Chapter 33 Liam
Liam
Liam: Hey Mad girl. Got time to talk soon?
There it is. I finally sent it. Sure, it’s taken me two weeks to work up the courage, but it happened. I extended an olive branch, and now it’s her turn to respond.
Maddie: …
I watch the dots appear, then disappear, then reappear again.
And then nothing. Nothing for the next 30 minutes as I stare at my phone.
It’s maddening, and if I keep doing it, I’m going to drive myself to drink from sheer anxiety.
I force myself to leave my phone on the counter and walk away as I tell myself it’s perfectly fine if she takes her time answering.
After pacing the room for another twenty minutes, Walker tosses his Xbox controller onto the table with a loud bang before turning to me.
“Okay, man. Go get changed, we’re going for a run. I can’t stand watching you stress for another minute.”
I flip him off, but I head to my room to grab my running shoes, anyway. I’ll try anything to get my mind off waiting for her text.
Our run is uneventful except for expending nervous energy. When we return, I’m still stressed, but I feel a bit more hopeful, and when my phone lights up with a text notification, I can’t help but smile. Until I see that it’s from Damon, and that Walker also got the same message.
It’s an invitation for dinner tonight after the game. Apparently, Joslyn’s son plays for Philly, and they want to do a big dinner with some of the team. I’m always down to eat expensive steak on someone else’s dime, so I agree immediately.
“You in?” I ask Walker.
“Free food. Hells yeah!” he says. “Damn, her son is Sebastian Robertson.”
Holy shit! Her kid’s a phenom. He was a first-round draft pick a few years ago.
Not sure how I didn’t see the connection before.
The red hair alone should have tipped me off.
We’ve been watching tape on the kid for the last couple of days in anticipation of this game.
Well, at least the dinner will be interesting, even if I still haven’t heard from my Mad girl.
The game against the Philadelphia Panthers is exactly what I thought it would be.
A battle on all fronts. They’re an extremely physical team that likes to skirt the line on their hits, and one of their defensemen in known more for his time in the penalty box than his skill on the ice.
In the past, they’ve been a team that’s heavy on defense but light on speed and agility.
That all seems to have changed when they drafted Joslyn’s son.
Sebastian’s giving Camps a run for his money, and I thought his speed was incredible.
Nope, Sebastian had him beat on several shifts.
I’m sure the announcers are having a field day with that knowledge.
I’m so proud of Camps though, it looks like he’s taken Sebastian’s speed as a personal challenge.
I’ve never seen a more determined look on that kid’s face, and after everything that’s happened, I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Going into the third period, we’re tied at 1-1.
Reedsy’s been a brick wall in net tonight and, honestly, he’s the reason we’re tied right now.
Sebastian Robertson is everything I was concerned he would be and more.
His last shot on goal was clocked at 95 mph.
I could hear Reedsy’s painful grunt from across the ice.
It would be intimidating if I hadn’t noticed that his teammates seem to dislike him.
Some of them rather intensely. They’ve spent more time chirpping him than us.
Not that I mind, they’re a bunch of assholes anyway and I’m happy not to be the recipient.
It strikes me as weird, or maybe I’m just more aware of malicious behavior among teammates.
My gut is telling me all isn’t well on that team.
Which ends up being the chance we need late in the period.
Philly’s front line is so busy keeping the puck away from Sebastian that they make it easy for Orly to strip it, giving us possession.
Our shift is ending, and I’m close to the blue line, but I don’t head for the bench.
Instead, I double back from their defenseman, giving Orly a chance to pass.
We seem to catch Philly off-guard, and miraculously there’s a lane open.
Muscle memory kicks in, and I’m moving before I even realize it.
I see Burnsy out of the corner of my eye, and he’s keeping pace, which is good because he’s got fresh legs.
I’m only a few feet into their zone when I see an opportunity, and I take the shot.
The goalie deflects, but Burnsy grabs the rebound and shoots again before the goalie can get back in position. The lamp lights, and with only a minute thirty left to play, it’s up to our defense.
It’s a tense 90 seconds, but even though they pull their goalie, we still manage to keep them from scoring, and the game is ours.
The thunderous roar of the crowd is loud as hell, and we fucking love it.
