The Pucking Player

10. Breaking Through

10

brEAKING THROUGH

LIAM

I pull up to Westchester University, my car gliding to a stop in front of Sophie’s dorm. The campus sprawls before me like a winter postcard—snow-dusted brick buildings framed by bare, skeletal trees, glowing faintly under the soft shimmer of twilight. Strings of fairy lights are woven around lampposts, their delicate glimmer casting a magical glow. It’s picturesque, serene, and absolutely nothing like the storm of nerves churning inside me.

I adjust my bow tie in the rearview mirror, giving myself a once-over.

You’re Liam O’Connor. Captain of the Defenders. You’ve scored hat tricks under more pressure than this. Get a grip.

And yet, my palms are clammy against the steering wheel, my heart pounding in double time.

It’s just a gala.

With Sophie Novak on my arm.

A girl who—let’s be real—has lived rent-free in my head since the moment I spotted her last week.

No big deal .

I buzz the intercom, and a cheerful voice crackles through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Sophie Novak.”

There’s a pause, then an unmistakably excited, “Oh! You must be Liam. Come on up!”

The door buzzes open, and I make my way to the third floor. As I round the corner, I spot a statuesque blonde standing in the doorway, her jaw practically hitting the floor when she sees me.

“Hi,” I say, mustering a charming smile as I extend my hand. “I’m Liam, Sophie’s date for the evening.”

The girl snaps out of it, blinking rapidly as she shakes my hand. “Wow, hi. I’m Jenna, Sophie’s roommate. Come in, please. She’s just finishing up.”

I step inside, taking in the cozy living room. It’s small but comfortable, with textbooks scattered across the coffee table and a fuzzy throw draped over the couch. A corkboard on the wall is pinned with photos and memorabilia, including a couple of Defenders game tickets.

I try not to read too much into it.

Jenna closes the door behind me, fidgeting with her sweater. She calls out, “Sophie, your date’s here!” She turns to me, scanning me from head to toe. “So…you’re really tall.”

I laugh, tension loosening just a little. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She nods, eyeing me skeptically, like she’s still deciding whether I’m worthy of her roommate. “Can I get you anything while you wait? Water? Coffee?” She pauses, then blurts out, “A stick to sign for my brother?”

I chuckle, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Water would be great, thanks. And maybe we can sort out the stick situation another time.”

“He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out you were here.” She giggles then busies herself in the kitchenette, but I barely register her movements. My focus shifts as I hear soft footsteps from one of the bedrooms. My heart stumbles, and suddenly, my palms are damp again.

But then Sophie’s voice rings out, light and warm and painfully casual. “I’ll be right there!”

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, trying to remember how to breathe.

And then the door opens.

The first thing I notice is the sound of her heels, soft clicks against the hardwood floor as she steps into the room. Then I see her, and every coherent thought I’ve ever had goes straight out the window.

Holy. Hell.

Sophie Novak isn’t just dressed for the gala; she’s dressed to ruin me. The gown—beige silk, sleek, and impossibly elegant—clings to her curves in a way that’s both maddeningly tempting and utterly refined. The modest neckline hints at perfection without showing too much, but then she shifts slightly, and I catch a glimpse of the back. Or, more accurately, the lack of one. The silk plunges low, exposing smooth, golden skin that has no business being this captivating.

I’m vaguely aware of my pulse hammering in my ears. My hands itch to touch and trace every inch of her. My throat feels dry, like I’ve just skated five overtimes without water.

She looks up, and her green eyes meet mine, wide and uncertain. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, and it hits me like a freight train—she has no idea just how stunning she is.

I realize I’m standing here like an idiot, staring at her with my mouth half-open. Jenna clears her throat, pulling me out of my daze.

Right. Words. I should probably use some of those.

“Sophie,” I manage, my tone hoarse and rough. “You look…” My brain has short-circuited, and the only word I can come up with is, “Spectacular.”

Her blush deepens, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing down like she’s suddenly shy. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

I grin, regaining a sliver of my composure. “I do my best. Although tonight I think I’ll be thoroughly outshined.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the flicker of a smile she’s trying to hide. “Flatterer.”

