29 - Avery
Avery
We’d been home for two days, and considering we had a week off from games, Coach Bennett gave us the time off.
I’d spent yesterday relaxing, refusing to change out of my pajamas, but today the boredom set in.
Grayson got back from Atlanta sometime in the middle of the night, but I won’t see him until tonight.
He has captain responsibilities today, which is for the best, considering my head’s been a wreck since our FaceTime. That night, I had been full-on spiraling, and all he had to do was talk to me for my entire nervous system to calm back down. Nothing about that screams casual.
And that’s what this was.
Casual.
He’d said so himself.
I’d texted Wesley to hang, but she was also busy with captain stuff. Harper didn’t even answer. Sloane is studying for finals. Becca and Haley are on a girls’ relaxation weekend.
I’m going stir-crazy, which is exactly why, when Liam texted me “Please go to lunch with me. I need a break from hockey and testosterone before I lose my mind,” I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
I may want my freedom, but that doesn’t mean solitude. I can’t stand being left to sit in my own thoughts, especially lately.
So now, I’m sitting across from Liam at a little outdoor restaurant near the harbor while he demolishes half the menu.
“You look like you got punched in the face,” I say, stealing a fry from his plate.
“I did get punched in the face.”
There’s a bruise darkening along his jaw, and he looks exhausted.
“Did you deserve it?”
“We kicked their ass.” He shrugs. “And maybe I made sure to tell them that repeatedly while the clock ran out.”
I laugh. Of course he did. It’s what I would’ve done too.
He runs a hand through his blond hair. “We got back from Atlanta at like three in the morning. I think my body thinks it’s still in the air.”
“But you won.”
“We did.” He perks up. “The series is done, and we have five days off before the next one.”
I take a bite of my burger. “Five days off sounds nice.”
“Two days to relax. One day to party. And two days to get back in the zone and act like resting is a crime.” He nods seriously.
“Athletes are psychologically unwell.”
“You’re a professional athlete too.”
“Exactly my point.” I grin. “I’m speaking from experience.”
A breeze rolls in off the harbor, carrying the smell of salt water and fried food. The patio is crowded with people enjoying the first genuinely decent day Boston’s had in weeks.
For a while, we just talk about sports, which is surprisingly easy with Liam because he watches every sport in existence, including soccer. We compare playoff formats, complain about travel, and argue about whether hockey or soccer fans are more unhinged.
“Soccer fans,” I say immediately.
“Hockey fans literally throw the most ridiculous shit onto the ice when we win.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s excessive.”
He grins, pleased with himself.
“Who will you play in the conference finals?” I ask.
“It’s probably going to be New York unless Nashville makes one hell of a recovery.”
I hope like hell they do. The last thing I need is Grayson and Damon sharing a sheet of ice now that Grayson knows exactly how Damon treated me.
“You know a lot of guys on that team, right?” He asks.
“Sort of, yeah.”
Liam waits a beat. When I don’t say anything else, he shrugs and adds, “Because you dated Damon Woods.”
It feels like a loaded statement, as if there’s something he wants to ask, but won’t, except maybe that’s just my paranoia talking.
“Yes, I did.” I roll my eyes. “He’s a dick.”
Liam nods once, completely accepting that as a sufficient explanation. “Strong review. One star.”
“Maybe two. He bought decent birthday gifts.”
“That’s fair. We appreciate honesty in consumer feedback.”
And then he moves on. There’s no digging around in my emotional baggage looking for buried treasure.
Honestly, it’s refreshing.
He steals the last fry off my plate before I can stop him.
“That’s the third time you’ve done that.”
“And yet you’ve done nothing to stop me.”
“I’m gathering evidence.”
“For what?”
“My eventual murder trial.”
He snorts.
The waitress drops off the check, and neither of us makes a move for it.
“God, I forgot what normal conversation feels like without it being testosterone-fueled bro talk.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Seriously. I’ve spent the last three weeks trapped with only my teammates.” He shakes his head. “It’s ruining my sex life.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Your sex life?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“The Liam I know has never once complained about a lack of sex in his life.”
He points at me. “Exactly.”
I laugh. “Maybe that’s a sign you should slow down.”
“Who are you?”
“Excuse me?”
He leans forward dramatically. “Avery Holt is telling me to dial it back?”
“I didn’t say become a monk.”
“We’re supposed to be soul sisters.”
“We are.”
“No. My soul sister would never tell me to have less sex.”
“Maybe your soul sister is telling you a hard truth."
He immediately gags. “I reject it.”
I throw a napkin at him. “You’re impossible.”
His grin softens slightly. “Actually, now that I think about it, this is suspicious.”
Uh oh.
“What is?”
“You encouraging me to settle down.”
“You’ve been punched in the head too many times. I never said to settle down.”
“You’re seeing someone.”
His words land hard. Am I that obvious?
My first instinct is to laugh it off or lie, but those options don’t sit right with me. The words sit on the tip of my tongue while I stare out at the harbor.
Finally, I sigh.
“Maybe?”
Liam blinks, then nearly falls out of his chair. “What?”
Several people turn to look at us, and I immediately wish I’d lied.
“Keep your voice down.”
“But you think relationships are useless. We’re supposed to be the same.”
“It’s not a relationship,” I say quickly, not liking how it sounds coming out of my mouth. “Or maybe it is.”
Shit, I don’t like that either.
My cheeks flush. Finally, I say, “My stance on relationships hasn’t changed.”
