47. Liam
FORTY-SEVEN
LIAM
“Playing well tonight, Goalie Daddy.” Maverick knocks my stick with his in the locker room. “Nice save before intermission.”
“Thanks.” I tug off my gloves and bend over to re-lace my skates, grateful for a few minutes to sit down. “And thanks for keeping the offense on the other end of the ice. This game is a lot more fun when I have a second to breathe.”
Maverick laughs and grabs his water bottle. “Just doing my job, man.”
I move my attention to the other skate, unknotting the laces and pulling them free. I check to see if my ring is in the spot I’ve tucked it the last dozen games, and when I can’t find it anywhere, I freeze.
“Shit.” I take off the skate and shake it upside down, waiting for the metal to fall onto the locker room floor. Nothing comes. “ Shit .”
“You okay?” Hudson asks.
“No, I’m not okay.” I stand and dive into my locker. I throw my practice jersey out of the way and move my sticks around. “Where the fuck is my ring?”
“Ring? You never wear rings,” Riley says.
“My wedding ring,” I seethe, crouching down and rifling through my gym bag. “ FUCK .”
“I’m going to need someone to fill me in here, because for a second I thought GK just told us he got married,” Grant says. “When the fuck did that happen?”
“I knew. I knew and I didn’t say shit to any of you fuckers,” Maverick announces. “I’ve known for weeks and holy shit . It’s so nice to have this out in the open and not a huge fucking secret.”
“I was the witness,” Hudson draws out, and Maverick groans.
“Dammit! Can’t I have anything?”
I ignore them, too busy ripping apart all of my belongings to care about who knows what. I don’t stop until there’s a mess at my feet. Until my chest heaves and I still come up empty-handed.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to take a deep breath. To calm down and try to think rationally. I made a diving save in the second period. The ring probably came loose and ended in the back of the goal with a pile of ice chips.
“Piper and I got married in Vegas,” I tell my team. Someone gasps. Another drops their stick, and the entire locker room stares at me. “It was an accident. Some drunken thing neither one of us remembers, but we decided to stay married until at least the end of the season. I’ve worn the ring she gave me at every game, but now I’ve lost the fucking band, and I want it back.”
“Whoa,” Ethan whispers. “Goalie Daddy is in love .”
“Boys,” Maverick announces, and I lift my chin to look at him. Everyone does. “There comes a time when your personal choices far outweigh the greater good for the team. I had my moment when we played against Emmy’s ex and I got to land some punches on him. Hudson had his moment when he left mid-game to be by his mom’s side during her last hours. Seymour had his when he got pulled last season when his wife went to the hospital to give birth. We’re paid to be professional athletes, but we’re humans first. And humans have emotions. Goddamn feelings we’re allowed to express, no matter what the media says.” He scans the men in the room, stopping at me to make sure I heard those last few words. “So. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go out there. We’re going to sacrifice our warm-up, and we’re going to find Liam’s ring even if it means crawling on our hands and knees.”
“Miller,” I start to say. “You don’t have to?—”
Maverick holds up a hand, stopping me. “You have my back. I have yours. End of discussion. Captain’s orders are to find that damn ring.”
Our eyes lock. I give him a single nod, and I hope I can convey the gratitude I have for him. “Winner gets a thousand bucks,” I add. “And a night at the bar with me.”
“Oh, shit.” Grant practically runs out of the locker room with Ethan hot on his heels. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” he yells as he disappears.
The room clears out until it’s only Maverick, Hudson and me. I put my skates back on and look at my teammates.
“That was a hell of a speech you gave,” I say to Maverick.
“Liked it?” He grins. “I’ve turned all soft now that I’m married. Guess I can say the same about you.”
I shove his shoulder and he laughs. “Fuck you.”
“Ah. There he is. My grumpy guy.”
“Word of advice, Sully,” Hudson says, and I glance his way. “Take it from someone who always wished he had more time. Telling someone how you feel about them is the most important thing in the world. Because one day you won’t be able to tell them anymore, and you’ll regret all the times you kept your mouth shut.”
