24. Liam
TWENTY-FOUR
LIAM
I wake up to an empty bed.
Judging by the moon shining through my window, it’s still nighttime. I reach over to the side where Piper fell asleep a few hours ago. She was curled around me, her hand on my chest and a leg thrown over mine, snoring softly.
And I… just kind of stared at her.
Like a certified creep.
Which, in hindsight, is super fucking weird, and I’d rather die than tell her I know how many freckles she has across her nose.
There are twenty-fucking-three.
Her hair was wet and her face was makeup-free from our shower. She was warm. Soft. Really fucking nice to have in my arms, and… I don’t know.
I haven’t had a woman in my bed in years. I haven’t held anyone in years, and it was nice not to be alone for once. To not fall asleep thinking about my job or the games we have this week or if I hit my protein goal for the day.
I wanted to enjoy the simplicity of it all for a minute because I never get to enjoy stuff like this.
The sheets are still warm, and I wonder if she snuck out because she was afraid of things being awkward.
I don’t blame her.
Going from no interaction with men to giving him a blow job and sleeping over is a big jump.
I sit up, glancing around the room and searching for a trace of her. My eyes snag on her dress in a ball on the floor, and it gives me hope she’s still here. Kicking the sheets off, I stand and fumble with a pair of boxers from my dresser before I start down the hall, looking for her.
“Piper?” I call out.
The kitchen is empty, and so is the guest room. The living room is also deserted, but a flash of color outside the windows catches my attention. I look at the balcony door and it’s half open.
I walk over, and that’s when I see her. She’s leaning over the railing, a blanket draped around her as she looks up at the night sky. Her hair is a wild, tangled mess and the socks on her feet are three sizes too big.
I push the door open and step outside. The December air bites at my skin, making me wish I threw on a sweatshirt before I left my room.
“Hey,” I say.
“Did I wake you?” She turns to look at me, her chin resting on her shoulder and a smile tugging on her mouth. “I thought I was quiet.”
“No. I woke up and saw you were gone. Figured you might’ve run.”
“From all the kicking you do in your sleep?”
“I don’t kick.”
“The bruise on my shin would say otherwise.” I roll my eyes, and her grin stretches wider. “Want to join me?”
I move across the deck and lean my arms on the railing. “Are you wearing any clothes under that big blanket of yours?”
“One of your shirts. Felt like it was more appropriate than my formal dress or going naked.”
“My building manager might’ve complained about the nudity.” I lift my chin in her direction. “Which shirt?”
“I don’t know. One from a stack that smelled fairly clean and not like the sweaty jersey I normally see you in.” She opens the blanket, showing off what she picked. It’s an old shirt from college that hangs down to her knees. It has my last name on the back, and I bet I’d really like seeing Sullivan stretched across her shoulders. “It’s comfy.”
“That’s one of the lucky ones.”
“Well. Hopefully it helps you win tomorrow. Or, today, I guess. God, I’m messing up your sleep schedule, aren’t I?”
“Game isn’t until eight. Don’t need to be at the arena until four. I can take a nap in the morning.” I yawn and tap on her wrist. “Move over, Sunshine. I’m fucking freezing.”
“Sunshine?” She holds open the blanket and I slide in beside her. Our sides press together, and it’s like an inferno in here. “I get another nickname?”
“Figured it fit. You’re bright. Warm. You make people happy.”
“When skies are gray? Do I make you happy, Liam?”
“Yeah, you do. And not many people make me happy.”
“Feels like I should make that a plaque or something. I make Liam Sullivan happy . And under it, I’ll add I also swallowed his cum . Maybe that’s the key to happiness .”
A laugh rushes out of me. I can’t help it. Not when she grins up at me with mischievous eyes. Not when I can literally see her gaining confidence every time we’re together.
I have the time of my life when I’m on the ice. Being in the middle of an intense hockey game is thrilling with adrenaline and high-stakes and nonstop action.
This is a different kind of thrill.
The kind I could get addicted to if I’m not careful.
And for once in my life, careful is the last thing I want to be.
“Someone’s got jokes. Two orgasms—sorry, three, forgot about the one in the shower—later and you’re a stand-up comedian, Mitchell?”
“Made you laugh, didn’t I?”
“I swallowed a bug. That was me choking. Kind of like you did on my cock earlier.”
Her laugh echoes mine, and she nudges my ribs with her elbow. “Tit for tat, huh?”
“Tit for something. And you have nice ones.”
“That was so cheesy. Want to sit? I was really enjoying looking at the stars before someone came out here and interrupted me. That lounger you have in the corner is calling my name.”
“I come out here sometimes. Not when it’s thirty-eight degrees and I’m freezing my balls off.” I lead her to the cushioned chair and sit down first. I spread my legs so she can fit between them and she leans back, resting against me. Taking the blanket from her, I drape it around us haphazardly, creating a cocoon. “I like to look at the night sky. Helps quiet my mind.”
“How do you think the season is going so far?”
“Is this on the record or off?”
Piper pinches my knee. “The only time I’m in interview mode is at the arena. This is me being curious.”
“I think there’s a real chance we go far in the playoffs. We’re good enough to win the whole damn thing. Just need to stay focused the next few months.”
“I think so too. Boston is going to be tough to get through, but I think you all can do it. Do you have any pregame rituals? I only see you in the tunnel. What happens behind closed locker room doors?”
“I eat a candy bar and listen to classical music before every game.”
“A candy bar? What kind?”
“Something with chocolate, but I’m not picky.”
“Wow. I’m not going to lie, I’m surprised by that. I thought you’d eat oranges or something.”
“I’ll eat those too. They aren’t part of tradition, though.”
She pauses for a beat. “Thanks for the cuddling lesson, by the way. Now I know where I’m supposed to put my hands when a man has his arms around me.”