“Not at all. Just stating facts.” I step closer, offering her my arm. “Shall we?”

Sophie grabs a sleek white coat from a nearby chair, sliding it over her shoulders with a grace that makes my pulse stutter. The coat whispers against her dress as she picks up a sparkly clutch, checking its contents with a final glance before slipping her hand through my waiting arm. Her touch is light, but it sends a warm current through me, grounding me in the moment.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says softly, a small resolute smile on her lips.

We step out into the night, icy air biting at our exposed skin. The winter wind cuts sharp and clean, carrying with it the metallic promise of an incoming storm. The snow crunches underfoot as I guide her toward my car, keeping her close to shield her from the wind. Overhead, the sky is a deep charcoal, the first stray snowflakes swirling in the glow of the streetlights.

I open the passenger door for her, my hand lightly brushing the small of her back as she slips inside. Even bundled up in her coat, she’s breathtaking, her beauty seeming almost otherworldly against the harsh, wintry backdrop. I close the door and circle around to the driver’s side, sliding into the seat and starting the engine. The heated leather warms quickly, but it doesn’t compare to the heat simmering low in my chest every time I glance at her.

The drive to Sleepy Hollow Country Club should only take twenty-five minutes, but the tension in the car makes every second feel stretched and electric. The air between us is thick with heightened awareness. Every shift she makes, every small movement I notice out of the corner of my eye pulls my focus in like gravity.

I clear my throat, trying to break the silence. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks again for doing this. For the team, I mean. The whole PED scandal has been...brutal. We’re worried about losing sponsors, and you doing this with me will help our image.”

“It’s not a big deal, really. I’m hoping to get some benefit out of it too. There should be some pretty important people in the medical field there. It could be good for my future.”

I nod, impressed by how composed and pragmatic she is. “Smart thinking. Speaking of your future, how’s the whole med school thing going? Any top choices yet?”

Her face lights up at the question, and I find myself momentarily lost in the way her eyes sparkle.

“Well, I’ve applied to a bunch of schools. NYU and Columbia are high on my list since they’re close to home, but I’m also really interested in Stanford. Their research in pediatric medicine is groundbreaking.”

“Stanford, huh?” I say, ignoring the pang in my chest at the thought of her being clear across the country. “California would be a pretty big change from New York winters.”

She laughs, the sound like warm honey in the frigid air of the car. “That’s definitely part of the appeal. Although I’d miss the snow. Sometimes.”

The way her laugh fills the space between us, soft and unguarded, has me gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. I can’t stop glancing at her as she continues, her voice animated, her passion contagious. It’s not just that she’s beautiful—though she is—there’s also a fire in her, this drive that’s as captivating as anything I’ve ever seen.

Before I know it, the Sleepy Hollow Country Club looms in the distance, its grand facade glowing with opulence. As I pull into the circular driveway and park, I glance over at Sophie, nerves creeping back into my chest.

“Ready to knock ‘em dead, future Doctor Novak?” I say lightly.

She takes a steadying breath, her shoulders squaring as she meets my gaze. “Bring it on, Captain.”

I step out, coming around to open her door before the valet can beat me to it. She slips her hand into mine as she steps out, and the contact sends a jolt through me, my pulse skipping as her skin brushes against mine. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I keep her hand in mine, holding it like we’re more to each other than we really are. She glances at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. And damn if I don’t revel in the sensation, her warmth threading through me as we head toward the grand entrance.

After leaving our coats, we step into the ballroom and are hit with a wave of warmth and decadence. Glittering chandeliers cast a golden glow across the room, illuminating polished marble floors and the sea of tuxedos and gowns. Every detail screams extravagance, from the towering floral arrangements to the champagne flutes being offered on silver trays. It’s the kind of place that feels almost surreal, like something out of a dream.

Beside me, Sophie hesitates, her fingers tensing slightly. It’s subtle, the kind of thing most people wouldn’t notice, but I feel it. I lean down, my voice low and teasing. “You okay there, angel?”

