Chapter 21
Liam
The team's new jet is nice with upgraded leather seats and more legroom than the old one, but right now it feels like torture.
Avery is sitting three rows ahead on the opposite side of the aisle, talking to Jennifer. So close yet so fucking far.
I'm stuck next to Jake, who keeps giving me shit-eating grins every time he catches me staring at the back of her head.
“You're not subtle,” he says, flipping through his phone.
“Fuck off, Jake.”
“Never seen you like this, man.” He's grinning wider now. “Completely pussy-whipped and she won't even look at you. It's beautiful, really.”
“I said fuck off,” I warn under my breath.
“Just saying. The great Nova, brought to his knees by his PR specialist. Who would've thought?”
I shoot him a glare. “You done?”
“Not even close. This is the most entertainment I've had all season.”
He laughs but drops it, turning his attention to whatever video he's watching. Around us, the plane is filled with the usual pre-game energy. Guys talking shit and the occasional burst of laughter.
Up front, Coach and the assistants are huddled together, probably reviewing Toronto's recent games. Behind us, the rookies are being loud and obnoxious like always. And scattered throughout are trainers, equipment managers, and PR staff.
All perfectly normal. Except for the fact that I'm hyper-aware of every move Avery makes.
She shifts in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. God, I wish I were the one doing that. My fingers are practically itching to touch her.
“Remember last time in Toronto when Ethan got catfished on that dating app?” Ryan's voice carries from a few rows back.
“That was one time,” Ethan says with a laugh. “She looked nothing like her photos.”
“She was like sixty years old, dude,” Jake shouts back.
“She said she was young at heart,” Ethan adds.
The whole section erupts in laughter. Even Cole, sitting across the aisle from Ryan, is grinning.
“Listen up, boys,” Cole says once the laughter dies down. “Toronto has been on a five-game winning streak, and we’ve been in a nosedive. They're going to come at us hard tonight.”
“So has Nova,” Ryan quips. “No more club appearances?”
Everyone within earshot turns to look at me, and I shrug. “Just staying focused on hockey,” I say, keeping my voice casual.
“Since when?” someone behind me asks.
“Since I decided I wanted to actually win some games.” I lean back in my seat, projecting confidence I don't feel. “Problem with that?”
“No problem,” Ryan says, but he's grinning. “Just surprising, that's all. Nova turning down parties? That's like Cole turning down a leadership opportunity. Unnatural.”
“People change,” I mutter.
Cole catches my eye and nods. For once, the robot and I are on the same wavelength, except hockey is not the reason I’m behaving myself. Heck, I’m starting to love this grown-up version of me.
The conversation shifts to Toronto's defense. I half-listen, contributing when asked, but my attention keeps drifting forward.
Avery is taking notes on her tablet, nodding at something Jennifer is saying. Then the plane hits a patch of turbulence, but it’s nothing major, just a little bump. Avery’s hands grip the armrests.
Fuck, she’s scared of flying.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to go to her. To slide into the seat next to her, take her hand, distract her with some stupid story until the shaking stops.
Except I can’t, so instead, I pull out my phone.
Me: Statistically, you're more likely to be killed by a vending machine than in a plane crash. So unless there's a rogue vending machine on this jet, you're fine.
Avery pulls her phone from her pocket, the screen lighting up her face. Her eyes scan the message, and then her shoulders start to shake. Her laughter rings out through the cabin.
I did that. Even from three rows back, even when we can’t be together, I can still make her feel better.
And shit, that feels good.
The turbulence smooths out, and I shove my phone back in my pocket, relieved that my woman is good.
We land in Toronto just after noon. The buses are waiting on the tarmac, ready to take us to the hotel. We’re booked at the Delta downtown, since it’s close to the arena.
The ride to the hotel is short. The guys are getting louder now, the pre-game energy building. Someone starts a betting pool on who'll score first tonight. Someone else is already planning where we'll go after the game to celebrate.
I text Avery. I need to see her. Pronto.
Me: Hotel bar at 10?
Avery: After the game. Be patient.
I bite back a smile. Patience. Right. That's definitely my strong suit.
Me: Too long.
Avery: It'll be worth it. I promise.
