Page 12 of Power Play

I hate it here.

Emmy

Want to run away together, Liam?

Me

Yes

Maverick

You know what? I’m not even offended. I hope the two of you are very happy together. You have my blessing.

*Emmy Hartwell has left the chat*

*You have left the chat*

“I brought salad.”I set the bowl on the island in Maverick and Emmy’s penthouse apartment and lean against the counter. “And dressing.”

Maverick beams and adjusts the buffet line to make space for the Caesar salad I picked up at the deli around the corner from my place. “I’m glad you’re here. What changed your mind?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. Didn’t feel like sitting at home, I guess.”

“I knew you missed us when we weren’t together.” He pinches my cheek and I knock his hand away. “You doing okay? You looked stiff during morning skate.”

“Hamstring. A lot on my mind. It’s no big deal,” I grumble, thinking about the call from my mom earlier this afternoon.

She chewed me out for not telling them about the date I’m bringing to Alana’s wedding then grilled me for half an hour about a woman who doesn’t exist. I’ve already started planning excuses for why I’m showing up alone. An expired passport seems like the most logical explanation, and I’m willing to pay someone to make me a fake document so I can cover my tracks.

“Shit. Your hamstring is still bothering you? I thought you were feeling better.”

“I’m fine.”

“Say it without grimacing.”

“Fuck you.”

“There he is.” Maverick’s grin is back as he opens the oven and pulls out a glass dish, setting it on the stove. “Glad you’re not falling apart on me, Sullivan.”

“Told you I’m fine.” I grab a paper plate off the top of the stack and head for the lasagna Hudson’s personal chef cooked. “Thanks for making me come tonight, by the way. I know I give you all shit, but if I’m forced to spend time with people, I’m glad it’s you all.”

“Wow.” He wraps his arms around my waist and I roll my eyes. “Thatis the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re on a roll lately, Goalie Daddy.”

“Don’t let it go to your inflated head.” I pull out of his hold and move to the mashed potatoes Grant whipped up with his new mixer. He won’t stop sending us photos of himself in an apron and chef’s hat, and I’m going to be pissed if they taste like shit. “It’s a one-time thing.”

“A one-time thing I’m going to cherish forever. Dinner’s ready,” he yells, and there’s a stampede of feet. “They aren’t quiet, are they?”

“Nope.” I add two pieces of grilled chicken and garlic bread to my plate then move it all to the side to make room for a slice of pizza. “Bunch of hooligans.”

The noise in the kitchen amps up ten decibels as my teammates file in. Some of them brought their significant others. Some came solo. They’re all here though, and it’s pure fucking chaos.

There’s pushing and shoving. A fork gets thrown and lands in the wall. Half a stack of napkins goes flying in the air. We got rid of real plates three years ago, shifting to paper products because shit always ends up broken when the Stars boys are around.

Especially when food is involved.

“Hi, Liam.” I glance over my shoulder and find Piper smiling at me. Her grin is big and wide, and the blue sweater she’s wearing brings out her eyes. “Glad to see you clothed and on two feet.”

“Piper. Glad to see you not freaking out over my bare chest.”

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