“You didn’t have to ask for this one.”
“No, I didn’t. Should we do some more get-to-know-yous? How else do you kill time in the middle of the night?”
“Give me your questions. I know there’s something churning in that head of yours.”
“Why do you rarely post on social media?”
“Ah. You’ve been stalking me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t care about social media, and I don’t think fans should have access to my life outside of the arena. They get me for eighty-two games a season, and that’s plenty. If a fan wants to take a photo with me when I’m out in public, I will. But to think I owe you constant updates about my day-to-day activities because you cheer for my team is fucking bizarre.”
“You’re so right. I stopped posting as frequently on social media after my divorce because I didn’t want people to know what I was up to and judge me for it. I know Steven keeps tabs on me, and it’s like he’s waiting for me to do something wrong so he can latch onto it and make it a big deal.”
“Why the hell did you ever marry that guy?”
“He wasn’t always like that. He used to be much kinder, but money changed him. When he was at work, he had to act like an asshole to get ahead, and that persona bled into his personal life. As time went on, I realized we weren’t compatible anymore. I would’ve ended it if he hadn’t cheated on me, and some days I’m mad I didn’t attack first.”
“Prick,” I mumble under my breath, and she hums in agreement.
“What do you want to do after you retire?”
“Coach, maybe. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it. My teaching style is probably yelling at people when they’re doing something wrong, but I’d like to have a hand in the next generation of players.”
“I could see that. You probably blow a whistle very aggressively.”
“Is there another way to blow it?” I pause and wonder what I should ask her. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“Wow.” Her laughter dies in her throat and she tips her head back until our eyes meet. “Heavy hitting stuff there, Sullivan.”
I shrug. “Way more interesting than what kind of potato you like best.”
“I’ve never thought about it. Huh. I guess I’d say tater tots, with curly fries as a very close second. As for my biggest fear…” She trails off and blows out an exhale. I see her breath in the cold air, and I hug her closer to me. “Being alone. All I want is to be loved. Romantically, I mean. I have friends who love me. Parents who love me. Colleagues who love me. But I want that… that consuming obsession that comes with someone else being your lifeline. The kind of love where, if they died, you’d be heartbroken. Bedridden for weeks because you’re not sure how you’d go on. It’s funny that I thought I had it before. I wasn’t anywhere close.”
“Would you get married again?” I ask, and she nods.
“I don’t want the whole production like I had last time— god , it was atrocious. The ceremony was in a church in the middle of summer when it was ninety-six degrees outside without any air conditioning. There were three hundred guests, and I knew about thirty of them. I hated it. But, yeah, I’d get married again. If I met the right guy.”
“I don’t think you’re going to end up alone.”
“It could happen. I’ve never been someone’s favorite person. I’ve never been someone’s top priority. I was married to a man for years and always came in second place. Maybe that’s what I’m destined for: being almost perfect, but never quite good enough,” she says softly.
“You’re my favorite person.”
“You don’t have favorites. In fact, you dislike almost everyone.”
“I tolerate some, remember? I have a favorite now, and no one else comes fucking close.”
“Really?”
“You win by a mile.”
“Well.” She dips her chin and shivers under the blanket. “You’re one of my favorites too.”
“One of? Guess I need to step my game up.”
“You’re doing just—” She screams, cutting herself off. “What the hell is that?!”
I look to where she’s pointing and snort when I see Pico stalking our way. “That’s Pico.”
“He looks like a goddamn lion in the dark!”
“He’ll be very glad to know you think so highly of him.” Pico jumps onto the chair and stares at us. “ Te di de comer. No puedes seguir teniendo hambre .” He flicks his tail, and I roll my eyes. “ Está bien. Una porción más y ya! Tus ojos suplicantes no siempre van funcionar .”
“Whoa,” Piper whispers. “That was really hot.”
“What? The Spanish?”
“Yeah. What did you say to him?”
“I told him he’s already eaten today, but I’m going to give him a little more food. Then I said his begging eyes are getting old. Look at him. He acts like he’s being starved. Asshole.”
Pico turns his nose up at us and slinks back to the balcony door and the warm apartment.
“What a cute guy.”
“Great. I don’t need you two teaming up against me.”
“I’m going to bring him a basket of treats next time I come over. He’s going to love me.” She yawns and closes her eyes. “I think I might go back to bed. It’s cold and I’m getting tired. Guess talking to you bores me to sleep.”
“Finally. I can’t feel my left ass cheek.” I slip out from behind her and stand. When I’m on two feet, I bend down and pick her up, carrying her in my arms. “Might spend all my time on the ice, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy being cold.”
“I can walk, you know.” Piper buries her face in my chest and yawns again. “I got out here on my own.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t around. I am now, and this is how you’re getting back inside.”
“Bossy. Hey. You’re going to let me spill my guts without telling me what your biggest fear is? Doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“I don’t like heights,” I say, stepping inside to the warm living room.
“You looked over the edge of the balcony.”
“Because I’m familiar with the space.”
“We’ve been out on Maverick and Emmy’s patio.”
“I don’t look down. Just out.”
“Ah, I see. Tricking your mind into thinking it’s not up high.” She taps the side of my head and smiles. “Smart, Sully.”
I like her using a nickname with me. It might be the same one half the guys use, but still. It makes me think she’s comfortable enough around me to call me something stupid. And that feels important.
I drop her on my bed and take the spot next to her. Piper flips onto her side and tugs on my arm, asking me to hold her. I kiss the top of her head and rest my chin in the crook of her neck, terrified to tell her my biggest fear isn’t heights.
It’s how much fun I’m having. How relaxed I feel when she’s around, and how the more time I spend with her, the more I don’t want this thing between us to end.