“But you’re in one.”
“It’s not defined that way.”
Considering we’ve agreed to be exclusive, consistently go on dates, and spend the night with each other, it kind of is defined exactly that way.
“Do you want it to be?” He asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.
This. This is why I told him. Because Liam might be a goofy playboy, but he’s got a heart of gold underneath it all.
I lean forward onto the table, burying my head in my hands and groaning.
“That doesn’t really give off happy relationship vibes,” he teases.
“I don’t know what I want,” I mumble into my hands.
“The fact that you’re even saying this to me right now leads me to believe that you do.”
I peek up at him, wondering where he’s going with this.
“Does anyone else know?” He asks, taking a sip of his water.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” His eyebrows raise while he pulls my hand away from my face, dropping it onto the table. “You’re telling me so that I talk you out of it.”
My stomach twists. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
Is it?
“If you told anyone else, they’d be thrilled to see you find someone. But you didn’t tell them; you told me. The guy who doesn’t do relationships. The one person who wouldn’t think a relationship is a great move.” He shrugs as if it’s obvious.
My palms start sweating against the tablecloth because he might just be right. Telling him seemed low stakes, as if I could take it back and he wouldn’t bat an eye.
Did I want to be talked out of it?
“That’s not why I told you,” I say, but my voice is low.
“It’s okay either way. If you want to date him, date him. If you want to dump him, dump him.”
“Dump who?”
The voice comes from behind me, deep and loud.
My stomach plummets as I turn toward Grayson, who is taking the last step up to our table.
His eyes glance between Liam and me, confusion flickering across his face. I try to meet his eyes, but he won’t hold mine long enough for me to read him.
He’s wearing a Blades sweatshirt with a baseball hat on backwards, looking comfortable and sexy at the same time.
My body thrums with the desire to wrap my arms around him, hugging him the way I’ve been dying to for two weeks, but regardless of Liam sitting right here, Grayson’s face is carefully composed the way it used to be when we were practically strangers.
Liam grins at him. “Hey, man. How’d the meeting with Coach Rylan go?”
“It was fine. What were you guys talking about? Who’s dumping who?”
“Avery was telling me about this guy she’s seeing, but only because she was hoping I’d help her figure out how to dump him.”
His expression tightens, but he quickly smooths it back out.
“That’s not what I said.” I sit up, almost knocking my drink over in the process. “I didn’t say anything close to that.”
Liam laughs, completely oblivious to the damage he’s causing. “Yeah, but you refused to even say it was a relationship. Clearly, you’re on the fence.”
“Shut up.” I bite out at Liam.
“Hey,” Liam whines. “You hate Grayson, not me, remember?”
He says it lightly, but Grayson doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look mad either, just completely unaffected by it all. If I hadn’t grown used to the actual passion that lies underneath it, I might not even be able to tell that he’s hurt.
But I can see it.
I want his warm smile. I want the gleam in his eyes. I don’t want this.
I should say something, tell Liam that I was talking about Grayson. Make sure Grayson knows that I was in no way planning to end things.
As I am pushing out my chair to do just that, Grayson finally speaks.
“So, are you going to dump him?” He asks, eyes landing on mine, studying me.
“I never said I was going to.” I hold his gaze.
“Then what exactly did you say?”
“That I don’t know what I want,” I admit.
“That’s not entirely true.” He shrugs casually, which just makes the next words hurt more. “You know that you don’t want to be in a relationship with him. At least not officially.”
“Didn’t say that either.”
“You kind of did.” Liam chimes in, and I shoot daggers at him.
“See,” Grayson says, “Liam seems to think that’s exactly what you said.”
“It’s not that simple.” I can’t stop the frustration that bleeds into my words.
He lets out a condescending chuckle. “Yeah, it kind of is.”
That does it.
“Of course you’d think that.” I narrow my eyes. “You have the perfect family. A history of happy, healthy relationships. You’ve got it all figured out, Grayson. Good for you.”
Liam whistles, looking between us as if wondering if he should step in.
“Right. As opposed to you, who would rather avoid facing actual emotions.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this–” Liam starts, but I talk over him.
“And what’s so wrong with that? Why is that such a problem? Knowing what I want doesn’t make me selfish.”
His jaw twitches at his own words thrown back in his face. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” His voice drops. “But if that’s what you want to do, Liam’s right. Cut the poor guy loose.”
A chill races down my spine at the iciness in his tone. My gaze drops to the floor because, as irritating as this entire conversation has become, he’s absolutely right. We can’t stay in this weird in-between forever.
“Anyways,” He says, glancing over to Liam. “I came to pick up lunch to go, so I’ll just go do that.”
“Sure.” Liam nods, but as soon as Grayson walks away, he adds, “Fuck, Aves, you guys really can’t stand each other, can you?”
He slaps his card onto the table to pay for the check. “I thought eventually you guys would figure it out, but it’s like fire and ice with you two.”
I sigh, part of me wondering if I should chase Grayson down, the other part knowing that neither of us is in the right headspace to say anything productive.
“Yeah,” I nod, “We’re just too different.”
I don’t want to believe that because I like being with him, but I still don’t know how this works long-term. And despite it all, as I watch him walk away, I realize the possibility of losing him feels a hell of a lot more terrifying than keeping him.
If he thought I wasn’t showing up at his house tonight to finish whatever the hell we just started, he still has a lot to learn about me.