Chapter 53 WON
Ava Reed
The second I saw him go down, my heart stopped.
One minute, Liam was weaving through defenders, fast as ever, with a laser sharp focus, determined, and unstoppable. The next, some asshole from the other team rammed straight into his knee, his bad knee.
What the fuck!
I shot up from my seat on the sidelines, my stomach twisting into knots as he collapsed onto the field, his face squeezed in pain.
The ref’s whistle blew and the crowd gasped. The entire stadium fell into tense silence.
Get up. Please, baby, get up. I pled silently, holding my breath. I barely heard the coach barking orders. My pulse was too loud, pounding in my ears, my body frozen in place.
Then, slowly, Liam moved.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding as he gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright and limped back into position.
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to run onto the field and tell him to sit his dumb ass down before he made it worse. But I knew him and I knew there was no way in hell he was sitting this one out.
So, I clenched my fists and did the only thing I could do. I watched and despite the pain, despite the cheap shot, Liam Carter fucking dominated.
He played through it, pushing past the pain, moving like the injury never happened. His teammates rallied around him, feeding off his energy, fighting harder than ever.
And when that final whistle blew, and the scoreboard flashed victory, the entire stadium erupted in roars.
We won. Liam fucking won.
I did not know what made me prouder, how he searched the crowed for me or how he didn’t let anything stop him.
The moment he turned toward me, his face drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, I was already moving.
I dodged through the crowd, through his celebrating teammates, straight to him.
“Snowflakes”
I didn’t let him finish. I crashed into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding onto him like he was the only thing that mattered.
He groaned, but his arms circled my waist anyway, his grip strong despite the obvious pain.
“You fucking idiot,” I whispered against his shoulder, my voice shaky with relief. “I hate you.”
He let out a breathless chuckle. “Love you too, baby.” He whispered back into my ear
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands cupping his face. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark with exhaustion, but he was here.
“Come on, champ. Let’s get you patched up.” I shook my head.
He didn’t argue. He just let me take his hand and lead him off the field, through the tunnel, straight into the med room.
I sat him down on the exam table and immediately got to work, rolling up his shorts to examine his knee. It was already starting to swell.
“How bad?” he asked, watching me carefully.
I sighed. “You’re gonna be sore as hell, but it doesn’t feel like anything’s torn.” I pressed gently, testing the joint, and he hissed through his teeth.
“I’m fine, baby.” His eyes locked onto mine, like he could see the worry in my eyes
“I swear to God, Liam…”
“Aw, look at that,” a mocking voice drawled from the doorway.
I froze as Liam’s entire body went rigid.
Slowly, I turned toward the sound, my jaw already tightening as I took in the absolute prick standing there.
Number 17. The same guy who cheap-shotted Liam. The same motherfucker who almost ruined everything.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin plastered across his face. “Didn’t think you’d finish the game after that hit, Carter. Guess I should’ve gone harder.”
The audacity.
Liam moved to stand, but I was already on my feet, and before I even thought about it, I was marching across the room, my blood boiling, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.
Number 17 barely had time to react before my fist collided with his stupid face.
His head snapped to the side, a stunned grunt leaving his lips.
The room went dead silent.
And before the dumbass could even process what just happened, I slapped him.
Hard. His head jerked the other way, his eyes wide with shock.
“One,” I hissed, my voice dripping with fury. “For fucking with my patient.”
He barely blinked before I slapped him again.
“Two,” I snapped. “For almost ruining my boyfriend’s game.”
Liam made a strangled noise behind me, like he was torn between being proud as hell and completely stunned.
Number 17 stumbled back, holding his jaw, staring at me like he just realized he’d fucked up.
I glared up at him, my chest heaving, my hands still tingling from the impact. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
For once in his miserable existence, the asshole listened.
He scowled but didn’t say a word as he turned and stalked off.
The second he was gone, I let out a sharp breath, my hands dropping to my sides, the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins.
Behind me, Liam let out a low whistle.
I turned to find him smirking, amusement dancing in his tired eyes.
“My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heart fluttered at the word. “Don’t start.”
“You punched a guy for me.” He just grinned.
“He deserved it.” I crossed my arms.
Liam’s gaze softened. “Yeah, he did.”
“You need ice. And rest, I’ll…” I say, running a hand through my hair.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me between his legs, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“I need you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine.
I exhaled, my body melting against him as usual.
“You scared me, Liam,” I admitted softly.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “No more pushing your limits. No more reckless decisions. Got it?”
He studied me for a long moment before nodding. “Got it.”
“Liam.” I narrowed my eyes.
“I got it, Doc.” He chuckled.
I huffed but let it slide, knowing I’d won this round.
Then, without another word, I pressed a kiss to his forehead and went back to tending to my reckless, infuriating, stupidly hot boyfriend.
And he let me.