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It was a pledge—to them and to himself—to rise above the chaos swirling inside him. To drown out the doubts. To hide the gnawing insecurities that threatened to surface with every passing minute. He didn’t feel ready. Not even close. But that didn’t matter now.
He had to be ready anyway.
There was so much to learn. Too much. And it's not just about being captain, either.
He had to figure out how to be a friend to Ashley—how to truly know her, listen to her, and support her in ways she didn’t even know she needed.
He had to somehow become a husband, at least in name for now, and hopefully, something more in time.
He had to navigate this strange and fragile connection between them without pushing her too far or retreating when she pulled away. And she pulled away a lot.
He wanted her to see him. Really see him.
Not as some contractual obligation. Not as a convenient name on a piece of paper for the next ninety days.
But as someone who might be worth falling for.
Someone who might be worthy of her trust. Of someone to turn to, to hold hands with again, to someday want to hold close.
He wanted so many moments like that simple breakfast they’d had together this morning.
That quiet peace and strained conversation had felt so good deep down inside.
And if that weren’t enough ?
He also had to learn how to be the guy who led the charge on the ice. Who skated out front with confidence burning bright in his eyes and steadiness in his hands. Even if inside, he felt anything but that.
“I am so screwed,” he whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the hum of the rink as he walked down the hallway toward it. For a moment, he let the doubt devour him, let it whisper all the ways he might fail, all the places he might fall short – and paused.
Coach Starnes had said something that stuck with him like a burr under his skin . “Fear is contagious, but so is confidence.”
Liam clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe deeper and stand taller.
He wasn’t fearless. Not by a long shot. But maybe…
he could fake it long enough for it to grow into something real for all of those who would depend on him.
Maybe if he believed in himself, even a little, then perhaps the team would support him…
and maybe Ashley might believe in him, too.
H ours had passed since practice ended, but Liam hadn’t gone straight home.
His brand-new BMW had veered instinctively toward a small flower shop tucked beside the bakery in town.
He parked, hesitated for only a moment, and then went inside.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped back out into the golden spill of late afternoon with a bouquet of soft pink roses in one hand and a box of macarons in the other.
He didn’t even know if Ashley liked macarons.
Maybe they w ere too fancy, too sweet, or too delicate.
But he couldn’t help himself. The day had gone better than he could’ve imagined, and there was this strange sense humming through his chest — like possibility.
He wanted to share it with someone. And the only person who came to mind was her.
As he pulled into her gravel driveway, the tires crunched loudly against the stones. Her new truck was parked there, beside him, and he let the engine idle for a moment before shutting it off. The porch light hadn’t flicked on yet, but dusk was falling fast, casting long shadows through the trees.
Liam sat there, gripping the steering wheel, staring out through the windshield.
The driveway.
His eyes dropped to the uneven stretch of gravel, the ruts and loose rocks.
He hadn’t brought it up, but he was going to pave this for her.
It might seem small, maybe even presumptuous, but in his mind, it was necessary.
The idea of her possibly slipping on packed ice or, worse yet- her trying to shovel through frozen gravel in the previous winter – alone – made his chest tighten.
She deserved better.
And he could do it. He could make things easier, safer. Maybe couldn’t figure out where they stood, but she was his wife. It might be on paper, but that had to count for something if they both tried, right? This, the driveway, was something tangible he could do.
Flowers crinkling slightly in his grip, he stepped out into the cool air and walked toward the house.
He unlocked the front door quietly and stepped inside.
The warm light from the kitchen spilled across the hardwood floor, wrapping around him in welcome.
He expected to see her standi ng at the counter, maybe looking up with that guarded smile.
But the room was empty.
Still, something pulled his attention toward the windows at the back of the house. And then he saw her.
Ashley stood outside, just past the edge of the porch, her silhouette outlined against the growing shadows of evening.
Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, hugging a thick sweater around her as she looked up toward the sky.
The last light of day caught in her hair and made it shimmer, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow.
She looked peaceful. Untouchable. Like something out of a dream he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have.
Liam’s breath caught in his throat.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t call out.
Something in him felt paralyzed — caught in that razor-edge moment between hope and humiliation.
He glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. Pale pink petals trembled with the faint breeze drifting in from the cracked door behind him. The macarons were balanced in the crook of his arm, their pastel colors cheerful and light.
What was he doing?
They’d talked. They’d been kind. There’d been nervous laughter, maybe even a few friendly looks — but nothing definitive . Nothing that said, “Yes, I like you the way you like me.” His stomach churned as doubt crept in like fog through an open window.
He’d known her for a single day. One incredible, unexpected, eye-opening day. And here he was — holding roses like some kind of lovesick fool.
Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe Nadine had been right when she sneered and called him a loser. Maybe he was so desperate that he took some chance and built something in his head that wasn’t real.
Was he really going to walk out there, roses in hand, and just… offer himself like that? What if she looked at him with confusion or pity? What if she backed away? What if Ashley wasn’t interested in him?
Fear prickled along his spine.
One step back.
Then another.
He moved quietly, stealthy almost, and set the roses into a tall glass of water by the sink. He placed the box of macarons beside it, arranging it just so. Not too much. Not too obvious. Just a quiet gesture.
Casual but sweet.
Kind without being romantic.
Friendly without crossing a line.
It felt safer that way.
Still, as he stood there staring at the counter, a hollow ache pressed against his ribs. He wanted to be bold. Wanted to be the guy who marched outside, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her like he meant it.
But instead, Liam turned toward the back door, hesitating only briefly before calling out in what he hoped was a breezy, unaffected tone.
“Hey Ashley, I’m home from practice but forgot something. I’ll be back shortly,” he said, voice tight with nerves, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
And before she could turn around, before she could say anything — before she could see what he’d brought and what he’d done — Liam slipped quietly out the front door and disappeared into the safety of his car. No, he needed to leave for just a little bit and get his act together.
Lame.