I put my hand on Hudson’s shoulders. “Your mom would be proud of you, man.”
“Yeah.” He smiles, ever the optimist even when he’s in the depths of hell. “She would be.”
**
“Why couldn’t you have gotten a yellow band?” Riley calls out as he circles the crease for the fourth time. “Would be a lot easier to spot than a piece of fucking silver metal.”
“I’ll make sure to tell the gift shop where I bought it to stock up on different colors. I’m sure they’ll be happy for the feedback,” I draw out. “Goddammit. Where the fuck did it go?”
“Any luck?” Hudson asks.
“I’m not finding a damn thing.”
“Don’t lose faith, GK,” Riley says, moving his stick over the ice. “You have to have hope.”
“It’s the hope that kills you,” I grumble under my breath.
I get up and skate to the corner of the rink, the bend right against the boards. Fans bang on the glass and yell my name, but I keep my head down. I keep my eyes trained firmly on the ice, and my hope slowly wanes.
“ Hey ,” Maverick yells, and I jerk my head up. I look over my shoulder and see him waving at me from the opposite end of the ice. I take off, whizzing past our opponents who look at me like I’m out of my fucking mind. I probably am. “Is this it?”
He holds up a metal band. Relief sinks into me and I laugh, reaching for it and curling my hand to my chest when it’s safely in my hold.
“That’s it,” I say, and my teammates huddle around me.
You’d think we just won the Cup with how enthusiastic they are, and I blow out a breath that releases what feels like a thousand pounds sitting on my chest.
“I believe in miracles,” Grant yells, hugging me around my middle. “Let’s fucking gooooo!”
“See?” Riley jabs my knees with his stick. “Look what having hope does.”
“You might be onto something.” I squat down and loop the aglet through the ring, double and triple knotting the laces and tucking the jewelry deep in my sock for extra measure. “Thanks, you fuckers. Let’s win this fucking game.”
“No one else I’d get on my hands and knees for.” Maverick kisses my helmet. “Well, except for Emmy.”
“God, shut up, Miller.” I shove him off me, but I’m smiling from ear to ear. “No one wants to hear that shit.”
“Don’t lose that thing again,” he says to me pointedly, and I nod.
“Don’t plan on it. I’m keeping it safe this time.”
**
We win by one goal.
A wrist shot from Hudson just over the red line seals the deal and descends the arena into chaos. The victory cements us at the top spot in the East and the best record in the league, a far cry from our losing season four years ago.
I go down the line, shaking our opponents’ hands and pulling off my goalie mask. I give Hudson a high five before he’s called to do an interview with ESPN, the national broadcast wanting to hear his thoughts on his game-winning shot.
I take my time leaving the ice, letting myself celebrate this change in luck we’ve had. Winning feels good , and it’s nice to enjoy it with the fans instead of hearing boos after another loss.
At the other end of the rink, I watch Piper get set up for her postgame interview. Her cameraman holds up two fingers and she nods, adjusting her earpiece into her ear so she can hear over the noise of the crowd. She looks left then right, a frown settling on her mouth when she realizes she doesn’t have a player lined up.
There’s always someone waiting to jump in and chat her ear off, but tonight, there’s no one.
Hudson is still talking to ESPN. Maverick is signing autographs, his back turned toward her. Grant and Ethan are posing for photos with a group of kids in the stands, and Riley is gingerly moving toward the locker room with Lexi, an ice pack on the back of his neck after a rough fall in the final seconds.
Her frown shifts to panic when her cameraman holds up one finger and gestures around her. She says something with her hands and the microphone that’s usually glued to her palm almost falls to the ice.
I grind my teeth together and make a split-second decision, skating over to her just as she’s given a thirty second warning.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, and I hear the anxiousness in her tone. The way she’s rushing her words. “I’m going live in?—”
“Thirty seconds. You need someone to talk to?”