She glances up at me, her eyes wide and uncertain. “There are a lot of people here,” she whispers.

I grin, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Worst case, we cause a scene and make a quick getaway. I hear tuxedos are great for climbing out of windows.”

That earns me a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I’d pay good money to see you try to climb out of a window in that tux.”

“Hey now,” I tease. “I’d pull it off with grace and style. It’s a very niche skill set.”

As we banter, I guide us deeper into the ballroom, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. I hand one to Sophie, my fingers brushing hers as I do. The sparks that shoot up my arm at the brief contact are almost enough to make me drop the glass.

“Ready to mingle with the crème de la crème of the medical world?” I ask, raising my glass in a mock toast. “Fair warning, I may need you to translate. The only doctor lingo I know involves words like ‘concussion protocol’ and ‘career-ending injury.’”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is bright and genuine. “I think we’ll manage. Just follow my lead, be friendly, and try not to mention any bodily functions.”

“There go all my best icebreakers.” I sigh, earning another laugh. “Guess I’ll just have to rely on my good looks and sparkling personality. ”

As I sip my champagne, I spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd toward us, Alan Bradshaw, CEO of HealthFirst. His wide grin and booming voice precede him, making it clear he’s the kind of guy who never enters a room quietly.

“Liam, my boy!” Alan claps me on the shoulder, his energy as overwhelming as ever. “That last game of yours—two goals and an assist! You’re single-handedly keeping our ticket sales through the roof!”

“Just keeping my part of the deal, Alan,” I reply with a grin, shaking his hand. “Can’t let those season ticket holders get bored, right?”

Alan laughs heartily, then turns to Sophie, his eyes lighting up with interest. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

I shift slightly, guiding Sophie into the conversation. “Alan, this is Sophie Novak. Sophie, meet Alan Bradshaw, CEO of HealthFirst.”

Alan’s eyes widen. “Novak? Any relation to Coach Novak?”

Sophie smiles warmly. “He’s my father.”

“Well, well!” Alan’s grin widens. “A family of champions!”

Sophie, poised as ever, corrects, “Actually, I’m studying pre-med at Westchester University.”

If possible, Alan’s grin stretches even wider. “An aspiring doctor! That’s fantastic! You know, HealthFirst is always on the lookout for bright young minds in the medical field. We have an excellent internship program. You should give me a call.”

Sophie’s eyes widen, her excitement palpable. “That sounds incredible, Mr. Bradshaw. I’d love to learn more about it. ”

They dive headfirst into a conversation about medical advancements and internship opportunities. Sophie handles herself with such poise and confidence, it’s like watching a seasoned diplomat at work. She laughs at Alan’s anecdotes, asks insightful questions, and responds with thoughtful comments. She’s not just holding her own, she’s shining.

I catch her eye over Alan’s shoulder and shoot her a subtle thumbs-up. She glances my way, a quick wink accompanying a sly smile that sends a bolt of heat straight through me. Damn, she’s something else.

After a while, Alan spots someone across the room and excuses himself with a promise to “catch up properly” later.

“Well, that was productive,” I say, turning to Sophie.

She beams, a flush of excitement coloring her cheeks. “I can’t believe he just offered me an internship. It could be an amazing opportunity.”

“I had no doubt you’d charm the pants off him.”

She laughs softly. “Is that your metric for success?”

“Depends on the context,” I reply with a wink.

As we move toward the dining area, the ballroom transforms into a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Tables draped in lustrous linens stretch out before us, each adorned with centerpieces of cascading flowers and flickering candles that cast a warm, golden glow. Crystal chandeliers hang like floating stars from the vaulted ceiling.

“Fancy enough for you?” I murmur, leaning in so only she can hear.

She glances around. “I feel like I should leave a glass slipper behind when we go.”

I pull out her chair, the gesture earning me a grateful smile. “Well, Cinderella, let’s hope this ball lasts a bit longer. I’m quite enjoying having the most stunning woman in the room on my arm.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush that blooms across her cheeks betrays her. “You and your silver tongue.”

