Chapter 13 Disaster
Liam Carter
I could feel the tension in my muscles the second I stepped onto the ice. The arena lights were harsh, bouncing off the freshly smoothed rink, but I barely noticed. My focus was on the puck in front of me, the weight of my stick in my grip, and the frustration buzzing under my skin.
Practice had been going for over an hour, but I still wasn’t getting it right. My body was betraying me. My movements weren’t as sharp as they used to be and the deep ache in my leg reminded me of what I’d lost. The injury had taken its toll, but I refused to let it win. I clenched my jaw, narrowing my eyes at the puck. I was going to nail this move, no matter what.
I skated forward, fast, trying to shift my weight as I lined up for a tight turn into a deke. The move should have been second nature. My body should have followed through smoothly, but as soon as I twisted my knee, fire shot through my thigh, and I faltered. My balance wavered, and I barely caught myself before crashing into the boards.
"Goddammit!" I slammed my stick onto the ice, the sharp sound echoing through the empty arena.
"Liam!" Coach's voice thundered from the bench. "You’re pushing too hard! You’re not ready yet. You need to ease back in!"
I ignored him, shaking out my leg, trying to numb the throbbing. I wasn’t some rookie who needed to be coddled. I had spent years perfecting my skill, carving my name into this game, and I wasn’t about to let a stupid injury dictate my future. I lined up again, gripping my stick tighter, forcing the pain into the back of my mind.
"Liam!" Coach barked again, but I didn’t listen.
I shot forward, determined to get it right this time. My skates cut into the ice, my shoulders tightening as I prepped for the maneuver. I dipped low, shifted my weight and…
Sharp pain exploded up my leg. My knee buckled, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the ice, my stick flying from my grip. My teammates skated over, exchanging cautious glances, but no one dared say a word.
I could feel their eyes on me, judging, waiting, pitying. It made my skin crawl.
I pushed myself up, my breath ragged. My heart hammered against my ribs, frustration swelling until it boiled over. With a growl, I grabbed my stick and hurled it across the rink. It hit the boards with a loud crack, and the sound was oddly satisfying.
"Enough!" I roared, "Stop looking at me like that! Like I’m fucking broken!"
Silence hung thick in the air. Even Coach didn’t say anything.
My breathing was uneven, with my pulse thrumming in my ears. I needed to get out of here before I did something I would regret. I turned on my heel, storming off the ice and heading straight for the locker room.
I slammed the door shut behind me, bracing my hands on the sink and staring at my reflection. My jaw was clenched, my hair damp with sweat, my body still vibrating with all that rage.
This wasn’t who I was.
I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to regain some sense of control. And then, for some stupid reason, I thought of her.
Ava.
The girl who had looked so lost that night, yet so free at the same time. The way she had laughed, the way she had clapped back at every dirty thing I said, the way she had melted under my touch but never let me have all the power. She was reckless and impulsive, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Take the messy options till you find your place in this world.
I had told her that, hadn’t I? And I had seen something shift in her gaze, like she had finally found something that made sense. And now, here I was, drowning in my own mess, not taking my own damn advice.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. Maybe it was time to stop fighting this so hard. Maybe I needed to take the help being handed to me.
With renewed purpose, I grabbed a water bottle and took a deep swig before marching out of the locker room. I didn’t stop until I reached Coach’s office. He was sitting behind his desk, scribbling on a clipboard when I knocked once and stepped inside.
He glanced up, brows raised. "You finally gonna listen?"
"I’ll take the live-in physiotherapist." I swallowed my pride and nodded.
Coach's lips twitched like he was holding back a smirk. "Good. Because I found one already." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "My daughter."
His words barely had time to sink in before the door behind me opened. I turned around just as Ava walked in, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, eyes scanning the room before landing on me.
The exact moment recognition hit her, I took a sip of water and promptly choked.
Water sprayed from my mouth, and I coughed violently, my mind short-circuiting. Ava's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock.
"Oh, fuck no." She gaped at me, then turned to her father. "Tell me you're joking."
Coach looked between us, his brows knitting together. "You two know each other?"
Ava crossed her arms, glaring at me like I was her worst nightmare. And honestly? Right now, she might have been mine, too.
I wiped my mouth, still wheezing slightly. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
"I hate this universe." she groaned, rubbing her temples.
Coach frowned. "I don’t see the problem. Ava’s the physiotherapist I could trust, and you need the that. So unless you’d rather stay injured…”
I groaned, running a hand down my face. "Fine." I cut him off, exhaling sharply. "I’ll do it."
Ava let out an exasperated laugh, muttering something under her breath before fixing me with a glare. "Don’t make this difficult."
"Oh, sweetheart." I smirked, recovering from the initial shock. "You have no idea how difficult I can be."
Ava rolled her eyes and looked at her dad. "I need a raise."
"This is gonna be a disaster." Coach sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He wasn’t wrong.