Chapter 16
Liam
Four. Fucking. One.
I played the best game I've had in weeks. Two assists, countless chances, defensive responsibility that would make Coach weep with joy. My ribs are screaming, but I pushed through every shift like my life depended on it.
Because Avery was watching.
And we still lost.
Detroit's play was lethal tonight, and our defense was shit. But all I can think about as the final buzzer sounds is that the first game Avery watches me play, we get our asses handed to us.
The locker room is silent except for the sound of gear being stripped off and skates being unlaced. Coach gives his post-game speech. Something about regrouping, learning from mistakes, coming back stronger, but I barely hear it.
“Media's waiting,” someone says.
“Fuck that.” I yank my jersey over my head, wincing as the movement pulls at my bruised ribs. “I'm not talking to anyone.” I grab my suit from my locker, not bothering to shower. I need to get out of here. I need to see Avery.
The worst part is we had already been talking about going out tonight. Victory drinks at Club Falcon, celebrating the win we were sure we'd get. Guess we jinxed ourselves.
“You still coming out?” Ryan asks as I'm halfway to the door.
“No.”
“Come on, man. We all played like shit. Might as well drown our sorrows together.”
“I'm going home.” I don't wait for a response, just push through the door and ignore the reporters calling my name.
All I can think about is getting to my apartment, calling Avery, having her tell me it's okay, that one loss doesn't define anything.
I need to see her. But the only place we can comfortably meet without being spotted is my apartment. So home it is.
Olivia's car is still in the visitor parking when I pull in. Right. She's watching the puppies. I'd completely forgotten.
I take the elevator up, my mind on Avery. Maybe she can come over. Maybe we can order food, watch a movie, forget about this disaster of a game.
Olivia is on the floor when I walk in, surrounded by puppies. She looks up, smiling. “Hey! How was—oh. Bad game?”
“Don't want to talk about it.”
“Got it.” She stands, brushing puppy hair off her jeans. Bless her, she doesn't follow hockey. “Well, the puppies were angels tonight. Fed, walked, only two accidents on the pads.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Oh, and I've been posting about them on my Instagram.” She pulls out her phone, showing me her profile. “I've already had four people reach out about adopting. Really great families, too. I can vet them if you want, make sure they're legitimate.”
The less I think about losing my puppies the better. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
Olivia's eyebrows raise. “You okay?”
“Fine. I’m just tired. Long day.”
“Okay.” She gathers her things and finally heads for the door. “Text me if you need anything. I can come by tomorrow afternoon?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Olivia.”
The second she's gone, I pull out my phone and call Avery.
It goes straight to voicemail.
I stare at the phone, confused. Avery never turns off her phone. She's always available, always monitoring something, always working.
I try again. Straight to voicemail.
“What the fuck?” I pace my living room. Maybe her battery died. Maybe she's in a meeting.
I try a third time. Fourth. Fifth.
Each time, straight to voicemail.
An hour passes. Then two. I've tried calling at least fifteen times. I've sent texts:
Me: Game's over. Can you come by?
Me: Are you okay?
Me: Avery, I really need to talk to you.
Me: Please just let me know you're alright.
None of them deliver. Her phone is definitely off.
By hour three, I'm losing my mind.
We lost the game. She didn't call to check on me or even text some sort of encouragement. And now her phone is off, and I have no way to reach her. I can’t even go to her place.
I don't know where she lives.
How do I not know where my girlfriend lives? What kind of relationship is this, where I can't even show up at her door?
I consider my options. I could call Jennifer, but that would look suspicious.
Hey, do you have Avery's home address? No reason, just want to stalk my publicist.
Yeah, that'll go over well.
I try calling her again. Straight to voicemail.
“Fuck!” I throw my phone on the couch, running my hands through my hair.
Three hours. Three hours since the game ended, and not a word from her.
Is she avoiding me because she’s regretting last night? This morning? Did she decide this whole thing was a mistake, and now she's ghosting me?
My thoughts spiral, each one worse than the last.
I need to get out of here. Being alone with my thoughts is making everything worse.
I grab my phone and call Jake.
“Nova?” He sounds surprised. “Thought you went home.”
“I did. Where are you?”
“Club Falcon. We're drowning our sorrows in the VIP section. You should come.”
I should stay home. I should be the mature, responsible guy I claimed I wanted to be this morning.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. “I'll be there in twenty.”
I can't just sit here going crazy.
Club Falcon is packed when I arrive. The bouncer waves me through immediately, and I make my way to the VIP section, where I can already hear my teammates.
Jake spots me first. “Nova. What happened? Thought you were staying in tonight.”
“Changed my mind.” I sink into the leather booth, grabbing the beer someone slides toward me. “Can't sit at home thinking about that disaster.”
“Tell me about it,” Ryan groans. “Their goalie was fucking unbeatable.”
“We played like shit,” Ethan adds. “Coach is going to murder us at practice tomorrow.”
I notice Cole isn't here. Of course he's not. He's probably holed up with Harper, being the perfect boyfriend, while I'm sitting here because my girlfriend turned off her phone and disappeared.
The thought makes me take a huge sip of my beer.
I try to focus on the shit talk, on the post-game analysis, on anything other than the fact that Avery is MIA and I have no idea why.
We're about an hour in when there's a commotion near the VIP rope. A guy in a Detroit jersey is leaning over, drunk and confrontational.
“Hey, Renegades!” he shouts. “Thanks for the easy win! Y'all looked like peewee players out there!”
His friends laugh, equally drunk and obnoxious.
