31. Piper
THIRTY-ONE
PIPER
I don’t know how long I sleep, only that it’s the best sleep of my life.
I sink into deep dreams of floating on clouds. I bury myself under the covers and savor the stillness of my room. Every now and then I’ll wake, restless for only a second or two before I’m unconscious again.
The pressure in my temples starts to cease. The pain in my head slowly retreats until I’m blinking my eyes open. Until I’m warm and rested and on the verge of feeling like myself again. I stretch my arms over my head and pull the headache hat away from my face.
I blink into the dark, getting my bearings. Soft light filters under my door, and I swing my legs to the edge of the bed. Tapping my phone screen, I see that it’s just past three in the morning, the rest of the world asleep while I’m firmly awake.
Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I open the door and glance down the hall. The hum of the heater is the only noise in my quiet apartment, and I make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
A figure on the couch in the living room nearly causes me to scream until I realize it’s Liam , his tie half unknotted and his shirt rolled to his elbows. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and one of his shoes is off, the polka dot sock on his left foot proudly displayed.
He’s beautiful in the flicker of the lamplight. It’s such a different sight from who he is when he’s in the goal or when his head is between my legs—the dominant, possessive archetype of a man.
This is him stripped down.
Achingly tender.
Unbelievably kind.
My breath catches in my chest as I stare at him.
He stayed this entire time.
He’s folded himself onto the couch, in clothes that look far from comfortable, so he can wait around and check on me.
I know I told him I’d be happy if he was here when I woke up, but actually doing it is something I wasn’t prepared for.
I move toward him until he’s close enough for me to reach. I touch his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him, but he jolts awake. Sits up straight and jerks his head to the left then the right until his eyes settle on me.
“What’s wrong?” He rests his hands on my shoulders, touching me as if he thought I was a part of his dreams. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I brush my fingers over his jaw and the beard he hasn’t shaved in months. “I can’t sleep anymore.”
“What do you need? Water? Food? A shower?”
“I was on my way to get water then discovered the giant ogre sitting in my living room.”
“C’mere.” Liam heaves a deep breath, strong arms banding around my waist until I fall into his lap. I snuggle into his chest, welcomed by the scent of cologne and laundry detergent and the faint trace of sweat clinging to his button-up shirt. “How did you sleep?”
“Really well. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”
“How’s your head?”
“Are you only a fan of Twenty Questions when it concerns someone else?”
“When it concerns your health, yes.”
“My head is better. I’m still sensitive to light and sound, but I?—”
Liam clicks off the lamp on the table next to us, plunging the room in shadows without a second thought. “How’s that?”
I bite back a smile at his thoughtfulness and rest my hand right above his heart. It’s racing a mile a minute, a ferocious beat that has me curious what he’s thinking about.
“Perfect,” I say, because it is.
“I have water for you. And your medicine, which, according to the emergency nurse hotline, you need to be taking if you want to prevent future migraines. It’s only fifty-six percent effective, but that’s a hell of a lot better than taking nothing, believe it or not. Doris gave me a fucking earful for not being on your ass about your pills.”
“You called the emergency nurse hotline?”
“Yeah. Asked them what I’m supposed to do and how I can take care of you. I took a lot of notes. I’ll show you when the light isn’t triggering. My handwriting is chicken scratch, but you’ll get the idea. I also got your prescription refilled and delivered so you’re covered for the next few months.”
It feels like someone wraps a hand around my heart and squeezes unbearably tight, not letting go. I’m glad the lights are off, because otherwise he’d see the tears in my eyes and think I’m hurting when, really, I’m so ridiculously happy.
No one’s taken care of me when I’ve been sick before.
It’s always been an inconvenience, as if I planned to be in pain at a certain time.
I’ve had to fend for myself, wallowing in bed for twenty-four to forty-eight hours not because I’m stubborn and helpless, but because I’m too exhausted to make myself something to eat. Too worn out and lacking the energy I need to be a fully functioning human.
But Liam is here.
Holding me after leaving the arena, and that feels like it means something.
It has weight and importance, a significance I’m going to stew over when he leaves.
“Guess I should listen to Doris,” I say hoarsely.
“You better. She wasn’t happy with me.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen again. What were some of the ways she said you can take care of me?”
