Chapter 76 Doing This
LIAM
The second I step into the house, the scent of vanilla and something undeniably her wraps around me like a vice, tight and unforgiving, like it’s been waiting at the door just to sink its claws into me. My heartbeat pounds, brutal and relentless in my chest, each thud loud enough to drown out the hum of the city outside. I barely get the door shut before my feet start moving on their own, instinct dragging me forward like gravity has shifted and she’s the center of it.
The TV hums softly from the living room, some late night show playing to an audience that doesn’t exist. She’s there. Exactly where I knew she’d be. Curled up on the couch, wrapped in my hoodie, the sleeves swallowing her hands, spoon in hand, halfway through a tub of ice cream balanced on her thigh. The lamp beside her casts a soft golden glow over her skin, and for a second, I just stand there, taking her in like I’ve been wandering a desert and finally found water.
She doesn’t look up when I enter.
But I see it. The slight twitch of her fingers around the spoon. The way her shoulders stiffen for half a heartbeat before she forces herself to relax. The way her breathing shifts, just barely.
She knew I was coming.
Damn it, Ava.
I step forward, each footstep heavy, the weight in my chest almost unbearable. “You’re really gonna pretend you don’t see me?”
Her spoon clatters against the tub, the sound too loud in the quiet room, but she still doesn’t look at me. “Didn’t think you’d be back,” she mutters, voice small, hesitant, like she’s testing how much ground beneath her is solid.
“I never left you, Snowflakes.” I exhale sharply, the nickname slipping out like muscle memory, like truth.
That gets her attention.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and fuck. It hits me like a goddamn body check straight to the ribs. The exhaustion. The heartbreak. The silent plea sitting heavy in her gaze like she’s been holding it in for days. There are faint shadows under her eyes, her lashes clumped slightly like she’s cried more than she’d ever admit.
I should be mad. I should still be furious that she hid this from me. That she carried something this big alone, even for a second. But standing here, watching her fight back tears in my hoodie, looking small and stubborn and breakable all at once, the only thing I feel is a deep, soul crushing need to hold her until the world makes sense again.
“Liam…” she starts, voice trembling.
I take another step forward, but she tenses, like she’s bracing for impact.
“No,” I cut her off, my own voice raw and rough around the edges. “You don’t get to push me away anymore. You don’t get to act like this doesn’t change everything.”
Her throat works as she swallows, her gaze darting to the TV, to the floor, anywhere but me. “I never wanted to hold this from you. I was just…” She trails off, her voice cracking under the weight of it.
“Scared,” I finish for her. “I know.”
Silence swallows the space between us, thick and heavy. The TV keeps playing some laugh track in the background, cruel and out of place. She looks at me then. Really looks at me. Taking in the tension in my shoulders, the exhaustion in my eyes, the shadows beneath them. I probably look as wrecked as I feel.
“Are you still mad at me?” she whispers, the question fragile as glass.
“No, baby.” I shake my head slowly. “I’m not mad.”
Her lips part slightly, and I see the way her chest rises and falls, uneven. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the anger, the disappointment.
“Then why did you leave?”
I drag a hand through my hair, the strands catching between my fingers. “Because I needed a second. A second to process. To breathe. To figure out how to say everything I needed to without scaring you.” My voice softens without permission. “Without scaring myself.”
“And did you?” She sniffs, wiping under her nose with the sleeve of my hoodie.
My jaw clenches, but not in anger. In resolve. “Yeah.” I step closer, and this time I don’t stop when she stiffens. “I realized that none of it matters as much as this. You. Me. Us.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and that’s it. That’s all it takes.
I close the last bit of distance between us, reaching out, wrapping my fingers around her wrist and pulling her straight into my chest.
She gasps when she collides with me, hands flying up, gripping my hoodie like it’s the only stable thing in the room. But I just wrap my arms around her, tight, unyielding, burying my face in her hair and breathing her in. Vanilla and shampoo and something that is purely, undeniably Ava.
“Liam…” She shudders against me.
“I love you,” I say, the words scraping out of me, hoarse and raw against her skin. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. And you’re carrying my baby, Snowflakes. Our baby. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want that?”
Her shoulders start shaking, and then she’s sobbing into my chest, fists twisting in the fabric of my hoodie. “I’m sorry,” she whispers over and over, broken and desperate. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” I cup the back of her head, holding her there. “Just… don’t ever hide things from me. You hear me? I can handle anything. Just not losing you.”
I tilt her chin up gently, my thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down her cheek. Her eyes are red, glassy, but there’s something else there now. Relief. Maybe even hope.
“I promise,” she says, nodding, sniffling. “I won’t.”
“Good.” My forehead rests against hers for a second, breathing her in, feeling the warmth of her, the life of her. The life inside her.
And then I kiss her.
Hard. Desperate. Consuming.
It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s months of love and days of fear and hours of regret poured into one collision of mouths. She melts against me instantly, like she was waiting for this, hands sliding up my chest, gripping my shirt like she never wants to let go.
I taste salt and vanilla and her.
I kiss her like I need to prove something. Like I need to carve the truth into her bones. You are not alone. You were never alone.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, I rest my forehead against hers, our noses brushing, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.
“You’re stuck with me now,” I murmur, my lips grazing hers with every word.
“I think I was always stuck with you, Captain,” she says, letting out a watery laugh, her fingers tracing along my jaw like she’s memorizing it.
“Damn right, Snowflakes.” I smirk, even though my chest feels too full to contain anything else.
I glance down at her stomach without meaning to, my palm sliding there gently, reverently. The reality of it hits me all over again. There’s a future there. A tiny heartbeat we created. Something bigger than both of us.
Her hand covers mine, and for a second, we just stand there like that. Quiet. Steady. Together.
Then I lift her, scooping her right off the couch like she weighs nothing, and she lets out a surprised little sound, arms wrapping around my neck.
“Liam,” she laughs softly, brushing her lips against my cheek.
“I’ve wasted enough time,” I mutter, carrying her down the hallway. “Not doing that again.”
I push the bedroom door open with my foot, laying her gently on the bed like she’s something precious, something irreplaceable. I hover over her for a moment, taking her in, the way her hair fans out against the pillow, the way her eyes stay locked on mine like she’s afraid I might disappear.
“I’m here,” I tell her again, softer this time. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Tonight, I show her.
Not just with words. Not just with promises.
With every slow kiss pressed to her skin. Every careful touch that says I choose you. Every whispered I love you breathed against her collarbone, her temple, her lips. I take my time, memorizing her, grounding myself in her warmth, in the steady rhythm of her breathing.
It’s not about anger anymore. Not about pride.
It’s about us.
About the way she sighs my name like it means home. About the way her fingers curl into me like I’m her anchor. About the quiet moments in between, where our foreheads touch and nothing else exists.
Later, when we’re tangled together beneath the sheets, her head resting against my chest, my hand splayed protectively over her stomach, I stare up at the ceiling and let it sink in.
Tomorrow, I step onto the ice for the biggest game of my life.
Tomorrow, the arena will be loud. Cameras flashing. Crowds screaming.
But tonight?
Tonight, I won something bigger.
I found my way back to her.
And tomorrow, I win the biggest game of my life with her watching from the stands, knowing that no matter what happens on that ice, I’m already exactly where I’m supposed to be.