“Good.”
I stand, take my cup to the bin, and head toward the door, the late morning sun spilling through the café windows—Liam’s right behind me.
When we step outside, I turn to say goodbye, and for some absurd reason, I hold out my hand like this is a business meeting instead of a reunion that’s turned my whole body inside out.
He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my heart race, then he takes my hand. There is so much happening inside of me that takes away my defense.
And then he leans in.
There’s no hesitation; he kisses me as he means it. It’s not the wild, horny, drunk-kissing from outside the club. This is a long, deep, lingering kiss and has me on my tiptoes, sighing, and ready to weep for how good it is.
When he pulls away, someone whistles at us, and I can’t possibly blush any deeper than I already have. He bites his lip mischievously.
“See you soon, Emma.”
He turns and walks away, and I say, out loud to nobody, “Oh shit. This is gonna be trouble.”
14
LIAM
The team’son 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 flyingout 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.
