30. Liam
THIRTY
LIAM
I’ve worked hard to be in the position I am as starting goalie, but it’s nice to have a night off now and then. It’s nice to take a breather during back-to-back games. It’s nice to sit on the bench and watch my teammates play instead of tracking the puck for sixty minutes. They’re way more fun than vulcanized rubber.
And having the night off while we play the worst team in the league is a treat.
I’m exhausted from this last week.
Vegas.
Piper.
Getting married.
Three games, two wins and a loss.
Piper .
One accidental sleepover turned into another one two nights ago. We stayed up late talking about nothing and everything. Stupid shit. Deep shit. Funny shit. I told her about my early days as a college player. She shared the stories about her first exposure to hockey and how quickly she fell in love with the sport.
The other times she comes over and we hang out, Pico will curl up between us. She’ll stroke his fur as she hooks an ankle over my calf, a smile on her mouth while I tell her about the hoops I had to jump through to get the stubborn cat back to the States with me.
It feels so fucking easy , but everything with Piper is easy.
The buzzer sounds at the end of the second period, and I stand with the rest of the guys. I take my time skating to the tunnel, grateful not to have to spend intermission on a trainer’s table because my legs are sore as shit.
“Lucky bastard,” Maverick grumbles as he passes me. “I wish I could have the night off.”
“Seems like you do with how terribly you’re playing,” Hudson says, and I smirk.
“Fuck you, Hayes,” Maverick tosses back, but there’s no bite behind it. Those two are best friends and calling each other on their shit is practically a love language. “Maybe you could try for an assist in the third period instead of hanging back and fixing your hair while the rest of us are in the offensive zone.”
“Says the guy who looks in the mirror more than anyone I know,” I throw in, and Hudson grins my way.
“Knew you were on my side, Sully.”
I hop off the ice and glance around the tunnel, looking for Piper. I couldn’t find her during the first intermission and figured she was interviewing Coach, but I still don’t see her.
Another quick scan leaves me empty-handed. I frown and glance around again.
“Have you seen Piper?” I ask Hudson, and he shakes his head.
“No. Haven’t seen her since the game the day before yesterday.”
“Excuse me.” A microphone gets thrust in my face and I whip my head to the left. A guy who can’t be over twenty is blinking up at me. The polo shirt he’s wearing has a stain on the collar, and he doesn’t have a badge, just a name tag that says Dusty on it. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Oh, no.” Hudson sighs. “Wrong move, kid. Never ask Liam Sullivan if you can ask him a few questions. You’re not going to like the answer.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I practically growl.
“I’m, uh, the fill-in reporter for tonight’s game.”
“What the fuck is a fill in reporter?”
“Maybe I should talk to someone else,” Dusty sputters.
“No, you’re talking to me. Where’s Piper?”
“I-I don’t know. I’m usually the sound guy, but I got a text an hour ago from my boss saying I needed to cover the rinkside reporter spot tonight.”
I sidestep past him and hightail it to the locker room. I ignore my teammates and shove the door open, making my way to my locker. Using my teeth, I pull of my gloves and grab my phone. My notifications show I don’t have any missed calls or texts or communication at all from her, and that really fucking worries me.
I stopped by her place last night, dropping off dinner on my way home from weight training. She seemed fine when I left, teasing me and calling me a bench warmer ahead of tonight’s game.
Hitting her contact info, I press my phone to my ear, waiting for her to answer.
“Pick up,” I mumble. “Come on, Sunshine. Pick up.”
When she doesn’t, I almost break the phone in two. I storm to the athletic trainers’ room and barge inside.
“Liam?” Lexi looks up from the whiteboard on her lap. “Are you having hamstring tightness?”
“Where’s Piper?” I ask.
“She said she had a migraine and wouldn’t make it tonight. That was a couple hours ago, and I haven’t heard from her since.”
I curse under my breath and make my way back to the locker room. I sit on the bench in front of my cubby and stare at the floor, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
“Hey.” Hudson clasps my shoulder and I look up at him. “You good?”
“Piper isn’t here. Lexi said she had a migraine. She never misses work, so if she’s sick, it must be bad.”
“Okay.” He sits next to me. “Did you try to call her?”
“Yeah. No answer.”
“Try again. We have a few minutes before we need to be back on the ice. If she doesn’t answer this time, text her.”
I know his advice is good, so I listen to him. She doesn’t answer the second time, and it’s hard to not let panic claw at my throat.
“What should I say?” I ask.
“See where she is and if she needs anything. Hopefully you get a response by the end of the game.”
My thumbs fly across the screen, typing out a message.
Me
Hey. Can’t find you at the game. Lexi said you have a migraine.
Do you need anything? I can stop by after.
I lock my phone and tuck it under a jersey. If Coach catches me with it, he’ll make me skate laps until I collapse. “Done.”
“Nothing you can do but wait, man.”
“How are you so good at all of this?”
“What, communicating with people?” Hudson teases. “Thank my parents. My mom and dad had a great relationship. They talked about everything. I grew up learning to share what I’m feeling instead of letting it fester into something toxic and unfixable because two people don’t want to be honest with each other.”
“Sounds horrible,” I say.
