Chapter 59 Distraction
LIAM
I should’ve known this was coming from the moment Coach called me into his study. His face turned unreadable, but his posture stayed stiff as hell. Shoulders locked. Chin lifted. Not angry. Not explosive. Just controlled. And that kind of control was always worse.
I knew. I fucking knew.
The second he shut the door behind me, the second the latch clicked into place, it felt like I’d stepped into a different arena. No crowd. No noise. Just judgment waiting to be handed down.
The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the old ceiling fan. It rotates lazily, slicing through air that feels too thick to move through properly. The air smells like cigar smoke and old books, years of strategy and late-night film sessions soaked into the walls. But beneath it, I swear I can smell the tension. Heavy. Suffocating. Pressing down on my chest like extra weight I didn’t sign up to carry.
Coach leaned against his desk with his arms crossed, just staring at me. Measuring. Assessing. Of course… I returned the favor as usual. If this was going to be a standoff, I wasn’t blinking first.
His eyes didn’t soften. Didn’t flicker. They just stayed locked on mine like he was waiting for me to confess to something I hadn’t even said yet.
“Break up with Ava.” He finally says
No preface. No build-up. Just straight to the jugular.
For a split second, something inside me stills. Not shock. Not confusion. Just confirmation.
“Yeah, figured this was coming.” I exhale sharply, my jaw tightening.
Coach doesn’t react. Not even a twitch. He just watches me like I’m a puzzle he had already solved. Like my answer won’t change a damn thing. Like this conversation is a formality.
“You don’t need a relationship right now, Carter.” His voice is calm, steady, almost patient. Like he’s explaining something obvious. Like this is supposed to make perfect sense to me. “Your career is about to take off. You don’t need distractions.”
Distractions.
The word lands wrong.
What was wrong with the world and assuming she was a distraction in my life for fuck sake? We could be married, and that still won't distract me! If anything, she’s the reason I lace up tighter. The reason I push harder. The reason losing isn’t an option anymore.
“Ava isn’t a distraction.” I let out a humorless chuckle. It sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“She is.” His voice doesn’t waver. Not even slightly.
“You think I can’t have both?” I shake my head, staring at him. My pulse is starting to climb, but my voice stays controlled. “You think I’m that weak?”
“No, I know you can’t.” He straightens, pushing off the desk. His gaze hardens. “I’ve seen it happen to players like you…hell, to you. You think you can balance it all, but love makes you soft, Carter. It messes with your head. And if you’re not sharp, if you’re not fully focused, you’ll slip.”
Soft.
That one almost makes me laugh. Because if anything, loving her has made me ruthless.
His voice drops lower, heavier, like he’s delivering a warning that’s been sitting on his tongue for years.
“And if you slip, someone else will take your place.”
There it is. The real fear. The league doesn’t wait. It replaces. It upgrades. It forgets.
I breathe in through my nose, slow and controlled, like I’m seconds away from stepping onto the ice and the crowd is roaring around me.
“My place isn’t up for grabs,” I say, voice tight.
“Then prove it.” He tilts his head. “By making the right choice.” he arches a brow.
“You mean your choice.” I clench my fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms hard enough to sting.
“I mean the choice that ensures you don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for.” His words are clipped, sharp as a blade. “This is your last shot, Carter. The one you’ve been fighting for since you stepped back into the spotlight. And if you think you can juggle a relationship and still stay on top, you’re fooling yourself.”
The spotlight.
He doesn’t say the rest of it. The mistakes. The fall. The climb back up.
But I hear it anyway.
“That’s bullshit.” I shake my head. My patience is thinning fast now.
“No, that’s reality.”
A thick silence settles between us, the kind that could snap a man in half if he let it. The fan keeps spinning. The clock on the wall ticks once. Twice. Three times.
But I don’t break. I don’t even bend. Because this was absolute bullshit. His reasons were the dumbest part of it all. And what annoyed me the most was that he was asking me to hurt his daughter for a career, not because he was protecting her. Not because he thought I’d break her heart.
He was protecting my stats. My image. My trajectory.
Instead, I lift my chin, meeting his stare dead-on.
“I’m not breaking up with Ava.”
“Liam.” His jaw ticks. A warning.
“No.” My voice is firm. Solid. No hesitation. “I love her. And I won’t let you or anyone else tell me I can’t have her and my career at the same time.”
The words echo in the room louder than anything else has.
I love her.
I don’t soften them. I don’t retract them.
He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face like I’m some stubborn kid who won’t listen. But I have listened. I’ve heard every single word. Every warning. Every implied threat.
And I’m still standing my goddamn ground.
“This isn’t about her,” he says, his voice quieter now. Not as sharp. Not as commanding. “It’s about you. Your focus. Your drive. You’ve got one shot to make it to the top, and I won’t watch you throw it away for some…”
His words cut off. He doesn’t say it. Doesn’t say anything.
Because he knows better.
He knows if he reduces her to something temporary, something insignificant, I’ll walk out that door and never look back.
“For me, Coach…It is and will always be about her.” I step closer, my pulse pounding in my ears. “So, if you respect me, Coach, if you really give a damn about me, then trust me when I say, she isn’t going to ruin me.”
She’s not my weakness. She’s my reason.
We stare at each other, the silence stretching, thick with everything we aren’t saying. Pride. Fear. Control. Concern.
Then… the door creaks open, making me turn. And my stomach fucking drops.
Ava stood there, her eyes glossy and face pale as tears streaked down her cheeks. Her hand was still on the door handle like she hadn’t meant to push it open all the way. Like she hadn’t meant to hear what she heard.
And just like that, every ounce of fight inside me shatters.
Because I can handle Coach. I can handle pressure. I can handle threats about my career.
But the look on her face?
That’s the one thing I don’t know how to survive.