“Just speaking the truth,” I say, taking my seat beside her.

As the first course is served, I notice Sophie’s attention snagged by the older gentleman seated on her other side. Her eyes light up with recognition.

“Dr. Goldstein?” she says, her voice tinged with awe. “I attended your lecture on advancements in pediatric oncology at NYU last semester. It was absolutely riveting.”

The man turns, his bushy eyebrows arching in surprise. “Well, I’ll be. Yes, I remember you! You asked that excellent question about immunotherapy applications in young patients.”

I suppress a grin. Of course she did.

Sophie’s face radiates enthusiasm. “Your work has been so influential in my decision to pursue pediatric medicine. It’s an honor to meet you again.”

And just like that, they’re off, delving into a conversation rich with terms like “cytokine storms” and “CAR T-cell therapy.” To me, it’s a foreign language, but watching her animated expressions and the passionate way she engages is nothing short of mesmerizing.

I lean back, content to observe. Her hands gesture elegantly as she speaks, her eyes sparkling with intellect and curiosity. It’s like watching a maestro conduct a symphony.

“Lost in translation?” a soft voice asks beside me.

I turn to find a woman, blonde and impeccably dressed, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Something like that,” I admit .

“Medical jargon,” she says knowingly. “My husband’s a surgeon. I’ve learned to nod and smile.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but I have to say, it’s impressive. She’s...impressive.”

The woman follows my gaze back to Sophie, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. “That she is. You’re a lucky man.”

I glance back at Sophie, who’s laughing at something Dr. Goldstein said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. A warmth spreads in my chest. “Yeah,” I agree quietly, “I am.”

After what feels like both an eternity and a blink, the lights dim slightly as the band begins to play a slow, sultry tune. The soft strains of a saxophone weave through the air, wrapping around us like a velvet ribbon.

I decide I’ve been patient long enough.

Rising from my seat, I extend my hand toward her. “May I have this dance, angel?”

Dr. Goldstein nods approvingly and pats her hand. “Go on, my dear. The science will still be here when you return.”

Sophie looks up at me, surprise flickering across her face, quickly replaced by a flash of something dark and smoldering, like a flame daring me to get closer. “I suppose I can spare a dance,” she says carefully, placing her delicate hand in mine.

I lead her onto the dance floor, the world narrowing to just the two of us. Turning to face her, I rest a hand on the small of her back, her silken skin smooth beneath my fingers. The heat of her body seeps into me, and I pull her closer.

“This might not be such a good idea,” she whispers, her breath ghosting over my lips.

I tilt my head, a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth. “Quite the contrary. It’s the best idea.”

She bites her lower lip, and the sight sends a bolt of desire straight through me. “You’re the definition of trouble,” she murmurs.

“Absolutely,” I agree, beginning to sway to the music. “Just the kind of trouble you need.”

Her lips curve into a soft smile, and she relaxes into me. We move together effortlessly, as if we’ve danced this dance a hundred times before. The world around us blurs, the other couples fading into a hazy backdrop.

Her scent envelops me—a soft mix of vanilla and something entirely, irresistibly her. It’s delicate yet consuming, a quiet spell that tugs me deeper into her orbit. I shift our clasped hands slightly, using my thumb to graze her lower lip. She trembles at the touch, and my restraint slips just enough to lean in, brushing my lips over hers. The kiss is barely there, light, tentative, but it causes her to shiver.

“This pretty mouth belongs to me tonight,” I murmur, my voice thick with need as I tug her even closer.

“You’re bossy,” she whispers, her breath warm against my mouth, her gaze fixed on mine.

A low, involuntary rumble escapes me, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Only if you want me to,” I say, my thumb still lightly stroking hers. My other hand explores the smooth lines of her back, brushing over her shoulder blades as her soft, hitching breath fans against my neck. Every point of contact sends sparks flying—her hand warm in mine, her body aligning perfectly with the planes of my own. The thin fabric of her dress does little to mask the heat burning between us.

She shifts slightly, her thigh brushing against mine, and it’s all I can do to maintain control. A fierce desire surges within me, raw and urgent.

