4. Liam
FOUR
LIAM
Puck Kings
Maverick
The league really fucked us by making the majority of our games on Tuesday nights. Don’t they know we have traditions?
Hudson
It’s almost like they don’t care about your personal life.
Maverick
Last I checked, it wasn’t just my personal life. Team dinner concerns all of you, and we’re not stopping them this season. Not when our record has only improved since getting together once a week off the ice. Mondays will have to work.
Riley
I hate Mondays.
Maverick
You won’t hate them anymore because you get to spend them with me.
Aren’t you lucky?
Me
Is there a way to permanently remove myself from a group chat?
Emmy
When you figure it out, let me know.
G-Money
Emmy is in here again? No shit!
Guess we need to change our name back to Professional Stick Handlers. That’s inclusive, right?
Emmy
Don’t change it because of me, Grant. I don’t know why I keep getting added to these messages, and I’m going to leave. I hate it. I don’t play with you all anymore. In fact, I’m the enemy now.
Maverick
Calm down there, Red. Your team has to win games before you can call yourself the enemy. How does your 1-6 start to the season feel?
Emmy
You’re on the couch tonight.
G-Money
Oooh, Miller is in trouble.
Riley
Get a room you two.
Me
For the love of god. Someone block me. Please.
Easy E
Wouldn’t help, Goalie Daddy. We’re always going to find you.
Hudson
Do you talk to women that way, Ethan?
Me
No. He drools all over himself and uses his right hand.
G-Money
God damn. That’s why you’re never leaving the chat. Your one-liners are witty as shit.
Maverick
Don’t be late tomorrow.
Easy E
I’m bringing hot dogs in memory of Dave’s Dogs. RIP to a real one.
Hudson
He didn’t die.
Easy E
Might as well have. The hot dogs at the other places in the arena suck. Frank’s Franks are fucking trash.
*G-Money has changed the name of the chat to Professional Stick Handlers Because Puck Kings Isn’t Inclusive RIP Dave’s Dogs*
G-Money
That’s a mouthful, but we can make it work.
Me
I hate it here.
Emmy
Want to run away together, Liam?
Me
Yes
Maverick
You know what? I’m not even offended. I hope the two of you are very happy together. You have my blessing.
*Emmy Hartwell has left the chat*
*You have left the chat*
“I brought salad.” I set the bowl on the island in Maverick and Emmy’s penthouse apartment and lean against the counter. “And dressing.”
Maverick beams and adjusts the buffet line to make space for the Caesar salad I picked up at the deli around the corner from my place. “I’m glad you’re here. What changed your mind?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Didn’t feel like sitting at home, I guess.”
“I knew you missed us when we weren’t together.” He pinches my cheek and I knock his hand away. “You doing okay? You looked stiff during morning skate.”
“Hamstring. A lot on my mind. It’s no big deal,” I grumble, thinking about the call from my mom earlier this afternoon.
She chewed me out for not telling them about the date I’m bringing to Alana’s wedding then grilled me for half an hour about a woman who doesn’t exist. I’ve already started planning excuses for why I’m showing up alone. An expired passport seems like the most logical explanation, and I’m willing to pay someone to make me a fake document so I can cover my tracks.
“Shit. Your hamstring is still bothering you? I thought you were feeling better.”
“I’m fine.”
“Say it without grimacing.”
“Fuck you.”
“There he is.” Maverick’s grin is back as he opens the oven and pulls out a glass dish, setting it on the stove. “Glad you’re not falling apart on me, Sullivan.”
“Told you I’m fine.” I grab a paper plate off the top of the stack and head for the lasagna Hudson’s personal chef cooked. “Thanks for making me come tonight, by the way. I know I give you all shit, but if I’m forced to spend time with people, I’m glad it’s you all.”
“Wow.” He wraps his arms around my waist and I roll my eyes. “ That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re on a roll lately, Goalie Daddy.”
“Don’t let it go to your inflated head.” I pull out of his hold and move to the mashed potatoes Grant whipped up with his new mixer. He won’t stop sending us photos of himself in an apron and chef’s hat, and I’m going to be pissed if they taste like shit. “It’s a one-time thing.”
“A one-time thing I’m going to cherish forever. Dinner’s ready,” he yells, and there’s a stampede of feet. “They aren’t quiet, are they?”
“Nope.” I add two pieces of grilled chicken and garlic bread to my plate then move it all to the side to make room for a slice of pizza. “Bunch of hooligans.”
The noise in the kitchen amps up ten decibels as my teammates file in. Some of them brought their significant others. Some came solo. They’re all here though, and it’s pure fucking chaos.
There’s pushing and shoving. A fork gets thrown and lands in the wall. Half a stack of napkins goes flying in the air. We got rid of real plates three years ago, shifting to paper products because shit always ends up broken when the Stars boys are around.
Especially when food is involved.
“Hi, Liam.” I glance over my shoulder and find Piper smiling at me. Her grin is big and wide, and the blue sweater she’s wearing brings out her eyes. “Glad to see you clothed and on two feet.”
“Piper. Glad to see you not freaking out over my bare chest.”
