Chapter 6
Liam
Practice runs long today. Extra drills, extra conditioning. Coach rides us hard after the All-Star break. By the time I get home, my legs are dead and my head is still buzzing from this morning's meeting with Avery.
That kiss. The way she looked at me afterward. Like she wanted to fucking run and stay at the same time. I should feel guilty about it.
I pushed her boundaries when she’s clearly focused on her job. I’ve never been confused about a woman. The women I’ve been around are simple to read. They want the experience and the Instagram photo with a famous athlete.
But Avery is a puzzle I can't solve. One minute she's melting against me, the next she's building walls so high I need a ladder to see over them.
Is she attracted to me or just tolerating me as part of her job? She responds to my touch like her body is betraying her better judgment, but then she shuts down so fast it gives me whiplash.
It's driving me insane.
I grab a beer from the fridge and collapse onto my couch, pulling out my phone. Instagram, X, the usual mindless scrolling. Anything to avoid thinking about how badly I've fucked up my life lately.
Then I see it.
The post stops me cold. Six tiny golden retriever puppies are huddled together in what looks like a concrete kennel. I scroll down to the caption.
URGENT: These 6 babies need homes TODAY. Kill shelter closing tomorrow morning. Please share - these innocent lives depend on it. #SaveThem #LastChance
The puppies can't be more than eight weeks old. They're pressed against each other, scared and small and completely helpless. One of them is looking directly at the camera with huge pleading eyes.
I scroll through the comments. Dozens of people saying they wish they could help, but can't. Excuses about apartment policies, travel schedules, other pets. Everyone wants someone else to be the hero.
My chest tightens. These puppies are going to die tomorrow morning because no one will step up. Because it's inconvenient. Because it's not their problem.
Just like everyone stepped back when my dad left.
I put a call through to Hudson.
“Mr. Novak? You need a ride somewhere?”
“Yeah. I'm texting you an address. Some kind of animal shelter in Queens. We need to get there before they close.”
“Right away, sir.”
I screenshot the post and forward it to Hudson, then grab my jacket. Twenty minutes later, we're pulling up to a run-down building that looks more like a warehouse than an animal shelter.
The place is depressing as hell, but the woman who meets us at the door lights up when I explain why I'm here.
“You want all six?” she asks, like she can't believe it.
“All six.”
The paperwork takes forever. Background checks, adoption fees, vaccination records. The puppies are sleepy and docile in their crate, probably sedated for the ride home. They look even smaller in person and more fragile.
“They're brothers and sisters,” the woman explains. “Born to a stray we found a few weeks ago. Mama didn't make it, but these little ones are healthy. They'll need shots, proper food, and training.”
I'm nodding along, but I'm not really processing the details. All I can focus on is the fact that they're safe now. No one is going to kill them in the morning.
It's not until Hudson helps me carry the crate into my apartment that reality hits.
The second we open the crate door, chaos erupts.
Six puppies pour out like furry missiles, immediately scattering in different directions. They're terrified, disoriented, and apparently have been holding their bladders for way too long.
“Shit,” I breathe, watching one squat and piss all over my Persian rug. Another one is already chewing on my Italian leather shoes. A third is whimpering behind my couch like the world is ending.
“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Novak?” Hudson asks diplomatically, clearly trying not to laugh at the disaster unfolding in my living room.
“No, I got it. Thanks.”
Except I definitely don't have it.
The moment Hudson leaves, the reality of what I've done crashes over me. I have six terrified, hungry puppies in my apartment, and I know absolutely nothing about dogs. I don't have food, toys, beds, or any fucking clue what I'm supposed to do with them.
One of them, a tiny thing with a white patch on her chest, comes up to me and starts crying. Actually crying. Heartbreaking little whimpers that make my chest ache. I pick her up carefully. She's so tiny, I'm afraid I'll break her.
“Hey, it's okay,” I murmur, but she just cries harder. “You're safe now. I promise.”
Meanwhile, her brothers are systematically destroying my apartment. One has found my coffee table and is chewing on the leg.
Another is trying to eat something that definitely isn't food. They're stumbling around on unsteady legs and bumping into furniture.
I set the female puppy down and try to corral the others, but it's like trying to catch water with my hands. Every time I grab one, two others escape and find new ways to cause mayhem.
They are probably hungry, except I don't even know what puppies eat. Or how often. Or if they need special food. What if one of them gets sick? What if I'm doing everything wrong?
