Chapter 66
sixty-six
Liana
Getting ready for this doesn’t feel like getting dressed.
It feels like stepping into something that’s already in motion… and deciding not to step out of its path.
The silk of the blouse settles against my skin as I smooth it down over my stomach, the fabric soft but present, like a reminder every time I move that I’m here, in my body, not somewhere else.
The trousers sit clean and structured at my waist, holding me together in a way I didn’t realize I needed until now.
I pause in front of the mirror.
Not to fix anything.
Just… to look.
Really look.
My reflection doesn’t feel like something separate from me tonight. It feels like a version of me I’ve been trying to become without realizing it, steady, composed, aware of what’s coming but not folding under it.
My hand drifts to my stomach, resting there for a moment. Everything tightens, then settles.
The baby.
The relationship.
The fact that tonight, there is no quiet version of this. No hiding.
A slow breath leaves me as I reach for my coat, sliding it on, the weight of it grounding me further.
When I step out, Elijah is already waiting. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks at me.
And the way he looks at me… it steadies something in my chest that had started to climb.
His gaze moves slowly, deliberately, not rushed, not reactive. Like he’s taking me in, placing me, anchoring me in his mind before we step into everything outside.
“You ready?” he asks quietly.
It’s not pressure. It’s not expectation.
It’s an offer to tell the truth.
I swallow, then nod.
“I am.”
He steps closer, his hand sliding to my waist, firm and certain, pulling me into him just enough that I can feel the full weight of him beside me.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs.
“I will.”
Lucian is already at the door, leaning back like he’s been here all day, like none of this touches him, but his eyes flick up the second we step closer, sharp, assessing, missing nothing.
“Timing’s perfect,” he says lightly. “They’re already circling.”
“Of course they are,” I mutter.
He glances at me, something amused flickering there.
“You’re trending,” he adds casually. “That tends to attract attention.”
I huff out a breath.
“Good to know.”
There’s a beat as we move toward the door, and I can’t help but wonder if he is coming because Elijah asked him or if he has other reasons.
I tilt my head slightly.
“Evelyn’s going to be there tonight.”
His gaze flicks back to mine instantly.
There it is. Subtle. But not subtle enough.
“I assumed as much,” he replies.
Too smooth. A small smile pulls at my mouth.
“I’m sure you did.”
Elijah’s hand presses more firmly into my waist.
“Let’s go.”
The car ride is quiet, but not empty. Elijah’s hand never leaves me. It rests on my thigh the entire time, warm, grounding, his thumb moving in slow, absent strokes that keep me tethered when my mind tries to jump ahead.
Lucian sits opposite us, relaxed in posture, but his attention is everywhere. Every shift of the car, every light, every movement outside, it all registers.
I focus on Elijah, on the weight of his hand, on the steady rise and fall of my breath. Because I know the second we arrive, everything changes.
The arena is already alive when we pull in.
Lights.
Movement.
Voices carrying even through the closed car. My chest tightens before the door even opens, and I take a breath as the cool air hits me.
“Lia, over here!”
“Is this relationship real?”
“Are you confirming you’re involved with all three players?”
“How does it feel to be back in the public eye?”
“Any comment on the gala shooting was that connected to you?”
The questions collide into each other, sharp, invasive, relentless.
For a split second, my body locks. It’s too loud. Too familiar. That same sharp edge of being watched, picked apart, pulled into something I didn’t choose... No. Not the same.
Elijah’s arm wraps around me instantly, pulling me into his side, his body blocking part of the chaos, his presence cutting through the noise like something solid in the middle of a storm.
“Eyes forward,” he murmurs low against my temple. “I’ve got you.”
I inhale. Slow. Deliberate, then lift my chin and walk. We don’t stop. We don’t answer. Not a single question.
Lucian moves just behind and slightly to the side, his positioning subtle but precise, intercepting movement, redirecting proximity without it ever looking aggressive.
“Elijah, are you involved in the incident at the gala?”
“Is this retaliation?”
“Are you bringing violence into the league?”
That one lands. I feel the shift in Elijah immediately.
His arm tightens slightly around me, his hand pressing into my side in a way that feels like both warning and reassurance at once.
We keep moving through the doors, out of the noise. The shift inside is immediate. Quieter. Controlled.
But the adrenaline is still there, humming under my skin, my body still catching up to what just happened.
Elijah doesn’t let go.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me slightly closer as we walk deeper into the private section.
“You’re okay,” he says quietly.
I nod.
“I’m okay.”
And I am. Shaken, a little. Aware, definitely. But not broken. Not drowning.
Lucian lingers nearby, his attention scanning the space, but I catch it again, that flick of his gaze, across the room.
And I follow it.
Evelyn.
She’s speaking with someone, but she glances up at the same moment, her eyes catching his. There’s a pause. Small. Brief. But charged.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
We’re seated low.
Close enough to the ice that I can feel the energy of it, the cold bite of the arena air, the echo of skates cutting across the surface as players begin to filter out.
Elijah stays beside me, his body angled slightly toward mine, his hand still resting at my thigh like he doesn’t intend to let me out of reach.
The cameras are still there.
Not as close.
But I can feel them.
The awareness of being seen doesn’t disappear, it just changes shape.
“Lia.”
I turn.
Evelyn approaches, smiling, but her eyes are sharp, taking me in properly.
“You handled that really well,” she says quietly.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“It didn’t feel like it.”
“It never does,” she replies.
She squeezes my hand once before stepping back, her gaze flicking briefly to Lucian again.
He doesn’t move. But he’s watching her. Not the room. Her.
I file that away.
Movement on the ice pulls my attention back.
Warm-ups. And then, Jackson.
He skates out fast, confident, completely at home in a way that still catches me off guard every time I see it. He doesn’t look around aimlessly. He searches and finds me almost immediately. The shift in his expression is instant.
Sharp.
Focused.
That cocky edge settling into something more deliberate as he arcs slightly closer to our side of the ice. He lifts his hand and blows me a kiss.
Heat floods through me instantly, my breath catching as I instinctively lean forward just slightly, drawn to him without thinking.
Elijah’s hand tightens on my thigh. Not in restraint, in awareness.
Zach follows not long after, his presence calmer, steadier, but no less intentional.
His gaze finds me, holds for a moment, and he gives a small lift of his stick in acknowledgment.
Quieter, but just as meaningful.
I settle back slowly, my pulse still elevated, my body still buzzing, but something inside me feels different now.
Not like I’m being dragged into this. Not like I’m surviving it. Like I’m standing in it. Choosing it.
And as I sit there, Elijah’s hand steady on me, Lucian watching from the edges, Evelyn somewhere in the room, and the two men I love moving across the ice in front of me, I realize something I didn’t expect.
I’m not afraid the way I used to be.
I’m aware.
I’m exposed.
But I’m not hiding.