It’s been a while since we’ve had a full arena, much less something to cheer about.
They bring out the stars of the game. Reedsy, of course, is the first. Camps is second and Burnsy is last. The best thing is that most of the crowd stays until the end and Burnsy gets some long-deserved applause of his own.
Coach Quinn is even sporting a smile as we head to the locker room for our post-game routines. I need to hit the bike for a bit before I can shower, so I head off to the training room after I get my gear off. Walker’s apparently got the same idea, so we walk to the training room together.
“Hey, so, I think Maddie’s gonna be at this dinner tonight. She texted me to ask what to wear earlier. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get all stressed right before the game.” He says, wincing at the irritation on my face.
“I would have appreciated knowing that earlier so I didn’t stress through the entire game. Jeez, it’s like you don’t even know me.”
“Yeah, Uh, I also sort of forgot, so... yeah sorry.” He shrugs apologetically before climbing onto the bike next to mine. I sigh. It’s not his fault that she didn’t text me back.
“All good, man.” I wave it off. Maddie should have texted me, not Walker.
Knowing she’ll be there sends my brain into a downward spiral of self-doubt.
Why didn’t she text me? Are we even a thing anymore?
Does she want it to be a thing? What does she want?
Does she want me? My head is spinning with all the unanswered questions.
I’m grateful for my game-day suit when they lead us to a private dining room upon our arrival at the Brown Palace Hotel. The lobby is spectacular. I have to stop myself from staring like a kid in a candy store.
Once we get to the room, all our nerves vanish. It’s loud and full of conversation and laughter. Damon heads over immediately after noticing our entrance to greet us. I can see that I know most of the people here, so it’s less intimidating than I thought.
“That was a fantastic game! I’m just so proud of the team. We’re looking good out there.” It feels so good to get kudos for a game instead of another lecture from Coach. I remind myself not to focus on the shit from last year and just take in the praise, but it’s hard.
Damon walks us over to a tall redhead standing in the corner talking with Lily Robertson. He reminds me of Austin. He’s lean but muscular, with hands like dinner plates, and his smile widens as he sees us with Damon.
“Seb, come meet the boys.” Damon gestures. Tall people can sometimes be gangly or uncoordinated, but not this guy. He’s got the grace of a figure skater and the build of a hockey player. No wonder he’s tearing up the ice.
Walker and I introduce ourselves, and once the pleasantries are over, Damon heads back over to talk to Joslyn.
‘I enjoyed playing against you guys tonight. You’re other winger, Campbell? He’s good. Really had me stepping up my game tonight.“ Sebastian says in a surprisingly deep voice.
I chuckle
“I’ll be sure to tell him that. I think you had the same effect on him. He was giving it his all tonight.” Shaking my head at the thought of Camps’ reaction to his compliment.
“Yeah man. That shot you made at the end of the second period, so sick! Thank God our goalie was on point. I feel like I should say sorry even though I’m not.” Walker says, gripping his neck with his hand. He does that when he’s nervous.
“I’d be shocked if you were.” Sebastian says with a laugh. “How do you like working with Damon? He’s not what I expected.”
After checking out the look on our faces, he adds. “In the best way, of course.”
That makes me smile, particularly because I’m sure that applies to more than his duties as GM.
“He’s a fantastic GM, and I trust him.” I say. Our eyes meet, and I know we’ve just had this conversation on a couple of different levels. He nods, his appreciation clear from the look on his face.
“Good. Good to know. Thanks, man.”
The three of us discuss the game and guys we know all know around the league.
I find myself enjoying his perspective, and I can see that Walker likes talking to him as well.
I want to ask him about his teammates, but now isn’t the time, so I let it go.
I wonder if Damon’s thought about bringing him to the Wolves? I’ll have to ask him.
I turn just in time to catch Madison’s arrival.
My mouth goes dry, and my chest pangs with longing.
Maddie’s wearing a Wolves jersey and she’s never looked hotter.
When I see the 32 on the sleeve, I know she’s not not just wearing a jersey, she’s wearing mine.
Hot, possessive hope spears me and my dick lets me know that he’s loving the sight of Maddie with my name on her back.
I ignore him as my heart speeds up and I have to catch my breath. This has to be a sign, right?