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Of course it’s him.

Because the universe clearly hates me.

I barely have time to slap together the mental equivalent of a hazmat suit before the door swings open like it’s got something to prove.

I don’t look up yet. I already know it’s him—I can feel the smug wafting in.

Then I hear it.

That voice. The one that called me reckless and dramatic like he wasn’t the one throwing a full-blown parking lot tantrum last month. Low. Confident. Just this side of arrogant.

“Doc?”

My eyes snap up.

He’s standing in the doorway, all broad shoulders, perfectly tousled hair, and a look on his face like I’m the surprise in this scenario.

He blinks.

I blink back.

And unfortunately, he’s still hot. I hate that about him. Like, actively resent it. His jawline should be illegal. His whole face should come with a warning label.

“Liam,” I manage, forcing my voice into something that sort of resembles professional. “Yeah. Just… take a seat.”

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out… Awesome. Great. Real smooth, Kat. Maybe next time lead with a scowl and throw in a clipboard for effect.

One eyebrow lifts—cocky, amused.

“Lets Get this done.”

“Right, did you bring your nutrition, log” I mumble, flipping through papers I don’t need just to avoid making eye contact again.

“Yup. Totally. That tracks.”

He drops into the chair across from me like he’s settling in for happy hour instead of a mandated session with the one person in the organization who remembers him cursing me out.

This is going to be fun.

Liam ignores the question like it’s beneath him, his energy takes up half the room His shoulders take up the rest.

“Sorry I’m late. Team stuff.”

He’s not sorry. His tone’s too casual. Like showing up late to a mandatory session with the team nutritionist is just an option.

“It’s fine,” I say, voice flat. No inflection. No smile. Let my silence do the heavy lifting.

“I’ve been meeting with the the other players this week and that’s one of the most important parts for me to keep your health on track. Make sense to you?Let’s get started.”

I don’t wait for a response.I dive into my clipboard like it’s a shield.

“I’ve reviewed your intake logs from your last team—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, flippant. “Probably wasn’t eating clean enough. But I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing this a while.”

I look up slowly. “You mean…being alive?”

He grins.