The puppy just yawns and curls back into the pile.
I grab my gear bag, double-check that I have everything I need, and head out. But for the first time, hockey isn't the only thing I'm thinking about.
I'm thinking about Avery watching me play. I'm thinking about proving to her that I can be serious, that I can commit, that I'm worth taking a chance on.
I'm thinking about building something real with her.
The old Liam would have been planning his next conquest by now, already bored with the woman who just left. But as I drive to the arena, all I can think about is when I'll see Avery again.
When I can make her laugh. When I can kiss her. When I can prove that I'm not the guy she thinks I am.
Or maybe I'll prove that I can be better than that guy.
Either way, I'm all in.
Even if she's not ready to be all in with me yet.
15
Avery
I sit across from Jennifer in her office, spine straight, hands folded in my lap, every inch the composed professional. Never mind that I got maybe three hours of sleep. Never mind that I can still feel Liam's hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his weight pressing me into his mattress.
Never mind that my entire carefully constructed world is now a hot mess. If Sadie could see me now. I’m sleeping with a client, racing across Manhattan in a panic, spending the night in his bed. She wouldn't recognize me. I barely recognize myself.
“The Lamborghini story is everywhere,” Jennifer says, her tablet turned toward me, showing a cascade of headlines. “Some outlets are questioning his mental state.”
I force myself to look at the screen, at the photos of the mangled Lamborghini that made my heart stop last night. “I've seen the coverage.”
“This is exactly the kind of impulsive behavior we hired you to prevent, Avery.” Jennifer's voice isn't accusing, but it's pointed. “We brought you on to clean up his image, to show he's maturing. And then he goes and does this.”
Because I hurt him. Because I pushed him away, and he didn't know what else to do with the pain. Because people don't make good decisions when they're hurting.
But I can't say any of that. So I say what I can. “The accident wasn't his fault. The other driver ran a red light. Liam was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That may be true, but Avery, why is it always Liam in the gossip columns? What triggers him? Did something happen after the media day?”
My throat tightens. “Athletes make impulsive decisions sometimes. The important thing is managing the narrative going forward.”
“You've been working closely with him.” Jennifer's gaze is assessing. “How is his mental state? Is there something we should be concerned about?”
I keep my expression neutral, professional. “He's fine and focused on tonight's game. I spoke with him this morning, and he's cleared to play. I'll be monitoring the situation closely.”
“The board is watching this closely, too,” Jennifer says, a warning tone in her voice. “If Liam continues to be a PR liability, they may reconsider the budget we've allocated to crisis management. Which means your contract could be in jeopardy.”
Ice floods my veins. “I understand,” I manage. “I've already drafted a statement about the accident.”
I pull up the document on my tablet and turn it toward her. She reads it silently, her expression giving nothing away.
Last evening, Liam Novak was involved in a motor vehicle accident when another driver ran a red light, causing a collision. Liam was evaluated at the hospital as a precaution and has been cleared by team physicians to play in tonight's game against Detroit. He is grateful for the support of fans and teammates during this time. The New York Renegadesorganization asks for privacy as the police investigation continues.
Jennifer nods slowly. “This is good. Factual, doesn't address the car purchase, emphasizes that he's fine and ready to play.” She looks up at me. “Get this out within the hour. And Avery? Stay close tonight in case the media asks questions.”
“Of course.”
“One more thing,” Jennifer says as I stand up. “Are you alright? You look exhausted.”
The concern in her voice makes guilt twist in my stomach. “I'm fine. Just a long night managing the crisis.”