What if I just condemned six innocent animals to die because of my stupidity instead of the shelter's?
The panic starts in my chest and spreads outward. My hands are shaking as I watch them explore their new prison, completely dependent on someone who has no idea how to keep them alive.
I need help.
Jake would be the obvious choice, but I can't call Jake. He'd want to know why I suddenly have six puppies, and then laugh his fucking head off.
My party friends would be useless. Most of them can barely take care of themselves, let alone helpless animals.
That leaves Avery.
The thought stops me cold. I kissed her this morning. Crossed every professional boundary she's trying to maintain. She probably wants nothing to do with me right now.
But she's also the only person I trust who might actually help without making me feel like more of a failure than I already do. She's competent, organized, and smart. If anyone can figure this out, it's her.
One of the puppies starts making choking sounds, and my heart nearly stops. I grab him. He seems okay after a moment. But what if next time he's not okay? What if I don't notice in time?
Fuck it. I'm calling her.
She picks up on the third ring. “Liam? Is everything okay?” Her voice is cautious.
“Have you ever owned a dog?” The words burst out of me.
She pauses for a moment before speaking. “Yes, we had a family dog growing up. Why?”
Relief floods through me. “I'll send Hudson to pick you up. Please.”
“Liam, what's going on? It's eight o'clock at night.”
“I'll explain when you get here. Please, Avery. I need your help.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Fine. But this better be good.”
“I genuinely need your help. Hudson will be there in twenty minutes. Pin me your address.”
I hang up before she can change her mind, then immediately call Hudson to direct him. While I wait, I try to do damage control on my apartment. The puppies have found my kitchen and are investigating everything at nose level.
One is licking up crumbs. Another is chewing on a cabinet door. And of course, one is pissing on the floor.
I manage to scoop them all into the living room and use couch cushions to create a barrier, but they immediately start crying again. The sound is heartbreaking. These tiny voices are calling for their mother, who isn't coming back.
“I know,” I tell them, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I know you're scared. But you're safe now, okay? I promise you're safe.”
The little female with the white chest patch climbs into my lap, still whimpering. I stroke her soft fur as gently as I can, and eventually she stops crying and just curls up against me. One by one, her brothers join us, until I'm surrounded by warm puppy bodies.
For the first time all day, the chaos in my head goes quiet.
Twenty-five minutes later, my door buzzer sounds. I carefully extract myself from the puppy pile and buzz Avery up, then spend the next few minutes frantically trying to make my apartment look less like a disaster zone.
When I open the door, she's standing there in jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looks so pretty, but her expression is all business.
“So what's the emergency that requires—” She stops mid-sentence, staring past me into my living room. “Liam. What the hell?”
I turn to look at what she's seeing. Six puppies have escaped my cushion barricade and are now exploring the entryway.
“You said dog,” she says slowly. “Singular. These are puppies. Six puppies.”
“I know. I can explain.”
“How do you accidentally end up with six puppies?”
The judgment in her voice makes me defensive. “They were going to be euthanized. The shelter was closing. I couldn't just let them die.”
Her expression softens, but she's still staring at the chaos. “Okay, but Liam, this is a lot. Do you have any idea how to take care of puppies?”
“That's why I called you.”
She steps inside and closes the door, immediately crouching down as the puppies surround her. They seem to sense she's not a threat because they start climbing over each other to get to her.
“Hey, babies,” she says softly, and her whole demeanor changes. The professional mask drops away, replaced by something tender. “Oh, you're so little. How old are they?”
“About eight weeks.”
She picks up the female and examines her gently. “She's beautiful. They all are. But Liam, puppies this young need constant care. They need to eat every few hours, go outside constantly, they can't be left alone.”
Panic starts creeping back. “I fucked up, didn't I?”
She looks at me then. “No. You saved them. That matters. We just need to figure out the logistics.”
We. Not you. She's not lecturing me about impulse control or responsibility. She's staying.
“First things first,” she says, still holding the puppy. “They need food, water, and a safe space. Do you have anything?”
I shrug, feeling like a complete idiot. “Nothing.”
“It's okay. We'll figure it out.” She stands up, puppy still in her arms. “Pet store first, then we'll puppy-proof your apartment. This is going to be a long night.”
I just nod and grab my keys. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her smile is the first real one I've seen from her since Chicago.