“Ignore them,” Jake says.
But they don't stop. They keep talking shit, getting louder, more aggressive. Something about how we're overpaid, overrated, how Detroit owned us.
“Hey, Nova,” the main guy yells, pointing at me. “What happened out there? Your little party boy lifestyle catching up to you? Too tired from fucking Instagram models to play hockey?”
Something in me snaps.
I'm up and over the VIP rope before anyone can stop me. The guy barely has time to look surprised before my fist connects with his jaw.
Then all hell breaks loose.
His friends jump in. My teammates jump in. The club security is there within seconds, but not before I land two more punches and take one to my already bruised ribs that makes me wince.
Security pulls us apart, physically dragging me back to the VIP section while the Detroit fans are escorted out.
“What the fuck, Nova?” Jake is in my face immediately. “You want to get suspended? We just lost a game, and now you're starting fights?”
“He was asking for it,” I say through gritted teeth.
“He was drunk and talking shit. You're supposed to be better than that.” Jake grabs my arm. “What is going on with you tonight?”
I shake him off. “Nothing. I'm going home.” I text Hudson, and within minutes, he texts me to let me know he’s outside.
In the car, my ribs feel like they're on fire. I pull out my phone. Avery still hasn’t called. I call her again. It goes straight to voicemail.
This morning, everything felt possible.
Now, twelve hours later, I've lost a game, gotten in a bar fight, and I can't even reach the woman I'm falling for.
Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I'm just the same fuck-up I've always been, pretending to be someone better.
My phone buzzes. Hope surges in my chest. Except it’s Jake.
Get home safe. We'll talk tomorrow.
The puppies swarm me when I walk in. Princess immediately senses something's wrong, whimpering and pressing against my legs. I sink onto the floor, letting them climb all over me.
“At least you guys still want me around,” I say, scratching behind Trouble's ears.
Minutes later, I haul myself off the floor with every muscle protesting. My ribs are screaming, and my knuckles are swollen from the fight. I’m fucking exhausted.
I check Avery's phone one more time before heading to bed.
Nothing.
I fall into bed fully clothed, too tired and too frustrated to care. Sleep comes eventually, restless and filled with dreams where I'm searching for Avery but can’t find her.
Hours later, my phone buzzes, dragging me from sleep. Early morning light filters through the curtains. I grab my phone, squinting at the screen. Avery has texted. Relief surges through me as I jab at the screen.
Good morning. Sorry about yesterday. My phone died, and I didn't realize until late. Are you okay?
The relief is followed by irritation. What kind of an excuse is that? Her phone died? For twelve hours?
The conversation we need to have cannot be done over text. I need to see her.
I type back quickly: What's your address?
There's a pause. Then: Why?
Me: Because I need to see you. Address. Now.
Another pause, longer this time. Then she sends it.
I'm up immediately, ignoring the protests from my battered body. I need to see her. She better have a better excuse as to what happened yesterday.
I crank the heat until the water is nearly unbearable, helping to ease some of the soreness in my muscles. My knuckles are bruised and swollen, and my ribs are a spectacular array of purple and yellow.
I look like I've been through a war.
I dress quickly and text Hudson that I need a ride. By the time I'm downstairs, he's already waiting.
“Morning, Mr. Novak,” he says as I slide into the back seat. “Where to?”
The drive takes twenty minutes. Avery's building is in a decent neighborhood, but when we pull up, I immediately notice how inadequate the security is.
There's no doorman, and the front door looks like it could be opened with a credit card.
“Want me to wait?” Hudson asks.
“Yeah.”
I'm about to press the buzzer for Avery's apartment when the door swings open. A guy in running gear exits, earbuds in, not even glancing my way. I catch the door before it closes and slip inside.
Anyone could just walk in here. The thought makes me irrationally angry. Avery lives here alone, and any creep could just stroll right in.
I take the elevator to the fourth floor, my heart pounding. I'm angry that she disappeared, but also relieved that she's okay. I’m just desperate to see her.
I find her apartment and knock. Seconds later, the door swings open.
Avery stands there in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her long blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. Except there are bright blue highlights running through it now. When did she do that?
“What's with the blue in your hair? I don't like it. It's not you.” I pull her into a hug. “You better have a good explanation for why you disappeared yesterday. Do you have any idea what I went through? I called you approximately seven thousand times. I almost filed a missing person’s report.”
“Wait.” The word comes out muffled against my chest.
The words won't stop. I'm venting now, everything I've been feeling since her phone went dark, just spilling out in a messy rush.
“And then I got in a bar fight because some Detroit asshole was talking shit, and I was already spiraling because my girlfriend ghosted me after the worst loss of the season.”
She tries to push me back, but no way am I letting go.
“We also need to talk about your building security. Anyone could just walk in here.”
“Hey.” She's laughing now, pushing me back hard.
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, feeling the tension of the last twelve hours finally start to unravel. “I was so worried,” I whisper against her skin. “Your phone was off and I couldn't reach you and I thought maybe you'd decided this was a mistake, that you were done with me.”
“I can't breathe.”
I loosen my grip slightly but don't let go, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere I can reach. “Don't ever do that again. I was losing my mind.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know, I know, I'm being dramatic. But you scared me, and I needed to see you.”
Then I hear Avery’s laughter, but she’s behind Avery. How?
I pull back, confused, and that's when I see her.
She’s standing behind Avery. With the same face. The exact same face.
I look at Avery. Then at the other woman. Then back at Avery. “What the hell! There are two of you?”