I need to make this girl mine .

“You’re a dangerous man, Liam O’Connor.” Her voice is barely audible over the music.

“Do you like that?” I ask, my lips hovering close to her ear.

She trembles, a delicate tremor that I feel beneath my fingertips. “And what if I do?”

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

The song winds down, but neither of us moves to separate. The air is charged with an electricity that sets my nerves alight.

“Another dance?” I ask, unwilling to let her go.

She just nods. But as the next song begins, the soft melody is suddenly interrupted by a sharp crackle over the speakers. The band halts, and a voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, dragging us back to reality.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the interruption,” the announcer says, their tone calm but urgent. “We’ve just received an update on the weather. The snowstorm originally forecast for tomorrow has arrived earlier than expected, and conditions are deteriorating rapidly.”

Sophie stiffens in my arms, her shoulders going tight like a coiled spring. Not the worst thing in the world, I tell myself, since it means I get to hold her. My hand presses firmly against the curve of her back, keeping her steady. “Relax, angel,” I murmur, savoring the excuse to keep her right where I want her. “I’ve got you.”

The voice continues, “For your safety, we strongly recommend that you consider leaving soon. For those uncomfortable driving, we’ve arranged accommodations at nearby hotels. Please see the staff at the information desk for assistance.”

The hum of the crowd grows louder, a ripple of concern and quiet panic sweeping through the room. People reach for their phones, check weather apps, whisper in hurried tones. The glittering atmosphere of the gala dims, the weight of reality pressing down.

I tilt my head down toward Sophie, catching her worried gaze. “You okay?” I murmur, my voice low.

She nods but doesn’t say anything, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as the announcer wraps up. “Road conditions will be updated regularly. Please use caution and thank you for your understanding.”

As the room erupts into a flurry of activity, people gathering their coats, calling for rides, or debating their next move, I guide Sophie off the dance floor, threading us through the crowd until we reach a quieter corner. I take her hands in mine.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Should we try to head back?”

She glances toward the large windows where snow is falling harder now, thick flakes sticking to the glass in an almost hypnotic swirl. “Tarrytown isn’t that far. And my campus is on the way. If we leave now, we might beat the worst of it.”

I nod, the familiar edge of adrenaline kicking in, like right before the first puck drop. “Yes. Better to move now than risk being stuck here all night.”

A part of me whispers that being snowed in with Sophie wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but I shove the thought aside.

We weave our way to the coat check, the room buzzing with a mix of urgency and resignation. I grab both our coats and help Sophie slip hers on, unable to resist brushing my fingers lightly over her shoulder as I adjust the collar. She looks up at me with a small smile, and for a moment, I’m distracted by how damn perfect she looks, even with the storm brewing around us.

Outside, the world has transformed into a swirling white abyss. Snowflakes fall thick and fast, carpeting everything in sight, muffling sound and turning the parking lot into a hive of frenetic activity. People scrape ice off windshields, stomp their shoes, and rush to warm up their cars. The air is sharp and cold, each breath visible in the frosty night.

I tighten my arm around Sophie’s waist as I guide her toward my car, keeping her steady on the slick pavement. Her heels slip slightly on the icy ground, and I pull her closer, steadying her with a grin. “Careful, Cinderella. Don’t lose a shoe on me.”

She laughs, a mix of nerves and amusement. “You’re not exactly the perfect glass slipper type, Liam.”

“True,” I admit, smirking as I open her door. “But I do drive a pretty good carriage. Ready for an adventure?”

Her eyes meet mine, that spark of humor and determination I’ve come to adore lighting her expression. “As long as this carriage doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, Prince Charming.”

I chuckle, the sound a low rumble as I help her inside, careful to shield her from the falling snow. “I think we’ll be fine.”

Once she’s settled, I close her door and jog around to the driver’s side, the cold biting at my face and hands. I slide into the seat and start the engine, its low hum breaking the stillness.

The dashboard lights up, the navigation display showing the quickest route back. But as the windshield wipers swipe at the heavy snow, I realize tonight might not be as simple as following the GPS.