“You look better with clothes on.”
“Figured as much. How did the castration go?”
“Whoa.” Ethan looks between us. “Are you into castration, Little P?”
“No.” She blushes and tucks a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. I feel like a jackass for making her uncomfortable. “It’s a joke.”
“Didn’t know Goalie Daddy was capable of jokes, but I’m here for it.” Ethan elbows my ribs. “Move over, you big lug. I want some marinara sauce and you’re taking up too much space.”
“Sorry,” I grumble. “I’m out of here.”
“Let me know how the chicken is,” Piper says before I can make my way to the living room. She lifts her chin and offers me a shy smile. “It’s my first time using the grill I’ve had for years, so it might not be edible.”
I maneuver around the island and past my teammates. “If I get salmonella, I’ll send you my hospital bill.”
“I’m not sure I can afford it, to be honest. The best I can do is get you some water and saltines.”
I rip off a piece of garlic bread with my teeth. “Fair trade.”
“I’m sorry again for interrupting you and Lexi the other day. I hope you don’t think I’m unprofessional.”
“Pretty sure you’re the most professional person in this room, Pipsqueak,” I say at the same time Lexi drapes an arm over Piper’s shoulder.
“So true,” Lexi agrees, then glances at her friend. “Is that what you’re wearing on your date later?”
“Yeah.” Piper runs her hands over her jeans. A hint of cleavage appears when she moves up and fixes her necklace. It feels wrong to stare at her, so I glance away. “Do you think it’s okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Lexi says, snapping her fingers. “Sullivan. You’re a man.”
“What gave it away?”
“First impressions of Piper’s outfit?”
My fingers curl around the edge of my plate as I look her up and down.
Her blonde hair is long, slightly messy, and I wonder if she ran her fingers through it before she walked into the kitchen. There’s a small smile on her mouth, like she has a secret she’s keeping to herself. I move to the sweater that shows off the curve of her tits. Her jeans make her legs look long, and I find myself staring at the sliver of skin between her top and the denim for longer than I should.
Piper Mitchell is sunshine incarnate, and it must be fucking exhausting to always be so happy.
There’s this presence about her that makes me think she’s going to save the world or die trying. I’ve had a small, stupid crush on her since she introduced herself to me with that peppy attitude of hers, but I’ve always kept my distance.
She had a shiny ring on her finger.
I wasn’t looking for a distraction.
There might not be a diamond on her hand anymore, but I’m still not looking for someone to take up my time.
I can’t deny she’s fucking gorgeous, though.
And I know I’m not the only one who thinks that way.
I’ve seen how my teammates stare at her when she’s at practice or behind the glass at games. I know how they flirt with her and try to get her attention.
They’d never do anything to cross the line, but that doesn’t mean they don’t look.
“It’s nice,” I grit out. “Fine.”
Lexi frowns. “ Fine ? We don’t want her to look nice . We want her to look like a knockout.”
“Don’t listen to grumpy gills here,” Ethan says. “You look hot as hell, Lil P. If you feel like ditching whoever you’re meeting later for some real fun, you have my number.”
“Thanks, Ethan. Hockey guys aren’t really my type, but I appreciate the offer,” Piper laughs. “And thank you, Liam. Nice is still a compliment, and I love compliments.”
“No problem,” I say, turning a corner out of the kitchen and nearly running into Emmy.
“Whoa.” She puts a hand on the center of my chest. “Easy there, Sullivan.”
“Sorry. Distracted.”
“By?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
She peeks around the corner to the conversation I left and hums. “Don’t drop your food on my new rug.”
“Wouldn’t dare.”
“But you can drop it on Maverick’s new suit if you’re feeling wild. It’s hanging in the bedroom. He won’t shut up about it, and if I have to hear another word about its velvet interior , I’m going to scream.”
A laugh falls out of me. “It sucks not having you around anymore, Hartwell. I’d take you over your other half any day.”
Emmy’s laugh matches mine. She squeezes my arm, and I can’t help but smile.
We got close when she was on the team a few years ago, spending almost an entire season together before an end-of-the-year trade sent her to Toronto. Not long after, the Baltimore Sea Crabs, our division rival, snatched her up with a lucrative contract.
I still see her plenty, but it’s special when you get to play with someone you like. Someone who is like a part of your family. I’d run into a fire for Emerson Hartwell—all of the boys would—and I know she’d do the same for us.
“Insufferable, isn’t he? But you can’t help but love him.”
“It’s unfortunate for all of us.” I ruffle her hair, and she gives my stomach a light punch. “Go get food.”
She brushes past me. “I’m glad you’re here, Liam.”
I huff out a breath. “Me too, Red.”
It’s less chaotic out on the balcony than it is inside.
Thank fuck.
I need a break. A second to relax. A minute without the video games and yelling and my teammates annoying the shit out of one another.
I take a deep breath and savor the silence, the quiet lasting only a handful of seconds before the balcony door slides open behind me. I turn and see Piper standing in front of the large glass windows, her arms wrapped around herself. I frown at the sight of her.
“Oh.” Her eyes meet mine and she blinks. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was out here.”
