16. Liam
16
LIAM
C oach Bergman’s voice cuts through the room, explaining our defensive setup for the second round of the playoffs tonight. I should be paying attention, but I can’t help noticing Noah and Olivia exchanging glances. Each look feels like a punch to the gut, twisting the knife of jealousy deeper. The memory of my night with Olivia clashes violently with the obvious connection she has with Noah.
“Liam!” Coach’s bark snaps me back to reality. “You good?”
“Yeah, Coach,” I lie, forcing myself to focus on the whiteboard. But even as I nod along to his strategy, my mind is a whirlwind. I glance at Noah, who’s leaning back in his chair, chewing on his damn pen like he's done for as long as I can remember when he's nervous. He catches Olivia’s eye again, and they both immediately turn away. Like one of them is Medusa and may turn the other into stone if they look too long. My stomach churns.
Colt nudges me with his elbow. “You okay, man? You seem like you're somewhere else.”
“Just thinking about the game,” I mutter, avoiding his eyes.
He chuckles. “Sure you are.”
I grit my teeth, wanting to wipe that grin off his face. But instead, I force myself to look at Coach Bergman, who’s now discussing our power play.
“And remember,” Coach says, pointing at me, “Liam will lead the defense. Keep it tight, no unnecessary risks.”
“Got it,” I say automatically, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
Olivia shifts in her seat near the back of the room, scribbling notes with focused intensity. The way her auburn hair falls over her shoulder as she writes… Damn it, Liam, get a grip.
Coach wraps up the meeting with a final pep talk. “Alright boys, let’s hit the ice and make this count.”
As we stand to leave, Noah claps a hand on my shoulder. “Ready to show ‘em what we’re made of bro?”
“Always,” I reply gruffly.
We head out to the rink, but my mind is still on Olivia and Noah. As we lace up our skates in the locker room, I can’t shake the feeling that something fundamental has shifted between us.
I spot Olivia watching from the stands as we take our positions on the ice. Her eyes follow us intently—no doubt gathering material for her article—but all I can see is how her gaze lingers on Noah just a fraction longer than it does on me.
The puck skitters past my stick, and I curse under my breath. What the hell is wrong with me today? I glance up, and there’s Olivia in the stands, her green eyes following every move. Her presence feels like a lead weight around my neck, pulling me down with every mistake.
“Focus, Makar!” Coach Bergman’s voice rings out. I nod, forcing myself to snap back into the game.
Noah races past me, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with a sharp intensity. He catches my eye for a split second. There’s something unspoken in that look—concern, maybe even guilt. Damn it, Noah.
I dig my skates into the ice, chasing after the puck as it bounces off the boards. My timing is off again; I collide hard with Ethan. We both go sprawling onto the ice in a tangle of limbs and curses.
“Watch where you’re going, Makar!” Ethan growls, shoving me off as he scrambles to his feet.
“Maybe if you weren’t always in the wrong place,” I snap back, hauling myself up and brushing ice shavings off my pads.
Ethan’s eyes flash darkly. “Maybe if you were more focused on the puck rather than what's between Olivia's legs you would…”
Before I can respond, or throw the first punch, Coach Bergman’s whistle cuts through the tension like a knife. “Liam! Bench! Now!”
“What?” The word slips out before I can stop it.
“You heard me, you want to act like a fucking child, you can sit in timeout like one.” Coach says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I skate to the bench, every muscle in my body taut with humiliation and anger. This never happens to me. I'm Liam Makar—captain of this damn team.
Coach doesn’t even look at me as he barks orders to the rest of the team. My eyes find Olivia again, her pen still moving rapidly over her notepad. She glances up and our gazes lock for a moment that feels like an eternity. There’s something in her expression—pity maybe? It makes my stomach churn even more.
As soon as practice ends, I storm into the locker room, my skates carving a path of fury. Noah's chatting with some of the guys, his laughter grating on my nerves. I slam my helmet into my locker, the metallic clang echoing through the room.
“Noah! We need to talk.”
He looks up, brow furrowing. “What’s up?”
“Outside. Now.” My voice leaves no room for argument.
Noah follows me out to the hallway, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. As soon as the door swings shut behind us, I round on him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
“What are you talking about?” He crosses his arms, trying to play it cool, but I see the tension in his jaw.
“What happened between you and Olivia,” I snap. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Noah’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing. “I'm sorry, did I miss the part where you told me you were seeing her?”
My fists clench at my sides. “I shouldn't have too.”
“Oh really? And why is that, Liam? Because you’re the captain and think you can call dibs on whoever you want? That she wouldn't want anyone besides you?”
“That’s not?—”
“No, let me finish,” Noah interrupts, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting like a goddamn hypocrite. One minute you’re all about team unity and focus, and the next you’re making moves on Olivia like she’s some trophy.”