“Well, I got a whole lecture on photophobia. Then I got scolded for not tracking your medication, but when I told her I got your headache hat for you, she told me I was doing a good job. Made me feel like a million bucks.”
“Who knew you were so into praise?”
“Only from seventy-five-year-old nurses and you, apparently. Everyone else can fuck off.”
I laugh and bury my face in his shirt. “I think I need a shower. I haven’t rinsed off since yesterday morning, and I feel disgusting.”
“What about food? When’s the last time you ate?”
“Um, breakfast yesterday? I think? I haven’t been hungry, but I should try to eat something.”
“All right, Pipsqueak.” He stands and lifts me in his arms. “Let’s get the ball rolling.”
“Liam. It’s the middle of the night. You have practice tomorrow and need to get some sleep.”
“No practice. Coach canceled morning skate. I don’t have anywhere to be until the weight room in the afternoon.”
“Okay, forget practice. It’s still the middle of the night, and I can fend for myself. Really. You don’t have to do all of this.”
I catch a glimmer of heat in his eyes as we walk down the hall. His jaw is tense and the frown on his mouth makes it feel like there’s a pit in my stomach.
“You’re doing it again,” he murmurs, and I lift my chin to stare at him.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending your shit isn’t as important as my shit. It is, Piper, and it really pisses me off when you think I’m doing this for any reason other than because I want to. I get that you think you’re being a pain or too demanding—that people have made you think like that before— but I’m fucking begging you to ask for help from someone who wants to be here with you. When you do, you’re going to learn there are a lot of people out there who would drop everything. Including me.”
His words consume me. They wash over me, a tidal wave I have no idea how to respond to.
I’m not sure I can.
It’s too raw. Too real. Too much outside the labels we’ve curated for ourselves, and thinking of him as anything other than the grumpy goalie who is my friend and bedroom coach terrifies the hell out of me, because I’ve seen what I could lose. I’ve seen the man Liam is and the ways he measures up to Steven, far outweighing him in every single category.
He wants to be here.
He wants to help, and this is all so new.
I want him here too.
“Okay,” I whisper, gripped by the fear of rejection but shoving it aside because I trust Liam. I trust him so much it hurts. “Would you stay and help me?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He makes his way to my bathroom, only setting me down when the water is running and steam billows out of the shower. “Take off your clothes.”
“You take yours off first.”
His fingers deftly unknot the tie around his neck. Pull it free from his collar and toss it on the marble floor. The buttons of his shirt come undone next, one by one until he’s bare-chested and staring at me.
My hands shake as I tug my sweatshirt over my head. I’ve been naked in front of him a dozen times now. I’ve had his fingers inside me and my mouth on his cock, but there’s something startling about this moment that makes it feel different .
Monumental, almost.
He’s seen me when I’ve been at my most vulnerable. When I’m hurting and weak and small, he stuck around.
I know I’m taking off my clothes, but I think I might be letting down my walls too. Crashing through that fear and leaning into him because he’s sturdy and strong and unwavering.
His eyes never stray from mine as I step out of my sweatpants. They stay on my face, a softness I’ve gotten used to seeing behind the dark brown whenever he looks at me. I climb into the shower and water streams down my body. Liam joins me a second later, his presence welcome.
“Sit,” he murmurs, pointing to the ledge attached to the wall. I can barely fit on it, my ass taking up too much space, but I listen, dropping to the cool stone and watching him wondrously. “Want to wash your hair.”
Liam unhooks the shower head and wets the blonde strands. I sigh at the way his fingers massage my scalp, the pressure he adds where I’m holding onto lingering pain.
“Doris also told me massaging might help.” He sets the shower head aside and uses both hands to press at my temples. A groan slips out of me, my limbs going pliant and relaxed. “But you tell me if it’s too much.”
“Perfect,” I whisper, and I don’t know if I’m talking about the massage. About him. About all of this. “It’s perfect.”
I think I fall asleep when he lathers the shampoo in my hair. I think my brain turns to mush when he drops to his knees and washes my feet and legs. Across my stomach and up to my shoulders until I’m covered in soap suds. He kisses me, and a lightbulb goes off in my head.
It’s bright and it’s blinding and the only thing I can see.
Holy shit .
I have a crush on my husband, and that was not part of the plan.