Page 80 of Pressure Point

“Says the girl who thought she could use one guy to teach her how to be sexy for another. When I outright told her the guy she should be trying to be sexy for was the first one,” Hazel tossed back. Avery started to respond but stopped herself. Her best friend had told her that she thought Liam was the better guy for her. The one who would see her for who she is. Hazel had been right. Avery had just been too blinded by Dash’s chiseled features to see what was right in front of her. “So, now that your wild idea has backfired, we’re going with mine.”

“I vote for Hazel’s idea,” Talia said. “I think it’s perfect.”

“You’re going to have to help me pull it off.”

“Gladly.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The buzz inside Bunz was electric, there was no doubt about that. Liam couldn’t recall a time that the place had been this busy, even after a game. People were crammed into booths and around tables, all waiting for the Atlanta Rising player auction to start. A stage was set up in front of the floor-to-ceiling screen that was currently tuned to a Braves game. Looking to his left, he saw the curtained-off area on the far side of the bar where he was supposed to report.

Liam sucked in a breath, glancing around one last time, unable to believe the number of excited fans. The city had taken to their team like nothing he’d ever seen, and that was a thrilling feeling. He just wished he were feeling good enough to actually enjoy the energy, rather than feel like it was sucking the life out of him. Not that there was much left.

His head was pounding, just not with the typical hangover. This was from a lack of sleep. No matter what he did last night, he tossed and turned, his mind filled with images of Avery and Dash. He wanted so badly to forget, but he couldn’t. Like a bad movie, the sequence of Dash pulling her close, his hand sliding down her back and his head tilting toward her for a kiss, played over and over. As did her words.

“It’s not what you think…he didn’t kiss me…what if what I want has changed?”

He wanted to believe it. He wanted more than anything for her to have changed her mind. He thought she had—let himself believe that all those kisses and stolen moments had meant something. That she was his. Really his. Not just pretending as part of her plan to win over someone else.

That was the kicker though. Her ending up with Dash had always been the plan. Liam had known from the get-go that this was what she wanted. That the events of last night had been the objective. There was always the possibility that it was going to end this way. Why he had convinced himself otherwise and let himself go down the road of thinking that Avery would choose him he’d never know. He’d brought this on himself.

Understanding that didn’t make it hurt any less in this moment though. Especially knowing that the next part of her plan was to bid on Dash this afternoon. And that he was going to have to watch it.

He needed a drink.

Making his way to the bar, he found Gunnar wrapped around Felicity, talking with Talia. She was busy trying to pour a couple of beers, rolling her eyes at something one of her “parents” had said.

“No players. We've talked about this,” Gunnar said, his voice in that faux serious tone he got, as he pointed his finger at his daughter. Talia let out a huff of annoyance, turning off the beer tap, as Felicity bit back a giggle.

“Yeah, we’re bad news,” Liam added, finishing Gunnar’s overused warning, sliding onto a bar stool. No part of him felt like joking around, but he knew he needed to try to fake it.

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asked, her face serious.

“Nothing."

“You sure?” Gunnar asked, stepping closer to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you this upset since…”

“Paddy and Orla’s wedding?” Liam snarked. Maybe talking to Gunnar right now wasn’t such a good idea. He knew his coach would want to help, but talking about his feelings here and now was not going to solve anything. “Yeah, feels about the same.”

Without another word, he slid off the stool and turned to head toward the player staging area.

Reminding himself to breathe, Liam tried to push the hurt away, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t quite the same as the heavy pain in the pit of his stomach that he’d felt watching his brother marry the girl he’d spent eight years with, but it was close. No, scratch that, this was worse. What had happened with Orla stung, and it was embarrassing, not to mention uncomfortable on a number of different levels. Knowing you had not just slept with, but deflowered, the woman who was now carrying your niece or nephew was weird, but something he knew he would be able to get past with time and distance. Hell, he was already more at ease with the situation than he had been when he’d left Ireland. What he was feeling now, though, was something else entirely.

This was a deep, raw ache. One that he was feeling throughout his whole body. Every inch of him missed every inch of her. His feelings for Avery were real and intense. Walking away from Orla had been easy. Walking away from Avery had about killed him.

Silently slipping behind the curtain, he found most of his team standing around, drinks in hand, chatting like the world wasn’t ending. Then he remembered, theirs wasn’t. Only his.

And it was still his own damn fault.

“How ya doing, dude?” Elliot asked.

“Fine.”

“It’s cool if you’re not. We get it,” Chance added. “If the girl I loved kissed one of you lot, I don’t know that I’d want to be anywhere near you.”

“I don’t lo—” Liam stopped midsentence. That was a lie. He did love her.

He loved everything about Avery. He loved how she rambled when she was nervous and had a weird little way of owning her awkwardness—even if she didn’t realize it. He loved her laugh, how she was always willing to share her food, and how protective she was over each and every player on this team. He loved those cute little moans she let out when she took a bite of something she thought was extra delicious and the sweet little cooing sounds she made when she slept. And that little body of hers that she was so self-conscious about? He loved every damn inch of that too.