“Watch your mouth,” I growl, my anger bubbling over. “You don’t know what you're talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Noah fires back. “Maybe you should look in a mirror before accusing me of anything.”
The hallway door opens and some of our teammates file out, their chatter dying as they take in the scene unfolding before them. Colt nudges Ethan, who’s standing nearby with a smirk.
I ignore them all, my focus locked on Noah. “You went behind my back,” I accuse.
“And what about you?” he counters. “You can't tell me something didn't happen between you two, right after coach told us to keep things professional?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The room goes silent as everyone absorbs Noah's revelation.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeat weakly.
“Don’t I?” he says again, this time softer but no less intense.
Our teammates exchange uneasy glances but stay rooted in place, not daring to intervene.
“You betrayed our friendship,” I say through gritted teeth.
Noah steps closer until we’re practically nose-to-nose. “If you're going to let blurred lines destroy a friendship, then it wasn't the friendship I thought it was in the first fucking place.”
For a moment, we just stand there, breathing heavily and glaring at each other like bulls ready to charge. Then Ethan’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“This is entertaining and all,” he drawls sarcastically, “but maybe you two should go get some midol and call it a day.”
I tear my gaze away from Noah long enough to see Ethan leaning against the wall with that damn smug expression.
“Stay out of this,” Noah snaps at him.
Ethan raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying.”
I turn back to Noah, my anger still simmering but tempered by exhaustion. “This isn’t over,” I warn him.
“Damn right it isn’t,” he replies coldly before turning on his heel and walking away.
I stand there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of our fractured friendship settle heavily on my shoulders as our teammates look between us uncertainly.
The tension with Noah, the mess with Olivia, it’s all too much. I need to clear my head, so I decide to shut everyone out. Like I'm used too. No more distractions. No more complications.
First step, cancel plans. Colt texts about a team dinner at Rick’s Barbecue.
Not happening.
I type back: “Can’t make it. Got stuff to handle.”
Next, I ignore Olivia's calls and texts. My phone buzzes on the bench as I lace up my skates for a solo training session. Her name lights up the screen, but I can’t deal with that right now. The memories of last night… hell, I need to focus.
I let it go to voicemail and throw my phone into my locker.
The rink is cold and empty—just how I like it. I push off hard, skating laps until my legs burn and my lungs scream for air. Each stride is a desperate attempt to outrun the chaos in my head.
The puck feels heavy on my stick as I drill shots at the net. Each slapshot is a release of frustration, a futile effort to regain control. The clang of the puck hitting the crossbar echoes through the empty rink.
“Damn it!” I shout, smashing my stick against the ice.
I skate harder, faster, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of drills: puck handling, passing against the boards, rapid-fire shots. Sweat drips into my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t stop.
The door creaks open behind me. Great. Just what I need—an audience.
“Hey,” Noah’s voice cuts through the silence.
I keep my back to him, focusing on lining up another shot.
“Liam, we need to talk.”
“No,” I snap back, sending the puck flying into the net with a force that rattles the goalposts. “We don’t.”
He sighs but doesn’t leave. Instead, he skates over to stand in front of me. “You’re shutting everyone out.”
“Yeah? Maybe that’s what I need right now.” My grip tightens on my stick.
“You think this is helping?” He gestures around us at the empty rink. “Beating yourself up out here alone?”
“It’s better than dealing with your bullshit,” I retort.
Noah’s jaw clenches. “You’re being a grade A dick.”
“Good,” I say flatly, moving around him to retrieve another puck.
“Look,” he continues, “I get that you’re pissed off?—”
“You have no idea,” I interrupt.
“I do know,” he insists. “But this? This isn’t solving anything.”
I line up another shot, ignoring him completely.
“You’re not just pushing me away,” Noah says quietly. “You’re pushing her away too.”
That gets under my skin. The shot goes wide and slams into the boards with a loud thud.
“Leave her out of this." I shout. "What do you want from me, Noah?” I ask through gritted teeth, finally turning to face him fully.
“I want you to stop acting like some entitled asshole. Like you're more deserving of Olivia than I am.” His voice is steady but laced with frustration.
“I am!” The words burst out before I can stop them.
Noah looks taken aback for a moment before his expression hardens again. “Wow,” he says softly. “I see how it is.”
"Noah wait"— I start. But he turns and skates toward the exit without another word.
I watch him go, feeling more isolated than ever as his figure disappears through the door. The rink is silent again except for my labored breathing and the distant hum of arena lights overhead.
Taking a deep breath, I drop onto one knee to tighten my laces and reset for another round of drills. Pushing through this is all that matters now—no matter how much it hurts.