Chapter 61 Date
LIAM
The silence in the car stretched between us like a chasm, wide and unyielding, something you could fall into and never quite climb out of. Ava sat beside me, hands twisted in her lap, fingers knotting together like she was trying to physically hold herself together. Her lips were pressed tight, pale from the pressure, like if she loosened them even a little something fragile would spill out.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles blanched. My jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it. I didn’t trust myself to speak yet. Not when my pulse was still hammering from the showdown in her father’s office. Not when the image of her standing in that doorway, eyes glossy and shattered, kept replaying in my head like a scene I couldn’t pause.
I knew Coach was a jackass sometimes. I knew he bulldozed first and reflected later. I even knew that buried under all that control and ego was a man who believed he was protecting something.
But this?
This was crossing a line.
He didn’t just question me. He didn’t just challenge my focus.
He hurt her.
And that did something ugly to me. Something dark and coiled. Something that didn’t care about contracts or championships.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually, her voice so soft it barely cut through the hum of the road.
That did it.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, long and controlled, like I was bleeding the anger out one breath at a time. I reached for my phone without looking at her and dialed Jensen.
He picked up on the first ring. “Yo, Carter, what’s up?”
“I’m not coming to practice this weekend,” I said flatly.
A beat of silence. “Wait, what?”
“I won’t be there. Handle it.”
Another pause, longer this time. I could practically hear him recalculating the universe. “Fine,” he muttered. “But you’re in Coach’s mess when you get back.”
I almost laughed.
I was already in Coach’s mess.
I ended the call without another word.
Ava shifted beside me. I could feel her confusion like heat radiating off her skin. “Why would you do that?” she asked softly.
I turned my head and met her eyes for the first time since we’d walked out of that house. They were still rimmed red. Still glossy. My chest tightened.
“You never have to be sorry for things you didn’t do, Snowflakes,” I said evenly. “You never have to be sorry to me. Even.”
She blinked like the words caught her off guard. Like she’d been bracing for anger and found something else instead.
She didn’t understand why I’d just skipped practice. Why I’d thrown more gasoline on the fire. But I wasn’t about to explain that right now. I wasn’t about to tell her that if Coach thought I needed distance from her, I was about to do the exact opposite.
I started the car and pulled out of her parents’ driveway.
The ride home was quiet again, but this time it wasn’t suffocating. It was different. Thick, yes, but steady. Like we were both absorbing what had happened, letting it settle into our bones.
When we pulled into my driveway, I shut off the engine and turned to her.
“Pack a bag.”
She frowned. “What?”
I pulled the keys from the ignition and faced her fully. “For the weekend. Pack a bag.”
“Liam, I…” Her brows drew together. “You don’t have to—”
“Not up for debate.” My tone was calm, not harsh. Just firm. “You need to get out of here for a bit. And I need you to come with me.”
She searched my face, trying to decode the angle, the hidden meaning. There wasn’t one. I just needed her somewhere quiet. Somewhere untouched by locker rooms and threats and power plays.
When she didn’t move, I arched a brow. “Ava.”
She sighed dramatically, but there was no real fight in it. “Fine.”
I watched her climb out of the car and head inside. I waited until she disappeared down the hallway before pulling out my phone again.
The line rang once.
“Well, well, well,” came the smooth, amused voice on the other end. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m coming over this weekend,” I said.
A pause. Then a low chuckle. “Interesting. And here I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
I ignored that. “Need the place ready.”
“It always is.”
I ended the call and leaned back in my seat, rubbing a hand over my jaw. This wasn’t spontaneous. Not entirely. I’d kept this place in my back pocket for moments exactly like this. When the world got too loud. When expectations started sounding like orders.
When I needed to remind myself what mattered.
A few hours later, I watched her step out of the car in front of the lodge.
The place sat tucked between towering pines, wrapped in quiet like it was a secret the mountains were keeping. The air was crisp, clean. No city noise. No reporters. No stadium lights. Just the sound of wind weaving through trees and the faint creak of wood as the porch settled.
Ava stared at it, eyes wide.
Her fingers brushed the wooden railing of the wraparound porch as she walked up the steps, like she needed to confirm it was real.
“It’s… yours?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.”
She glanced back at me, something unreadable flickering across her face. Not suspicion. Not doubt.
Relief.
Inside, the lodge smelled like cedar and warmth. A stone fireplace dominated the living room, and wide windows framed nothing but forest.
She set her bag down just inside the door and turned toward me. “So… what now?”
I stepped closer, resting a hand on her hip. The contact felt grounding. Necessary.
“Now, you go get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Out?” she blinked. “Out where?”
“On a date,” I said with a small smirk.
Her lips parted slightly. “A date,” she repeated, like the word itself was foreign.
“Yeah, Snowflakes. A date. Dinner. Talking. Maybe a little dancing if you’re up for it.”
“You dance?” she scoffed.
“Only when it’s worth it.” I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make her swallow.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, betraying her composure. There it was. That spark.
Before she could overthink it, I stepped back. “Go get ready. Wear something that’ll make me regret taking you anywhere public.”
She huffed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips as she disappeared down the hall.
When the bedroom door shut, I let out a slow breath.
I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to confirm the reservation. The restaurant wasn’t flashy, but it was intimate. Candlelight. Soft music. No cameras.
I caught my reflection in the dark window and dragged a hand through my hair.
I should be nervous.
Maybe I was.
Because this wasn’t just about distracting her from what happened. It wasn’t about proving her father wrong. It wasn’t about rebellion.
It was about showing her that she wasn’t something I had to sacrifice to succeed.
That she wasn’t collateral damage in my ambition.
That when I said I loved her, it wasn’t conditional.
The bedroom door opened, and I turned.
For a second, I just stared.
She stepped into the living room wearing a dress that hugged her in all the right ways, simple but devastating. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. She looked unsure for half a heartbeat.
Then she met my eyes.
And whatever doubt had been clinging to her since that office began to crack.
I crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of her. “You look…” I shook my head once. “Yeah. I’m definitely going to regret this.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. A real one.
I offered her my hand.
“Come on,” I said quietly. “Let me take you on a date.”
Because tonight wasn’t about Coach.
It wasn’t about contracts.
It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else.
It was about her.
And I’d be damned if I didn’t make sure she felt that in every second of it.