"Thank you," he replied, his public mask softening slightly. "Your coverage was excellent, as always."
"High praise from someone who normally considers media a necessary evil."
"I'm evolving," Liam said, a hint of genuine humor warming his voice. "Though some media remains more necessary than others."
The moment felt unexpectedly comfortable—a return to the easy professional banter they'd developed amid all the PR complications. Before Libby could respond, however, she caught sight of Jane across the room. Her sister's usual composed expression seemed strained, her smile not reaching her eyes as she nodded along to whatever a team executive was saying.
"Jane doesn't look like herself," Libby said, concern immediately overtaking other thoughts. "Have you seen Chase tonight? They usually orbit each other at these events."
Something flickered in Liam's expression. "Coach Taylor needed him to review some special teams footage," he replied smoothly. "Playoff preparation never stops, even during celebrations."
Before Libby could respond, Charles D'Arcy approached, his measured stride cutting through the crowd with practiced ease.
"Liam," he said, his tone carrying that particular mix of authority and distance that seemed to characterize all their interactions. "The commissioner's on the phone. Wants to congratulate you on taking the 2-0 lead." He nodded politely to Libby. "Ms. Bennet-Cross. Excellent coverage of tonight's game. Your analysis was particularly astute."
"Thank you, Mr. D'Arcy," Libby replied. There was something in his gaze—a shrewd evaluation that made her wonder if he saw through their carefully constructed narrative. Unlike Kate's open hostility, Charles D'Arcy's polite interest felt somehow more unnerving, as if he were cataloging her value to the family brand.
Libby glanced toward Jane again, her sister's unusually pale face strengthening her resolve. "If you'll excuse me, I should check on my sister."
As she turned to leave, Liam caught her wrist, his fingers encircling it completely. The warmth of his grip sent an unexpected current up her arm before he abruptly released her, almost as if the contact had shocked him. His expression flickered with something raw and unguarded. "Libby, I—" He stopped himself. "I'll find you later," he added, his tone suggesting it wasn't merely a polite dismissal. His eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between them before he followed his father toward a quieter corner.
Libby made her way through the crowd toward her sister, the ghost of his touch still burning on her wrist. She could feel hiseyes following her across the room, a physical weight between her shoulder blades that made her hyper-aware of how she moved through the space.
Jane looked up as Libby approached, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "There you are. I was thinking of heading home early."
"Everything okay?" Libby asked, instantly alert to the subtle strain in her sister's voice.
"Just tired," Jane replied unconvincingly. "Long day of treatments before the game."
"What's really going on?" Libby asked. "And don't say 'nothing' because your professional calm face has cracks showing."
Jane hesitated, glancing around to ensure privacy. "Not here," she said quietly. "Let's step outside for a minute."
The night air was cool against Libby's skin as they slipped onto the sports bar's small side patio, currently deserted as most patrons preferred the warmth inside. Jane leaned against the stone railing, her usual perfect posture momentarily abandoned.
"Chase ended things between us," she said, her voice quiet but steady.
Libby stared at her. "Ended things? But I thought you two were finally moving forward."
Jane sighed softly. "After he canceled our dinner date with a last-minute 'film session' excuse two nights ago, I thought it was just playoff scheduling. But yesterday morning, he pulled me aside and said we need to 'maintain appropriate boundaries.' That pursuing anything personal during playoffs would be inadvisable."
"That makes zero sense," Libby said, anger rising on her sister's behalf. "He's been practically radiating hearts and flowers around you for weeks. Did he say why?"
Jane looked down at her hands. "He just kept talking about professionalism and team dynamics," she said miserably. "Something about how it wouldn't be appropriate given our positions—assistant coach and medical staff."
Libby's mind instantly flashed to Liam's evasive response about Chase's absence tonight. The familiar language—boundaries, professionalism, team dynamics. She'd heard the same before, from every press conference she'd attended since covering the Steel. The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity.
"Liam," she said under her breath, not a question but a realization. Something cold settled in her stomach.
"What?" Jane looked up, genuinely confused.
"Nothing," Libby replied quickly. She wouldn't burden Jane with her suspicions until she was certain. "I'm just trying to make sense of Chase's sudden change of heart."
"That's just it—I must have misread the situation," Jane said, her eyes reflecting genuine bewilderment. "I thought he was interested, but clearly I was projecting. From the beginning, he's always been friendly and professional. I'm the one who interpreted it as something more."
Libby felt anger rising in her chest—at Chase for hurting Jane, but mostly at Liam for what she was increasingly certain was his interference. "I'm so sorry, Jane," she said, focusing on her sister's feelings rather than her own building rage.
"Maybe he's right," Jane said with forced reasonableness that broke Libby's heart. "The timing is complicated. The team is facing Montreal in the conference finals. Professional focus should be the priority."