“It kind of is. The truth hurts sometimes.”
I’ve never missed a day of practice.
I’ve never not dressed because of sickness or fatigue.
I’ve never left a game early, but I’m considering it tonight.
This sport is my fucking life , but what good is that life if someone I care about needs me and I can’t be there?
I drop my head back and groan.
I told Piper she’s my best friend, and I wasn’t lying. I’m happier when she’s around. Everything is more tolerable when she’s there, too, and her absence is noticeable.
So is my attraction to her.
I’ve been trying to fight it.
Even more so now that we’re fucking married , but it’s getting harder to deny and hide.
My head is screaming at me to go check on her. To say fuck hockey and make sure she’s okay, because suddenly waiting twenty more minutes seems like too long to find out.
“What if I left early?” I say under my breath. “I wouldn’t sit the third period.”
“You’d be fined,” Hudson says.
“Don’t give a shit about that.”
“Do you want to leave early?”
The only thing I want is to know she’s okay.
I’m sure she is.
She probably turned off her phone and fell asleep. She probably wouldn’t want me to bother her.
“No.” I stand and grab my gloves. “We still have work to do on the ice.”
He glances up at me with a slow smile. “You like her.”
“Everyone likes Piper.”
“You like her. You care about her. You also care about your job, and you’re not sure how to balance the two.”
I grind my teeth together. “You’re an observant motherfucker. Doesn’t matter if I like her. We’re never going to be anything except friends.”
“Right.” He stands too and smirks. “Sure you aren’t.”
The third period drags on forever. I keep checking the clock, finding only seconds have passed. I tap my skate, now wishing I was in the goal instead of on the bench and stewing in my thoughts.
When the final buzzer sounds, I’m the first one on my feet. Skating to the locker room like a bat out of hell. I ditch my gear and stand there shirtless, checking my phone, and not finding a response from her.
I scrub my hand over my face and sigh.
She’s fine .
Perfectly fine.
But when Hudson’s eyes meet mine from across the room and he tips his head to the side, mouthing the word go , I know where I need to be.
Where I want to be.
I’ll make up an excuse for my departure later.
I change out of my jersey and pads, reluctantly putting my suit back on and heading for the garage. The drive to her apartment feels like it stretches for hours. When I finally park and make it up to her floor, I gently knock on her door.
“Piper?” I call out, trying to keep my voice from being too loud. “It’s me. Are you in there?”
What if she passed out and hit her head?
What if she threw up on herself?
What if she’s hurting so badly she can’t walk?
The door clicks unlocked and opens. Piper stands in front of me with a blanket draped over her head and body, and my heart nearly stops at the sight of her.
She looks exhausted.
Physically worn out and sleep deprived.
“Liam?” She squints at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Lexi told me you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to come by and see how you were doing.”
“I’m okay.” Piper winces and steps back, feebly motioning me inside the dark foyer. “Headache turned into a migraine, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to be around the bright lights at the game.”
“Did you take your medicine?”
She yawns and wraps the blanket tighter around her. “I haven’t filled it yet this month. I forgot.”
“What good is this marriage if you’re not going to use it for things you need?”
Her cheeks flush and she shrugs. “I was going to do it this week. I’ve been pain-free so much lately, I got cocky.”
“You’ll fill it tomorrow and use my name so you can get it rush delivered?”
“Yeah. I’ll fill it tomorrow. Did you come from the game? Did we win?”
“Four to one. Petersen did well in the goal.”
“Better than you?”
“You know the answer to that.” I step into her apartment and shut the door softly behind me. I cup her face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over her cheeks. She’s burning up, her skin hot to the touch. “I was worried about you. What can I do to help?”
“You don’t have to help. I know how to deal with it by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Just because you know how to do things by yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. Where were you before I got here?”
“My room.”
Piper walks down the hall, and I follow behind her. I’m practically vibrating with nervous energy. I want to make sure she has water. I want to make sure she has enough blankets. I want to do whatever I can to take the pain away from her, because I don’t like seeing her so small and hurting.
She slips under the covers. Her eyes flutter closed and her nose scrunches up, a cute line of wrinkles forming between her eyebrows.
“Did you text me?” she asks.
“Yeah. When you didn’t answer, I wanted to come by and check in.”
“The light from the screen hurts my head, so I turned my phone off.”
“I figured as much. Also thought you might’ve fallen and hit your head.”
“Not this time.” She fumbles with the items on her bedside table and lets out a strangled groan. “Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I left my headache hat in the freezer. It helps with the?—”
I’m heading toward the kitchen before she can finish that sentence. I pull open her freezer and find a sealed bag in the front of the drawer with some sort of black Velcro contraption inside. I pick it up, cursing at how cold it is, and turn for her room.
“This shit is freezing,” I say, and her laugh is quiet. “You put this on your head?”
“It helps with the pain. The numbness is nice.” Piper sets a washcloth on her forehead and holds out her hand. I unzip the bag and set the headache hat in her palm, watching her slide it over her hair until it covers her eyes. “Oh, that’s much better.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“More sleep. I’m so tired. I’m going to rest my eyes for a while.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Good.” Her smile is warm. A sight that makes me tingly and confused and elated all at once. “That makes me really happy.”