Chapter 14 Liam
LIAM
The team’s on the road, just a few hours from home in Columbus.
The staff gave me the option to stay back since I’m still on injured reserve, but I needed to come.
We’re on a winning streak, one I can’t take credit for, but I want the coaches to see that I’m still engaged and still hungry. I don’t want Penn becoming the go-to guy once I’m cleared.
Paul watches me grind through the last rep, stopwatch dangling from two fingers.
“You’re moving clean,” he says, nodding to my form. “Strength’s up. ROM looks good. If you keep this pace, I’d say another week.”
I wipe sweat off my forehead, breath still sharp. “A week,” I repeat. “Two whole weeks early.”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, not everyone comes back like a pissed-off freight train.”
“I’ve been busting my ass,” I shoot back, grabbing my water bottle. “Therapy, training, cardio. Pain’s gone.”
Paul raises a brow. “And how’s your patience?”
I snort. “Nonexistent.”
He grins because he already knew that answer.
“I’m itching, Paul. I need to feel a puck on my stick. I miss the burn, the noise. The boys are flying out there, and it’s fucking killing me to watch from the sidelines.”
Feels like I’m not pulling my weight, not earning my place.
That fucks with my head.
Paul claps a hand on my shoulder. “One more week, Liam. Keep your head steady.
We’re flying out to Pittsburgh tomorrow. But we have the day off, other than a quick workout when we arrive.
So tonight’s basically ours. The guys are all amped from the win, and a pretty big group of us decides to go out.
Columbus, Ohio, isn’t exactly Vegas, but we find a big sports bar near campus with cheap beer, loud music, and greasy food.
Highlights are playing on the screens, music’s loud. Within minutes, people start noticing who we are.
Connor grins and raises his glass. “Ah, here we go. Groupies in the wild.”
Dom smirks. “You attract them, Murphy. They think you’re safe. Like a golden retriever.”
Connor flexes. “Buddy, nobody looks at this body and thinks safe.”
Laughter ripples through the table, and before long, a wave of college girls swarm the table, asking for selfies, autographs—some looking for more than that. They flirt, laugh, and perch on the guys’ laps. It’s the usual post-game circus.
One brunette with fake lashes and a crop top leans my way. “You’re Callaghan, right? The one who got hurt?”
“Still alive,” I say, lifting my beer.
She giggles, touching my arm. “Want help with recovery?”
Connor snorts. “Sweetheart. He needs a good slapshot, or a good lay.”
I lean back in my chair, one brow up. “Go flirt with someone at your own maturity level.”
He grins. “So… no one here?”
The table erupts again. Conner’s got a girl on each arm now, both laughing at jokes that aren’t that funny. The rest of the guys are feeding off it, shouting over the music, shots lined up like soldiers.
I’m halfway through my third beer, quiet, just watching the chaos unfold, when Connor’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Hey!” he yells across the table, pointing his bottle at me. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Callaghan? All these beautiful women out here, and you’re sitting there like a monk. Get your dick wet for a change!”
Everybody bursts into laughter.
I cringe because he’s so crass. I could throw out a zinger, that he gets his dick wet so often it might shrivel up and fall apart. But I don’t, of course, because that’s not my style. Instead, I just roll my eyes and brood as I finish my beer.
But he’s not done.
He takes the seat next to me, patting his lap as a pretty, petite blonde giggles and flops onto him, clearly drunk.
“Wait, wait,” he says, grinning wildly. “Is this about that hot curly-headed brunette from the other night? The little horny slut you were practically humping on the dance floor?”
My upper lip curls as I snarl, “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Connor puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, sorry. I didn’t realize she was special to you, that random woman you totally weren’t dry-fucking in front of God and everyone. It was totally chaste. My eyes were deceiving me for sure.”
I can’t say I’m not tempted to punch Connor in the mouth for talking shit, but not right here in front of all these people. Not with twenty cell phones pointed in every direction, each one ready to catch a clip of me brawling with a teammate.