“Yes, but not you.”
“Wow.” I laugh. “I’m a little offended.”
“You know what I mean. You don’t do interviews. You never talk to the media.”
“Think I might like them if you’re on the other side.”
Piper blinks and relief floods her face. She bites her bottom lip and her gaze snags on mine. “Are you sure?”
“Come on, wife,” I murmur, dropping my voice low. “Ask me a question.”
Her cheeks turn bright red. She takes a step back and almost topples over, but I grab her by the arm before she can fall. She swallows and I track the bob of her throat when the red light turns on the camera and she plasters on a megawatt smile.
“Thanks, Bradley. I’m here with Liam Sullivan who recorded twenty-eight saves tonight in front of the hometown crowd. Liam, this victory puts you as the number one seed not only in the East, but the entire league. It’s number eight in a winning streak, which is the longest winning streak any team has amassed this season. What do you attest the Stars’ recent success to?”
“Chemistry,” I say, leaning on my stick and looking down at her. “We’re in a groove where everything is meshing well. We’ve spent so much time playing together, we know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We’re able to compensate if someone is slightly off their game, and we all just really want to fucking win.”
“A, uh, quick reminder we’re on live television,” Piper says, arching her brow at me.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I’ll pay the fine, don’t worry. What else do you have for me?”
Her cheeks go from red to crimson. I like riling her up. If all interviews were this fun, I’d do them after every game.
“You had another fantastic performance tonight, which brings you up to twelve shutouts for the year.” I stand up a little straighter. A smile twitches on my mouth and I stare at her, impressed. No one’s ever been so kind to me in a line of questioning before, not even back when I was a college player, and I warm at her attention to detail. “You’re also the league leader in save percentage. What goes through your mind when you’re out there, night after night, giving it your all? Does it eventually wear you down?”
“There’s physical and mental fatigue. That’s part of the game. How you react to that fatigue is what is most important,” I say when she lifts her microphone my way, and she nods in agreement. “Do I get worn out? Every night. Do I know I have a team I can rely on when I’m not at my sharpest? Yeah, I sure as shit—sorry, heck—do. I know I didn’t miss a save tonight, but it also doesn’t register in my head I had a shutout, you know? I’m out there grinding until the buzzer sounds, and at the end of the night, I want my team to have the most points.”
“Final question for you, Liam, and we’ll let you get back to celebrating with your teammates.”
“That eager to get rid of me?”
Piper rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “I am, actually. Before the third quarter, the team came out and had an unusual warmup. There was a lack of stretching and a lot more… crawling. Do you have any comment on this new pregame ritual?”
I bark out a laugh. “The internet is going to have a field day with that, aren’t they?”
“You all are already trending on social media.”
“Great. As for the crawling, we were looking for something.”
“And did you find it?”
“We did.”
“Must’ve been pretty important.”
“Yeah.” My eyes lock on hers and I smile. “Most important thing in the world to me.”
“I’m going to send it back to Bradley and Clarissa who will break down all of tonight’s highlights for you. Thanks for sticking around with us. Stay safe, be kind, and we’ll see you back here the day after tomorrow for the Stars’ showdown against the Cleveland Vipers.”
The cameraman gives us the all clear and Piper rolls back her shoulders.
“You’re good at your job,” I say.
“Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
“I knew you would be, but you’re very good at your job.”
“And you’re going to get me in trouble with my boss with your colorful language.” She sticks out her tongue. “Cursing twice on national television, Sullivan?”
“Sorry. It slipped out. I’d say it’s not going to happen again, but there won’t be another interview, so I’m safe.”
“You wouldn’t consider doing another one? I wasn’t too invasive, was I?”
“You were perfect. It’s just not my thing.”
“Thank you for jumping in. I really appreciate it. You saved me from having to talk to myself for five minutes.”
“Happy to help.”
“Are you going to tell me what you lost now? Instead of being vague in front of thousands of people?”
“Nah.” I grin at her. “It’s much more fun this way.”