Chapter 11
Liam
Practice is a disaster. I'm off my game, missing passes, taking stupid penalties in scrimmages. My head is somewhere else entirely, replaying the conversation with Avery, trying to figure out how she can be so fucking dismissive of what happened between us.
Except I've said worse. To how many women? Thanks for a fun night. I'll call you. Knowing I never would. Walking away without a second thought, while they probably stood there feeling exactly like I do now. Used and disposable.
This is karma, and she's making damn sure I feel every cut.
“Novak.” Coach yells after I miss an easy shot on goal. “Where the hell is your head today?”
“Sorry, Coach. Just tired.”
“Well, wake up. We play Detroit Thursday, and they're not going to go easy on you because you had a late night.”
I didn’t have a fucking late night. Not what you think anyway. The words form in my head, but no one would believe me even if I said them aloud. Not too long ago, I prided myself on my reputation. Now, it’s costing me the woman I want in my life.
Jake skates over. “You okay, man? You seem off.”
“I'm fine.”
“Right. That's why you just lost the puck in the offensive zone three times in a row.”
I take a long drink of water, trying to get my head straight. “Just distracted.”
“By what? Or should I say, by who?”
I glare at him. I told him about the hot woman I spent a night with in Chicago, but I haven’t told him that woman is my new publicist.
“Ah,” he says. “Woman trouble. Must be serious woman trouble if it's affecting your game this badly.”
“Drop it,” I all but growl. I’m not in the mood for this.
“Alright, alright.” He skates backward, hands raised. “But whatever it is, figure it out before Thursday. We need you sharp.”
Coach blows his whistle, calling us in. “Listen up. Media day is at eleven. That gives you thirty minutes to shower and get presentable. I want everyone looking professional.”
The guys groan. No one loves media day, but it's part of the job. We file off the ice and head to the locker room.
I'm peeling off my practice gear when Cole's voice cuts through the noise.
“Guys, quick word.” Our captain stands in the middle of the room, still in his equipment, commanding attention without even trying. “Media day isn't just about answering questions. It's about representing this organization. Image matters. What you say, how you act, it all reflects on the team.”
His eyes sweep the room, landing on me for just a beat longer than necessary.
“We've worked too hard this season to let off-ice distractions derail us. Keep it professional, stay on message, and remember, you're not just representing yourselves out there.”
The message is clear, even if he doesn't say my name. Everyone knows about my weekend. Everyone knows I'm the reason we're having this conversation.
I yank my jersey over my head harder than necessary.
“Got it, Cap,” someone says, and the room returns to its usual chaos.
“Hey, Nova,” Ryan calls out from across the locker room, grinning. “I saw those puppy pics on Instagram this morning. Six golden retrievers? That's a lot of commitment for a guy who usually can't commit to the same woman for six hours.”
The room erupts in laughter.
“Shut up, Ryan,” I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
“Maybe Nova's finally growing up,” Blake adds. “Trading in club girls for good girls who like puppies.”
“Or maybe,” Jake says with a knowing look in my direction, “he's trying to impress someone specific.”
I shoot him a warning glare, but the damage is done. The guys latch onto it.
“Oh shit, there's a woman,” Ryan says, leaning forward. “Nova has a woman he's actually trying to impress. This is historic.”
“There's no woman,” I lie, grabbing my towel.
“Bullshit,” Ethan says. “Nobody adopts six puppies on impulse unless they're trying to prove something. Who is she?”
“Does she work at the shelter?” Blake asks. “Is that how you met her?”
“There's. No. Woman.” I enunciate each word clearly.
Cole, who's been silently changing, finally speaks up. “Leave him alone. If Nova wants to adopt puppies, that's his business.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Even if it is obviously about a woman,” Cole adds with the hint of a smile.
The room loses it again.
“Even Cap agrees!” Ryan crows. “Nova's gone soft.”
“I haven't gone soft. I just didn't want six puppies to die. Is that so hard to believe?”
“From you? Yeah, kind of,” Ethan says, but his tone is more affectionate than mocking. “You're the guy who once told me attachment is for suckers.”
