearing her cheer uniform.
"Hey!" She says, grinning as you walk through the door. "Ready for the game?"
"About to be." You say, walking past her to your dresser. "A scout is coming to watch Beckett."
She spins around, her ponytail flying around to her other shoulder. "Really?!"
You nod, changing into your team t-shirt, Beckett's number proudly printed on the front and back. "From his favorite team, too."
Dakota grins. "That's so exciting!"
You nod. "I think he's nervous. He wants to continue to grad school but can't if he decides to go pro."
She frowns. "NFL is a lot of money."
You shrug. "Animals are his passion."
She sighs. "He'll make the right call."
You nod, pulling your hair into a ponytail. "I know. I just hate seeing him so stressed."
"You'll help him. And, whatever he chooses, he knows you'll be there. That matters." She fixes her skirt and puts her backpack on. "I'll see you there, Mare."
You wave and then look at yourself in the mirror, smiling at Beckett's number on your shirt. You shoot him a quick "Good luck" text and head out the door toward the stadium.
David Booth Kansas Memorial Stadium is electric when you arrive. You make your way to the student section and slide in beside Priya. She starts talking about her latest muse as you wait for the game to begin.
When the stadium lights change, your eyes go to the field. The announcer introduces the Jayhawks, and the team charges onto the field. The crowd erupts in applause and cheers. Your eyes scan the sideline until you find Beckett, helmet in hand as he jokes with one of his teammates. His eyes scan the student section until they meet yours, and he grins. You smile back at him, and he continues his conversation on the sideline.
The coin flip gives the Jayhawks the ball, and you watch as Beckett jogs onto the field, getting into position.
In the first drive of the game, Beckett catches a pass for a twenty-four-yard run. The crowd explodes, and Beckett jumps up from the tackle, celebrating the run.
The game goes on like that for the next two quarters. Beckett has an amazing game, catching all four passes thrown to him.
A few minutes before half-time, the quarterback throws the ball to Beckett. He jumps up to catch it at the same time a defending player goes for the tackle. The defending player's shoulder pads hit Beckett with a sickening force, slamming the back of his helmet against the ground as he lands.
Your heart sinks, and you stand, your eyes not leaving Beckett. The stadium grows quiet as Beckett lies motionless where he landed. Your breathing is quick and shallow, tears burn your eyes, but you don't dare even blink. Priya's hand finds yours, but you barely feel it.
Trainers run out to the field as the players kneel. Beckett still hasn't moved, and you see one of the trainers motion toward the sideline. Your heart nearly stops when you see what he was motioning for. Your feet move before your brain registers.
The ambulance slowly drives onto the field as you run through the crowd, toward the field entrance. The first one to see you is the Offensive Coordinator. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you toward Beckett.
"Is he awake?" You ask, trying to see him around the paramedics who are working on loading him onto the spine board.
"No." You hear one of the trainers say to you. Nausea hits you in violent waves as you watch them carefully roll him onto the board and load him into the ambulance. Once he is in the back, you grab the handles on the back of the ambulance, pulling yourself up.
The EMT moves aside, letting you crawl in to sit in the seat beside Beckett. Tears fall down your cheeks as you sit down and put on the seatbelt.
Beckett still hasn't moved, so your focus is on the sound of the heart monitor telling you that he's still alive. Anything else can be dealt with.
So, you close your eyes and focus on his heartbeat until you feel the ambulance come to a stop at the hospital.