"Liam," she breathed.
He came inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it, his eyes dark as he loomed in his wool coat.
Libby shook her head, trying to make sense of it. "How are you here? You can't be here. You're in Montreal."
"I'm here," Liam said as he took off his coat. His voice shifted, protective and angry—not at her. "Now tell me why you thought Middleton would be at your door at 3 a.m.”
"It's nothing... But Liam, what about Game 4? You can't be here."
"I'm aware of my schedule." His jaw was tight. "Your seat was empty."
Her eyes had adjusted to the faint light now, and she could see his gaze roam over her face, searching. "Georgia updatedme," he said, his voice dropping. "This is my fault. My history with him..."
"Georgia told me. The lawyers... Liam, you didn't have to?—"
"He won't hurt another person I care about."
The words hung in the air. Another person he cared about.
The flickering warmth in her chest since he'd arrived spread into a steady glow. I care about you too, she wanted to say. It took everything she had not to close the distance between them, to let herself believe this moment was real.
Instead, she turned toward the tidy kitchen. "Would you like some coffee? I can't sleep anyway."
"Coffee would be appreciated," Liam said. "It's been a long day."
As Libby made coffee, she was hyperaware of Liam in the space behind her. He hadn't just flown back; he'd come here, to this apartment, in the middle of the night. He'd clearly left the post-game obligations as quickly as possible—his suit sleeves were rolled up, his collar undone, his tie long gone. He looked exhausted and rumpled and somehow more real than she'd ever seen him .
He leaned against the opposite counter, a large, solid presence in the small room. The silence was thick, broken only by the drip of the coffeemaker.
"Georgia updated me on the legal side," he said, his voice quiet. "Jane's suspension will be reversed. The lawyers are filing for fraud and impersonation charges against Wickham."
Libby's hands tightened on the mug she was holding. "That's... that's incredible news for Jane, Liam, but... it's worse than that right now."
His head came up, his gaze sharpening. "What do you mean, worse?"
"Lydia," Libby said, her voice trembling. "She's not at my parents' house. She's gone. She left a note... she left with him ."
The exhaustion vanished from Liam's face, replaced by that cold, terrifying focus she'd seen him use on the ice. He set his cup down and pushed off the counter in one fluid motion.
"She's with Wickham? Where?"
"We don't know. The note just said he was going to 'fix everything' and make her famous. She took her suitcase. She took her passport ."
"I knew," Libby whispered, the guilt she'd been holding back all day finally breaking through. "You told me what he was like. You told me exactly what he did to Georgia ." Her eyes stung. "I sat there at dinner, heard her say his name, and after you left... I did nothing ."
"Libby, you couldn't have known?—"
"I should have!" she insisted, the shame flooding her. "But I was so... I was so angry at you for leaving. I was so wrapped up in why you'd gone cold, in what Kate said, in whether I was just some temporary 'rebellion'. I was so focused on my ESPN interview and proving I didn't need this world , that I never once... I never once stopped to think about what danger she was in. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I let him get his hands on my sister. And now she's gone."
Liam closed the distance between them in two strides. His hand came up, gently but firmly cupping her jaw, his thumb stroking softly against her cheekbone, making her look at him. His eyes weren't just intense; they reflected her own pain, mirroring the heartbreak and fear she felt. The touch was tender, a stark contrast to the ice and fury simmering beneath the surface.
"Libby." His voice was low, a command softened by the raw emotion in his gaze. "Look at me."
She forced herself to meet his eyes, trapped by his touch, by the shared devastation reflected there.
"This is not your fault," he said, his voice a low, hard command, though his thumb continued its gentle stroke against her skin. "This is his. This is what he does. He finds a vulnerability and he exploits it. He did it to Georgia , and now he's using Lydia to hurt you, all because of me." He paused, his jaw working. "This stops. Now."
"But... the team..." Libby said, her voice small.