“People change.”
“They sure do,” Jake mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I flip him off and head to the showers, but I can still hear them laughing behind me.
“Ten bucks says he brings her to a game within a month,” Ryan says.
“I'll take that bet,” Blake responds. “Nova doesn't do relationships. This is just a phase.”
If only they knew the woman they're talking about is the one trying to fix my public image while simultaneously driving me insane.
By the time I'm dressed in slacks and a button-down, it's ten forty-five. I check my phone and see a text from Avery that came in twenty minutes ago.
Avery: Reminder. Stick to the talking points we discussed last night. Deflect questions about All-Star weekend, redirect to team success and community involvement.
Last night's phone call had been pure torture. Seven PM, right when I was feeding the puppies, and her voice was all business.
She had walked me through every potential question and every possible angle the reporters might take. Prepared me like it was my first rodeo.
And the whole time, all I could think about was how different her voice sounded when she was under me, gasping my name.
I type back: Got it.
Her response is immediate: See you at 11. Please be on time.
Avery is waiting outside the conference room, and my step falters when I see her. She looks so damn beautiful and untouchable. Nothing about her appearance suggests that two nights ago, she was naked in my bed.
“Morning,” I say.
“Good morning.” Her voice is crisp, professional. She doesn't meet my eyes. “Did you review the talking points?”
“Yeah. Multiple times.”
“Good.” She glances at her tablet. “The puppy posts are performing exceptionally well. Over two hundred thousand impressions in the first three hours. Engagement is up significantly.”
“So your plan worked.”
“It was a solid strategy.” She finally looks at me and smiles. “Are you ready for this?”
“As ready as I'll ever be.”
“Remember, short answers, stay on message, and try to appear approachable. The puppy story has already softened your image. Don't undo that work.”
My voice drips sarcasm as I say, “Yes, ma'am.”
Her jaw tightens at my tone, but she doesn't take the bait.
The conference room is packed with reporters from every major sports outlet and a few entertainment blogs that usually don't cover hockey. Cameras are set up in the back, red recording lights already on.
Cole, Jake, Ryan, and Ethan are already seated at the long table. I take the empty chair at the end, adjusting the microphone in front of me. Avery positions herself off to the side, tablet in hand.
Jennifer is at the front of the room, already addressing them. “Thank you all for coming. We're here today to discuss the Renegades' strong performance this season and upcoming games. The players will take questions for approximately twenty minutes.”
The questions start with Cole, as they always do.
“Cole, the team has won four of the last six games. What's working right now?”
Cole leans into his microphone, every inch the captain. “We're playing disciplined hockey. Everyone's bought into the system, and the results speak for themselves.”
Questions are addressed to other players, and I start to relax.
The questions flow about team dynamics, upcoming games, and individual performance. Standard stuff. Then a reporter in the third row locks eyes on me.
“Nova, there were photos of you during All-Star weekend at several clubs with different women. Some people are questioning whether that's appropriate behavior. What's your response?”
I take a breath. “I'm twenty-six years old. I have a social life. But I also recognize that my actions reflect on this organization and my teammates.” Usually, I laugh at these kinds of questions.
“Moving forward, my focus is where it should be. On hockey and on making a positive impact in the community.”
“Speaking of community,” another reporter jumps in, “we saw the Instagram posts this morning about you rescuing six puppies. That's quite a turnaround. Tell us about that.”
Relief washes through me. This is the pivot Avery planned for.
I shrug and repeat the story of how I came to adopt the puppies. There are a few laughs, including from Avery, when I give them a snapshot of the chaos of the first night.
“Are you keeping all six?”
I can’t help but smile just thinking about them. “That’s the plan. I've hired a professional dog sitter to help when I'm traveling or at practice, and they're adjusting well. They're a handful, but they're worth it.”
“That's quite a commitment for someone with your lifestyle and travel schedule.”
“It is. But some things are worth the commitment.” The words come out before I can stop them, and my eyes drift to Avery without meaning to.
