Chapter 48 Pissed
AVA REED
I stormed into the house, slamming the door behind me harder than I intended. My blood was still boiling from practice, from him. The echo of the impact bounced through the hallway, sharp and dramatic, but it still didn’t match the chaos inside my chest. The most infuriating, stubborn, impossible man on the planet.
The air inside the house felt too warm, too still, like it hadn’t been prepared for the kind of argument we’d just had.
I ripped my hoodie off, tossing it onto the couch as I paced the living room
Back and forth. Back and forth. Like if I walked enough steps, I’d somehow walk the frustration out of my system.
“Liam, you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to take a break.”
His jaw had tightened immediately when I said it. Like I’d insulted him instead of worried about him.
“I don’t need a break, Snowflakes. I need to be ready.”
"You’re going to hurt yourself again"
The words had come out sharper than I meant them to. Not accusatory. Just terrified.
He had just looked at me, jaw clenched, eyes dark.
That look. The one that said he’d already made up his mind and nothing I said was going to change it.
“I know my body. I know what I can handle.”
Was he serious? So me, his psychotherapist for months now, don’t know his body? After all the sessions, the rehab, the setbacks, the nights he’d admitted he was scared of losing everything? He just shut me out, ignored my concern, walked away without another word, leaving me standing there, furious and helpless.
Helpless was the worst part.
I let out a frustrated groan, running my fingers through my hair as I collapsed onto the couch. I hated this. Hated feeling like I was talking to a brick wall. Hated that he was so damn stubborn, so determined to prove he could handle everything alone.
Like needing someone made him weak.
And what I hated most?
That even after all of that, I still wanted him.
Still ached for him.
Still loved him.
The realization settled heavy in my chest, equal parts comfort and curse.
After walking to his room, hes back and standing in the living room again. My pulse spiked.
I hadn’t even heard him come back out. One second I was alone with my thoughts, the next he was there, filling the space like he always did.
I could see the frustration still burning in him, just like mine was in me. He didn’t like fighting with me, but he wasn’t about to apologize either. Neither was I.
We stared at each other in silence.
The kind that buzzed.
Then he exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face before shaking his head.
“Snowflakes…”
That nickname almost broke me. It always did.
“No,” I cut him off, standing up. “I don’t want to talk.”
Because if we talked, I might cry. And I refused to cry over this.
“Too bad,” he shot back. “Because we are talking.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “About what, Liam? About how you refuse to listen? About how you don’t trust me to help you?”
The words landed between us like a dropped weight.
“That’s not what this is about.” His jaw ticked.
“Then what is it about?”
“I need to be at my best!” he burst out, stepping toward me. “And I can’t do that if I start pulling back every time you tell me I should. I can’t lose this next match, don’t you get it? I can't have people thinking my last win got into my head so much, I didn’t focus.”
There it was.
Not arrogance.
Fear.
“You’re not pulling back, Liam. You’re pushing too hard.” My breath hitched, but I didn’t back down.
Because if I backed down now, he’d never take me seriously.
He shook his head, exasperated, but I wasn’t done.
“I get it, okay?” I continued, stepping closer. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “I get that hockey is everything to you. That this game means everything to you. I know that one win means you have to win better than the last. But I’m not just some random physiotherapist giving you orders, I care about you. And you’re going to destroy yourself if you don’t start listening to me.”
The words trembled at the end, betraying how much this mattered.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing heavier now, his eyes burning into mine.
The air between us was thick, charged.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us backed down.
The fight wasn’t about hockey anymore. It was about control. About fear. About how much we both had to lose.
Then, suddenly, Liam let out a rough curse under his breath, and before I could react, his hands were in my hair, and his lips were on mine.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t patient. It was all the words we didn’t know how to say.
I gasped, but it was swallowed instantly as his mouth took me apart. Rough. Desperate. Demanding.
My hands found his shoulders, nails digging in as he backed me up until my spine hit the wall.
I could still feel the tension vibrating in him, but it was tangled with something else now…something hotter, darker.
Like anger had melted into need.
I pulled back just enough to breathe, my lips tingling, my body trembling.
“We’re supposed to be fighting.”
Liam’s lips brushed against mine as he let out a dark chuckle. “We are.”
Because this was how we fought. With heat. With stubbornness. With hands that refused to let go.
And then his hands were on my waist, lifting me, my legs wrapping around his hips as he carried me through the house.
Every step up the stairs felt like a surrender neither of us would admit to.
“Do you promise to take it easy?’ I ask as he took us up
Even now, even like this, I needed to hear it.
“I do, Snowflakes”
His voice was lower this time. Not defensive. Not sharp. Just steady.
And with that, we went straight to his bedroom.
The argument wasn’t over.
But neither was us.