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“No, it’smyproblem,” I said, pointing my thumb at my chest. “But you have to help me get over this, Liv. The only way I can think to do that, is for you not to be here. For me not to see you.”
“This is my job, Dillon!”
“No, Liv,” I said gently. “This ismyjob. And if I’m not here, mentally and physically, we have no shot of making the playoffs. No chance at the Stanley Cup. Everyone in the organization suffers then.”
“And that’s all that matters to you?” she asked, crossing her arms tight across her chest.
It had to be, right? It was all that had mattered to me for the past ten years. Wins. Playoffs. Championships. MVPs. Records. All of it. All the glory I could suck out of the sport.
I wasThe Heart.
The Captain.
I needed to act like it.
I knew what she was asking. The question behind the question.
Do you care about me at all?
“It is,” I said. “It is all that matters to me.”
My words landed like a ton of bricks in her tiny office. Her father in that picture shot daggers into my face.
“You’ll get another job. If not Montreal, then something else. You’re good, Liv. You could easily become the best skating coach in the NHL.”
“Yet you’re asking me to leave? How is that good for the team, Dillon?”
“It’s not. It’s good for me though. And I’m their captain.”
Her eyes were cold hard flint. The color of a sword. She was right too, she would be an asset to any team she worked with, ours included. But I was a selfish prick with no self-control when it came to her and this was breaking my goddamn heart.
“It’s killing me.”
All that anger melted from her face and she let out a long hard sigh, her shoulders slumping.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s killing me, too.”
“Liv,” I breathed, and opened my arms to her, praying she’d take me up on the invitation and hug me. Press her body to mine, warm me back up.
There was another knock on the door and we both jumped apart just as Novek walked in.
He had his bag around his chest and he wore a black puffer coat with the word Prada all over it.
“Do all your clothes have designer names on them?” I asked him, irrationally pissed at that coat.
“Do all of your clothes come from Costco?” he shot back, and…well… I liked the Costco brand athletic shorts. Sue me. Sometimes when I went in for steaks and protein powder, I grabbed shorts and a few t-shirts.
Novek grinned at me like he was just taking the piss.
“What are you doing down here with Coach?” he asked. “Trying to get some private training?”
He made it sound filthy without even trying. Or maybe that was me? Inferring filth because I wanted so badly to touch her again. “Nope,” I said. “Asking Coach Tyler-Branch about Montreal.”
“So that’s true?” Novek asked.
“It’s just a request for an interview,” Liv said, sitting back down behind her desk. “Now, what can I help you two with?”
“Well,” Novek grinned. “Cap here needs some help with his left hook.”