Especially not when I’m about to get back on the ice.
I toss back the last of my beer and stand. “I’d like to say it was fun, but it wasn’t. I’m going back to the hotel.”
“I fucked that girl’s sister, I think,” Connor announces, ignoring me. “That night. She was a goooood lay.”
The girl on his lap is so blitzed, she’s just laughing as he talks about having sex with another woman. I’m so disgusted that I lean in and look her in the eyes.
“You’re too drunk, and you need to go drink some water,” I tell her. “Seriously. You’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.”
Thankfully, one of her less-drunk friends hears this and comes to her aid.
“Bella?” the friend asks. Bella gives her the glassy-eyed look of someone very unaware of her surroundings. The friend grabs her hands and pulls her from Connor’s lap. They stumble off toward the bathroom, where I suspect that little blonde will be puking very, very soon.
“Fucking cock-blocker,” Connor says, though there’s little venom in it. He’s a whore, but he’s not into having sex with someone unable to consent.
I raise an eyebrow at him and say, “Connor, stay away from those two women.”
“Who? The ones just now? Yeah, they’re too drunk. That’s not my thing.”
“No,” I say. “The sisters. Stay away from them.”
“Both?” he asks, incredulous. “Dude, you can’t have them both....unless you can?”
“Dude,” I say, shaking my head. I throw some money on the table to cover my drinks. “What are you, like thirty? Grow up.”
I don’t wait to hear whatever smartass thing Connor has to say next. Sometimes he’s funny, but most of the time he’s just loud, obnoxious, and gross.
I shake my head as I push out the door, the cool night air cutting through the heat in my chest.
Outside, the noise fades. I pull out my phone to figure out the walk back to the hotel, glad for the quiet.
By the time I’m in my room, I’m calmer. A hot shower helps. Mostly.
After, I towel off and grab my phone again, thumb hovering over Emma’s name.
We’d agreed to go on a date, but our schedules haven’t lined up yet. I’m hoping it’s just that, not her getting cold feet.
I really want to see her. To spend time with her.
My life’s a goddamn mess, and yeah, maybe I should keep her out of it, but fate, coincidence, whatever you want to call it, brought her back.
And I’m not about to let her slip away again.
Liam: What are you up to?
She responds quickly to my basic check-in text.
Emma: Hey, you. At work. How was the game?
Liam: Good. We won.
Liam: I won’t bug you if you’re working.
Emma: I’m due for a break. Want to Facetime?
Liam: Sure. I’d love to see that beautiful face of yours.
She sends back a blushing emoji, and a few minutes later, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call.
“Hey,” I say.
She grins. “Hey, to you. Are you at the hotel with the team?”
I nod. “Yeah. The guys went out. I went for a bit, but it wasn’t my scene, so I left early.”
“Not feeling like showing your moves on the dance floor tonight, huh?”
“Only for you,” I answer, and though I mean it, I try to make it sound jokey and flirty. I peer into the camera. “Where are you? It’s so dark.”
“Oh,” she says with a little laugh, switching the direction of the camera so I can see. “It’s our breakroom. No one is in here right now, though.”
“What’s in there?” I’m squinting, looking like a nosey old man.
“Um...a table and chairs, some lockers...” She wanders around the space. “There are two little sleeping nooks, and in the back, there’s a shower and restroom.”
“Have you ever taken a nap in those? What did you call them...nooks?”
“Fifteen minutes here or there, especially when I first started working nights. But now I’m usually fine to work the whole shift without a nap. Really, it’s for the docs. They work stupid long shifts, and no one wants someone making critical medical decisions with a tired brain.”
“Good point,” I say.
She switches back to selfie mode, and I watch a slow grin spread across her luscious lips, and she looks over her shoulder on one side, then the other.
She leans in and whispers, even though there’s supposedly no one else in the room with her, “People have sex in here sometimes.”
The way she says it, like it’s super scandalous, cracks me up. I can’t help grinning.
