Chapter 28 #2
She's fully crying now, and I'm probably crying too, and neither of us cares.
“Tonight, when I scored that goal, when we won the Cup, my first thought wasn't about hockey or the championship or any of it. It was I wish Avery were here to see this.” I bring her hands to my lips. “Nothing means anything if I can't share it with you.”
Before she can respond, there's a knock on the door.
“Nova,” Cole calls out. “Press conference. Now. They're waiting.”
“Five more minutes,” I shout back.
“We don't have five minutes. The media is getting restless.”
I look at Avery, torn. “I have to go.”
“I know.” She pulls her hands away. “Go.”
“Come with me.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Please.”
I lace my fingers through hers. “We'll figure out the rest later. But right now, please. Come with me.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I'm already pulling her toward the door. Cole stops pacing when I open the door.
Avery tries to pull away. “This is your moment. I can't—”
“You can.” I squeeze her hand. “Please. I need you there.”
Cole looks between us, then nods. “Alright. Let's move. We're already late.”
The walk to the media room is a blur.
“This is insane,” Avery mutters, but she doesn't let go of my hand.
The media room is packed. Cameras are everywhere, the lights so bright it's disorienting. I take my seat at the long table, and I pull Avery down into the chair beside me.
She tries to protest, but I keep hold of her hand, making it clear that she's staying.
The questions start immediately.
“Cole, how does it feel to captain a Stanley Cup-winning team?”
“Liam, take us through that game-winning goal.”
“Jake, this is your first Cup. What does it mean?”
We answer on autopilot, the standard responses about hard work and team effort and the honor of winning. But my mind is elsewhere, already planning what I need to say.
Finally, there's a lull in questions.
“Actually,” I interrupt, “I'd like to say something. If that's okay.”
The room goes quiet. Every camera swings toward me.
Cole leans over. “You sure about this?”
“Never been more sure of anything.”
He nods and sits back, giving me space.
I take a breath and look directly into the cameras.
“First, thank you to the fans and the media for supporting us all season. For believing in this team. For showing up game after game. We couldn't have done this without you.”
Standard thank you speech. Everyone is nodding along.
“But I also need to address something. Something personal.” My hand finds Avery's under the table. “A lot of you have followed my career for years. You've seen me at my worst.”
The room is completely silent now.
“And this season, you saw me change. You saw me clean up, settle down, and start acting like a professional. And some of you loved it. Some of you hated it. Some of you blamed my girlfriend”—I squeeze Avery's hand—“for trying to change me.”
Cameras are flashing like crazy now.
“But here's the truth. Nobody changed me. Nobody forced me to be different. I changed because I wanted to. Because I was tired of living my life based on what you all thought of me.”
The energy in the room shifts.
“Avery didn't ruin me. She didn't make me boring or less fun or any of the things people have said. She just helped me see that I could be more than the reputation I'd built. That I could be better. For myself. Not for cameras or headlines.”
Someone tries to ask a question, but I keep going.
“So here's what I need to say. I'm done. I'm done with Nova, the party boy persona. I'm done living my life for your approval. I'm done trying to be whatever version of me gets the most likes or the best headlines.”
I look directly at one camera. “I'm just Liam now. And if that's boring to you, if that's not entertaining enough, then go follow someone else. Because I'm not going back to who I was. Not for anyone.”
The room erupts in shouted questions, but I'm already standing, pulling Avery up with me.
“Thank you for respecting my privacy as I figure out what this new chapter looks like. And congratulations again to my team. We won a fucking Stanley Cup tonight, and that's what really matters.”
I start walking out, pulling Avery with me. The reporters are shouting questions, but I don't look back.
Cole's voice cuts through the chaos. “The man has spoken. Respect that. This press conference is over.”
I don't hear what happens next because we're already through the door, down the hallway, and I'm pulling Avery around a corner where we can finally be alone.
“That was—” she starts.
“Necessary,” I finish. “I needed them to understand, and I needed you to understand.”
“Liam, you basically broke up with your entire public persona on live television.”
“I know.”
“You're going to lose fans. Probably endorsements.”
“I don't care.” I cup her face in my hands. “Don't you get it? I don't care about any of that anymore. The only thing I care about is you. Is us. Is building a life with you that's real.”
Tears run down her cheeks, and I brush them away with my thumbs.
“You're insane,” she says.
“Probably. Is it working?”
She laughs through her tears. “Maybe.”
“Just maybe?”
“I'm scared,” she admits. “You hurt me, Liam. Really hurt me.”