“You okay?”
“I didn’t eat or drink enough today, and that usually triggers a migraine. I feel the makings of one starting, and I thought some fresh air might help. Gosh, it feels nice. It’s too warm inside, and I love fall in the city.”
I point at the lounge chair by the wall. “Sit.”
Piper shuffles over to the chair and plops down. There’s a long stretch of silence then she huffs out a soft laugh, the first to make conversation.
“The chicken was shit, wasn’t it?” she asks.
I don’t have the heart to tell her it was terrible. Undercooked and not edible. It’s obvious she’s never operated a grill, but I shrug instead and say, “I’ve had worse.”
“You’re being nice.”
“Fine. It was shit, but I have also had worse.”
“That helps.” She closes her eyes, and a sigh escapes her. “What are you doing out here?”
“I got a phone call I’ve been dreading this afternoon, and I need to figure some things out,” I say, and I have no idea why I’m telling her all of this. There’s no way she cares, and it’s not like she’ll have a solution. “Can’t think in there.”
Piper’s eyes fly open, and she stares at me. “Are you dying? Is your hamstring worse than you’ve been letting on? Is there such a thing as hamstring cancer?”
“Why the hell would you ask if I’m dying?”
“I don’t know.” She gestures up and down in my direction. “You’re acting broodier than you normally do.”
“I’m broody?”
“Figured it was a life-or-death situation on our hands. Why else would you be stomping around and sulking by yourself?”
“I’m not—I don’t stomp .”
“You don’t move quietly.”
“Is stomp the antonym for quietly?”
“I don’t know. Should I get a thesaurus?”
My lips twitch up in a small smile. “It was my mom who called.”
“Is she dying?”
“No.”
“Is anyone dying?”
“Aren’t we all dying?”
“Very existential of you, and a little deep for a conversation on a balcony, if you ask me. If no one is dying, why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios?”
“I thought I was broody. Isn’t that reason enough?”
Piper laughs, and it’s a light little sound. Something that sounds like the last days of summer and staying in bed. It’s nice. Soothing. A noise I’d like to hear again.
“You look even broodier than normal,” she adds.
“I told my mom I was bringing a date to my sister’s wedding in February.”
“That’s not that terrible. Far easier to work with than dying. Why did you tell her you have a date?”
“Because I didn’t feel like explaining why I’m traveling to Spain all by myself. I like to be alone. I prefer it, actually. But if one more person asks me when I’m going to get married, I might scream.”
“Why don’t you find someone to take with you?” Piper suggests.
“Everyone annoys me.”
“Of course they do. Do you have any female friends? Someone who wouldn’t mind playing the part for a few days?”
“Playing the part?” I frown again, not understanding. “Like an actor?”
“You should really join the romance book club with the other guys. It’s called fake dating. You have someone pose as your girlfriend for the wedding, and when you get home, you stop pretending.”
“You’re telling me people go around asking other people to be their girlfriend to events? There’s no way that happens in real life.”
“ Fake girlfriend. I’ve never done it, but I hear it happens.”
“I’m not going to pretend to date someone. I’m going to be a shitty person and lie instead,” I say.
“What lie are you going to use? It better be a good one.”
“An expired passport. You can’t argue with Border Patrol.”
“Not bad, Sullivan. Probably better than the Weekend at Bernie’s stint some of your teammates would try.”
“That seems like too much work.”
“So your sister’s wedding, huh? I didn’t know you had any siblings, and it’s my job to know everything about you all. Is she older or younger?”
“Younger by four years. She was an absolute pain in my ass when we were growing up, but I love her. She met her fiancé when she moved to California to start a dating app, fell in love, proposed to him , then planned a wedding.”
“You sound like total opposites.”
“Completely different people. I’m sure this wedding is going to be over the top extravagant. She’s always been outgoing and loves being the center of attention. Me? Not so much.”
“Your job as one of the best goalies in the NHL makes perfect sense. You never have any attention on you.”
“Shut up, Pipsqueak,” I say without any bite behind it, and she laughs again. “When’s your date?”
“Soon. I should probably get going.” She swings her legs to the edge of the chair. Her thigh presses against mine as she stands. “Are you going to stay out here much longer with your broody thoughts?”
“Nah. I’m going to head home. I’ve seen the guys play enough Grand Theft Auto to last a lifetime, and I’m tired. How’s your head?”
“Better. Amazing what some fresh air can do.”
My gaze drags down to her jeans when she turns for the door. “Your outfit isn’t fine, by the way. It’s…” I trail off, hesitating. I try to find the word that would fit without sounding like a fucking creep. “Pretty. Really pretty.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.” Piper smiles at me, and it’s the kind of grin that reaches every corner of her face. Her nose wrinkles. There are crinkles around her eyes and a half dimple on her cheek. I had no clue a compliment could make someone so happy, and I have a feeling she doesn’t hear enough of them in her life. “Have a good night, Liam. I’ll see you on the plane to Texas in a few days.”
The balcony door clicks shut. I focus on the White House and Capitol Building in the distance instead of focusing on how for once, I really fucking hate being alone.