“It’s like the show Grey’s Anatomy up in here. Nurses and doctors. Doctors and doctors. Nurses and nurses.” She seems gleeful about it. “I’ve walked in on some pretty interesting stuff.”
“What about you?” I test, not really wanting to know the answer. “Have you ever...”
“No!” she exclaims, which makes me oddly happy. “I don’t do that with coworkers.”
“Okay, okay,” I say. “I mean...people have needs...sometimes.”
She’s obviously had sex since I. She has a kid, for crying out loud. I can’t be a jerk about the fact that she has a sexual history.
I do, too.
“I mean,” she says, and it’s dark, but I think I can see a blush creeping onto her high cheekbones. “Sure. People do have needs.”
“And how do you feed those needs, Emma?” I ask, knowing I could totally be crossing a line. My tone is less humorous, darker. My cock twitches in my sweatpants just thinking about her that way.
“I, ummm...” she bites her bottom lip. “I haven’t...been with anyone in a while. So, I uh...”
“Touch yourself?” I ask.
She nods.
“Would you ever do that for me? Show me how you do it?”
She looks over her shoulder and bites that lip again. “Now?”
“If you’d like,” I say. “I can join you.”
She hesitates for a minute, but then gives another little nod, and I see the background changing. She slips into one of the sleeping nooks and says, “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to put the phone somewhere where I can see you,” I say. “I’ll do the same.”
We both adjust, setting up our phones so our bodies are visible. She pulls her scrub pants down so I can see her pussy. I could come just from seeing her like this.
I pull off my pants and let her see that I’m already hard.
I stroke myself a few times. “I’m hard for you, Emma. This is for you. Touch yourself. Imagine it’s my thumb on your clit, my mouth on your pussy, my fingers inside you. Whatever gets you there.”
She touches herself, her middle finger working her clit before dipping inside her folds.
“Show me how wet you are,” I say, pumping my cock.
She puts her fingers inside that sweet pussy and pulls them out. They glisten in the phone’s low light.
Her breath catches as she moves, eyes locked on mine through the screen.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Just like that. Em. Go faster, harder. Imagine those are my fingers fucking you.”
Her lips part, a soft sound escaping her.
“Lift your shirt,” I tell her, and she does, slowly and deliberately, never breaking eye contact. “I want to pinch those perfect nipples, to suck on them, to bite them.”
“Do you want that?” I ask.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, I want it. I want more.”
“I want it, too,” I say, getting so close to coming.
“I want your perfect lips on my cock. I want to spill myself inside of you, down your throat. I want to fill you with my fingers and my dick. I want you so full you can’t breathe.
I want you to come for me, screaming my name.
I want that with you, Emma. I want it so bad. ”
She tenses, breath catching, body arching as a sound breaks from her throat — low, raw, and beautiful.
Watching her unravel like that does something to me I can’t explain. I lose my shit at that sound, the air between us thick with heat and connection, even through the screen.
When it’s over, she exhales a shaky laugh, brushing her hair back and tugging her shirt into place. “That was... fun,” she says, her cheeks still flushed.
I feel one side of my face lift in a lopsided grin. “Indeed. Thanks for that.”
“I’d have died if anyone had caught me.”
“Ah, then it’d be even. I mean, you’ve caught people doing worse.”
“Yeah, but…” She looks away from the camera, embarrassed.
“Did it feel good?” I ask.
She looks back at the camera. “More than good.”
“And no one walked in. So we’re good, right?”
“We’re good,” she says. “But I do need to wash up and get back on the floor.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll, uh, text you tomorrow?”
“I’d like that,” she says. “Goodnight, Liam.”
“Goodnight.”
We hang up, and I sit for a long time, cock still gripped in my hand, just thinking about what just happened.
I hope I didn’t make things weird between us. I hope she really liked it.
When I finally clean myself and the room up, I’m dead tired, and even though my mind is spiraling into some weird, anxious space, I fall asleep easily.
Emma is the only thing on my mind.