Page 124
Story: Pucking His Enemy
"Yeah, well, it was the least I could do. I meant what I said, Kat. I'm not just showing up for the easy parts."
"I'm in this. For you. For the kid. For all of it."
My voice catches somewhere low and sticky, like the words might choke if I try to say more. I lean my head against his shoulder, balancing the bowl between us.
"I know," I whisper. "That's what scares me, theallof it."
He kisses my hair. "Me too."
But he doesn't move. He just sits there, steady and warm beside me, his hand finding mine and squeezing once.
And for the first time in a long time, that steady warmth might be enough for me to believe in.
Chapter thirty-six
Liam
Idon’tknock.
I walk into Riley’s office like I’ve kicked down better doors for worse reasons. Not because I’m cocky—but because I’m done waiting for permission.
She’s hunched over her laptop, typing like the world might end if she doesn’t answer that last email. Her head lifts when she sees me, and just like that, her whole expression tightens.
“Oh good,” she says, dry as ever. “One of my favorite migraines. Please tell me you didn’t get caught stumbling out of another underground sex party.”
It’s a joke. Kind of. But I see the tension in her jaw. The kind you get when you already know something’s coming and you’re bracing for impact.
I shut the door behind me and sit across from her like I’m planting a flag.
“No cameras. No audience. So let me say it plain: Katarina and I, we’re out. Done with the PR stunt.”
Riley’s fingers hover above her keyboard like they’re unsure what the hell to do next.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re still together,” I say fast, before she starts spinning it into some broken-up-drama headline. “But the fake couple bit? Over. No more staged dinners or Instagram setups. No more smiling like we’re on cue. I’m done playing house for the press.”
She stares. Blank face, blinking slow. The eye of the hurricane.
“You do realize,” she says carefully, “the presslovedthat narrative.The ‘bad boy enforcer tamed by the brilliant team nutritionist.’Aurora and I crunched the numbers And you two are the most clickbait romance this team’s ever had. I mean look at these metrics. The growth. The engagement numbers.”
“I don’t give a shit about engagement numbers.”My voice stays even, but my fists clench in my lap. “I’m not here to debate numbers. I’m here to tell you the game’s over. Kat’s not someprop. And I’m not letting anyone, including this organization, use her like she is.”
She leans back slowly, folding her arms like she’s assessing me for damage.
“So what is this, then?” She says all cocky, love?
I don’t answer right away. Not because I don’t know. But because the word’s too small for what this is. It’s more like gravity. Like something that’salwaysbeen there, just waiting for me to stop pretending I was weightless.
“I’m protecting my family.”
That stops her. Just for a second, her mask slips.
“Family,” she repeats, like she’s trying to taste the word in her mouth.
“Yeah. You don’t have to get it. But that’s where I draw the line now. I’ll keep showing up for the team. I’ll do interviews. Smile. And even sign shit. But the fake couple thing? That’s dead. I’m not selling something I’m actually trying to build.”
Riley turns her chair toward the window, looking out like the stadium might whisper a solution. “There’s more to this. Something you’re not telling me.”
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