“I know. And I'll spend however long it takes proving that I won't do it again.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I love you, Avery. The real me loves the real you.”
Then she's kissing me, and I'm kissing her back, and nothing else matters.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless.
“We should probably get out of here,” I say. “Hudson is waiting.”
We make our way through the back corridors, avoiding the main areas where celebrations are still happening. Hudson has the car ready at the private exit, and we slide into the backseat together.
“Hudson,” I greet him. “We won the Cup!”
“Congratulations, Mr. Novak. Excellent game.”
“Thanks, man.” I pull Avery close. “Now take us home. I need to properly celebrate with my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend,” Avery says, testing the word. “Is that what we are now?”
“That's what we've always been. We just forgot for a few weeks.” I kiss her temple. “I love you. I'm in love with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to strip you naked.”
“Liam.” She puts her hand over my mouth, laughing. “Hudson is right there.”
“He doesn't mind. Do you, Hudson?”
“Not at all, Mr. Novak,” Hudson says, but he lets out a chuckle.
Avery laughs, the sound filling the car and my chest with warmth. “This is insane. You're insane. We're insane.”
“Is that a yes?”
“A yes to what?”
“To us. To trying again. To moving forward instead of backward.”
She's quiet for a moment, studying my face in the dim light of the car. “I'm choosing to trust you and to believe that you meant what you said back there. That you're really done with Nova and ready to just be Liam.”
“I am. I promise.”
“If you hurt me again…”
“I won't. I swear on the Stanley Cup we just won, I won't.”
She smiles. “I love you too, you know. Even when you're being an idiot. Even when you're making grand gestures on live television.”
I cut her off with a kiss, pulling her into my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck, and suddenly we're making out in the backseat like teenagers.
“Your place or mine?” I murmur against her lips.
“Yours. The puppies are there.”
“Our puppies,” I correct. “They've been asking about you.”
“Dogs can't ask questions.”
“Princess has been moping. I swear she's been depressed without you. Just like me.”
She laughs, and I capture the sound with another kiss.
“Move in with me,” I say suddenly.
She pulls back. “What?”
“Move in. With me. Into my apartment. Our apartment.” I'm talking fast again. “Bring your stuff. Make it yours. We can get more bookshelves for your collection, and you can finally organize my kitchen the way you've been dying to since the first time you saw it.”
Her eyes flick between mine. “Liam, it's too soon.”
“We've basically been living together for months. Your toothbrush is already in my bathroom. Half your clothes are in my closet. You have a key. The puppies consider you their other parent. What's the difference?”
“The difference is making it official. Admitting that we're doing this for real.”
“We are doing this for real.” I kiss her nose, her cheeks, her mouth. “I'm all in, Avery. I have been since Chicago, probably. So move in with me. Make it official.”
I can see her brain working through logistics and risks and all the ways this could go wrong.
“Ask me again in a month,” she finally says.
“A month?”
“If we make it a month without you doing something insane or me having a panic attack about our relationship, ask me again. And I'll probably say yes.”
“Probably?”
“Definitely. But I'm going to make you sweat it out for a month first.” She grins. “Call it insurance.”
“I can work with that.” I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring it. “I'm a patient man.”
She arches a brow. “Since when?”
“Since you. You've made me patient. And thoughtful. And willing to plan things instead of just acting on impulse.”
“That's character growth right there.”
“It's annoying, is what it is,” I say, but I'm smiling. “You've ruined me for my old life.”
“Good. That was kind of the point.”
We take the elevator up, pressed against each other, still kissing like we can't get enough. When the doors open and we stumble into my apartment, both puppies come running.
Princess launches herself at Avery, tail wagging so hard her whole body shakes. Trouble jumps around us, barking excitedly, clearly thrilled to have the family back together.
“See?” I say, watching Avery crouch down to pet them both. “They knew. They've been waiting for you to come home.”
“This isn't my home,” she says.
“Yet. It's not your home yet.” I pull her to her feet. “But it will be. In a month. After I've proven myself.”
“So confident.”
“I just won the Stanley Cup and got the girl. Of course, I'm confident.”
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. “You're impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” she corrects. “The impossible parts I tolerate.”
I kiss her again because I can, because she's here, because we're done hiding and pretending and being anything other than exactly who we are.
“I love you too,” I murmur against her lips. “More than hockey. More than winning. More than anything.”
“That's a lot of pressure.”
“You can handle it. You're Avery Carter. You can handle anything.”
She laughs and kisses me back, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that this is it. This is what happiness feels like. Not winning championships or getting praise or living up to expectations.
Just Liam and Avery, figuring it out as we go.