She's looking down at her tablet.
The questions continue for another fifteen minutes. When it's over, Jennifer thanks the media, and I escape to the hallway where Avery is waiting.
“You did well,” she says without looking up. “You stayed on message. The puppy story is a hit.”
“All according to plan.”
“It was a good outcome.” She finally glances up. “I'll monitor the coverage throughout the day and send you a summary this afternoon.”
“Avery.” I step closer, lowering my voice so passing staff can't hear. “I miss you. Sunday night wasn't just sex for me. It meant something.”
“It can't mean something,” she hisses. “Why can't you let this go? Why are you making my job harder than it already is?”
The frustration in her voice and the way she's looking at me like I'm some kind of pest snaps something inside me.
Fuck it. I'm done begging. Done trying to convince someone who doesn’t want to be convinced.
“Consider it dropped.”
I turn and walk away before she can respond. Jake finds me in the parking garage, leaning against my car and staring at nothing.
“Hey,” he says. “You busy? I want to go look at cars. Thinking about trading in the BMW.”
“Now?”
“Why not? We're done for the day.” He studies my face. “Plus, you look like you could use a distraction.”
He's not wrong. “Yeah, alright. Let's go.”
We take my Audi since Jake's car is on its last legs. His words, not mine. I navigate through Manhattan traffic while Jake scrolls through dealership websites on his phone.
“So what are you looking for?” I ask, grateful for something normal to focus on.
“Something reliable. Maybe an SUV. Adult shit.” He glances over at me. “You want to talk about what happened back there?”
“Not particularly.”
“You're going to anyway, though, right?”
I let out a sigh. No point in keeping Avery a secret since obviously, we’re done. “Remember that woman from Chicago? The one I told you about?”
“The one who rocked your world and then disappeared?” He chuckles. “Yeah, I remember. You wouldn't shut up about her for two weeks.”
“It's Avery.”
Jake's head snaps toward me. “Your publicist Avery? The one who just—holy shit, man.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, that explains a lot.” He's quiet for a moment. “So what happened?”
“We happened in Chicago, and then again on Sunday, but she doesn’t want anything more to do with me.”
Jake lets out a low whistle. “This is bad.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“I'm serious, Nova. You and relationships? You're like oil and water. And now you're catching feelings for someone you have to work with? Someone who could derail your entire season if things go south?”
“I know it's complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jake laughs. “Dude, this is a fucking disaster waiting to happen. You've never been serious about anyone. Ever. What makes you think you can suddenly be relationship material?”
The words sting because they're true. “Maybe I want to try.”
“Wanting to try and actually doing it are two different things.” He turns in his seat to face me fully.
“Look, I'm saying this as your friend. Let it go.
This girl clearly has her shit together.
She's smart enough to know that getting involved with you is career suicide.
Don't drag her down because you're feeling something for the first time in your life.”
“So what, I just give up?”
“I'm saying maybe she's right to keep her distance. You've got a reputation for a reason, Nova. You don't do commitment. You don't do relationships.”
I pull into the dealership parking lot. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I'm not trying to be a dick. I'm trying to be realistic.” Jake unbuckles his seatbelt. “You want my honest opinion? She's protecting herself. And given your track record with women, can you really blame her?”
No. I can't. That's the worst part.
“Come on,” Jake says, finally opening his door. “Let's go look at beautiful cars. Leave women alone.”
We spend the next two hours at the dealership, but my heart isn’t in it. I wander over to the sports car section, not really paying attention. Until I see it.
The Lamborghini Huracán sits under the showroom lights like a work of art. Verde Mantis green. Aggressive and impossible to ignore.
“Beautiful, isn't she?” The salesman appears beside me like he's been waiting for this moment. “V10 engine, 630 horsepower, zero to sixty in 2.9 seconds.”
“How much?” I ask.
When he tells me the price, I should walk away. I should remember that I'm supposed to be cleaning up my image, not making impulsive purchases that'll end up in tomorrow's gossip columns.
“I'll take it,” I hear myself say.