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Chapter thirty-six

Liam

I don’t knock.

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 press loved that 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 some prop. 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’s always been 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.”

I don’t deny it.

“There is. But you don’t need that part. You just need the truth. And that’s what I gave you.”

She swivels back around, eyes like knives again. “You think this will last? You’re not exactly known for sticking around.”

“I’m known for showing the hell up when it matters.” I meet her stare, hard and sure. “And this matters.”

There’s a long pause before she sighs, like she’s already mapping my fallout coverage.

“Fine. You’re off the promo circuit. No more cute date nights or Q&As about your ‘tough guy charm.’ But if this implodes, and the press turns it into a circus, I’m dragging your ass into every puff piece we have left.”

I smirk. “I’ll bring my own glitter.”

I leave before she changes her mind. And the second I step into the hallway, something inside me loosens. Like I’ve finally shrugged off a second skin I didn’t realize was suffocating me.

But this isn’t the conversation that matters.

That one’s waiting down the hall behind a door with her name on it.

Katarina Novak. Canyon Bay Cyclones Team Nutritionist.

This time, I knock.

“Come in,” she calls.

She’s at her desk, eyes on her screen,banana half-eaten granola spilled like she forgot she was human halfway through breakfast. Her gaze flicks up and lands on me—and that shift happens. Always does.

The world quiets. Just her. Always just her.

“Hey,” she says. “You’re not on my schedule today.”

“Nope.” I close the door and step inside.

Something in her expression tightens. “Is everything okay?”

I don’t answer right away. Just walk around her desk and rest my hip against the edge like I’ve done it a hundred times. Like I haven’t spent the last few weeks walking around with her under my skin.

“I went to see Riley. Told her we’re done. No more PR couple bullshit.”

Her mouth parts slightly, eyes going wide. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” I reach for her hand, cover it with mine. “Told her I’m done pretending. I’m not playing dress-up for the press anymore. Not when what we’ve got is real.”

She relaxes a little, but I can see it—she’s still scanning me for signs this is temporary. That I’ll flinch and fold when it gets real.

“But that’s not why I came.”

She tilts her head, voice wary. “No?”

I shake mine, heart punching inside my chest.

“I can’t be patient anymore, Kat.”

She stills. No blinking. No breathing.

“I said I’d wait while you figured out what you wanted. And I meant it. But I’m standing here, looking at you, and I know what I want. I’ve always known . And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

She doesn’t move. Just stares like she’s waiting for me to rip the floor out.

“I want it all,” I say. “The morning texts. The midnight food runs when we both look like trash. The arguments over your ridiculous cravings and who gets to name the baby. I want to be next to you when shit gets hard. When it gets weird. When it’s boring and raw and completely fucking real.”

I drag in a breath. My throat’s tight. My hands are shaking a little and I hate it, but I don’t stop.

“When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m performing. I don’t feel like a mistake waiting to happen. I feel like I’m worth something…like I don’t need to keep looking for the next thing to distract me from feeling nothing.”

Her lips part. “Liam…”

I drop to one knee. Half out of instinct. Half because my legs are giving up the fight.

“I’m not asking for forever. Not asking for a ring or some fairytale ending. I’m just asking you to stop pretending you don’t feel this too. To be mine. For real. No cameras. No back doors. Just us.”

And for a second, time fucking freezes.

Then she reaches for me like she’s drowning, crashes into me like I’m the only thing left above water. Her mouth —hot, hard, and desperate on mine.

She kisses me like I’m the only truth she’s got left. Like she’s done holding back, too.

And when she pulls back, breathless and wrecked, her voice is barely a whisper.

“I already am,” she says. “I’ve been yours this whole damn time.”

And just like that—I can breathe again.