I know. Still, it doesn’t make the waiting any easier.
The hotel is chaos. Check-in, room assignments, everyone scattering to their rooms to drop bags before the team meeting at two. I end up rooming with Jake, like always on road trips.
As we’re unpacking, Jake turns to me. “I kind of like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Less of an asshole. She’s good for you.”
I don’t know why that makes me feel so fucking good. “Yeah.”
Morning skate is at the arena at three. It’s a standard routine before a game. Loosen up, go through systems, and get a feel for the ice. The Toronto arena is loud even during practice, with dedicated fans showing up hours early to watch.
I spot Avery in the tunnel, talking to someone from the Toronto media team. She's wearing dark jeans and a Renegades polo with her hair pulled back. And I can't stop staring.
“Novak,” Coach yells. “You planning to join us or just stand there?”
“Sorry, Coach.” I skate over, forcing myself to focus.
The game doesn't start until seven. That gives us hours to kill. Team meal, more meetings, the usual pre-game routine. I try to get my head in the game, but all I can think about is Avery watching the game. Hopefully, this time goes better than the last.
At six-thirty, I'm in the hallway outside the locker room, doing some last-minute stretches, when she appears.
“Hey,” she says quietly, glancing around to make sure we're alone.
“Hey, yourself.”
“You ready?”
The corner of my mouth curves with a smirk. “Always.” I step closer, keeping my voice low. “Where will you sit?”
“The press box. I have to monitor social media and manage coverage.”
“Good.” I reach out and brush my fingers against hers, quick enough that anyone passing wouldn't notice. “You're my good luck charm.”
Her smile is small, but there. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You can handle it.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but footsteps echo down the hallway. She steps back immediately, the professional mask sliding into place.
“Good luck tonight, Mr. Novak,” she says formally.
“Thank you, Ms. Carter.”
She walks away, and I watch her go, already counting down the hours until we're alone.
The game is brutal.
Toronto comes out hitting, physical and aggressive, trying to throw us off our game. But I'm locked in and more focused than I've been in weeks.
Every time I'm on the ice, I'm aware of Avery somewhere above, watching. Every shift, every play, I'm skating harder, thinking faster, playing like my life depends on it.
Midway through the second period, I set up Jake for a goal with a perfect cross-ice pass. The arena erupts, though it’s mostly boos from Toronto fans, but I'll take it.
Third period, I score on a one-timer that beats their goalie clean. The red light goes off, and I'm swarmed by my teammates. But instead of celebrating with them, all I can think is, did Avery see that? Was she watching?
We win 4-2. It’s a solid performance with everyone contributing. It’s the kind of road win that Coach loves. Especially after such a brutal loss last game.
The locker room after is loud with everyone riding the high of victory. Someone is already pulling up club recommendations on their phone, though the team only has a couple of hours before we have to leave.
“Celebration at The Rake Hotel,” Ryan announces. “They've got a club upstairs, VIP section waiting for us.”
“I'm in,” Jake says immediately.
“Me too,” Ethan adds. “After that win? We deserve it.”
Road wins mean going out and celebrating together. Except, I’m locked on Avery, and this time we have together.
“I'm out,” I hear myself say.
The locker room goes quiet. Everyone turns to stare at me.
“What?” Ryan looks confused. “You’re passing on a celebration? Since when?”
“I'm exhausted,” I say, which isn't entirely a lie. “That game took everything I had. I just want to sleep.”
“Sleep?” Jake is grinning now, the asshole. “You?”
“Yeah, me. I'm getting old, I guess.”
“You're twenty-seven,” Ethan points out.
“And I feel forty after that game.” I strip off my gear, trying to act casual. “You guys have fun. I'll catch the next one.”
Cole, who's been quiet through all this, catches my eye. Instead, he just says, “Good game tonight, Nova. Best I've seen you play in a while.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
“Whatever you're doing, keep doing it.” He claps me on the shoulder. “This is the player we need you to be.”
Sudden emotion comes over me. Cole doesn't give compliments lightly. And he's right. I did play well tonight. Better than usual. Because I had something to play for beyond just winning.
“I'm trying,” I say honestly.
“I can see that.” He studies my face for a moment. “Enjoy your night off. You earned it.”