Page 14 of Power Play

“Don’t listen to grumpy gills here,” Ethan says. “You look hot as hell, Lil P. If you feel like ditching whoever you’re meeting later for some real fun, you have my number.”

“Thanks, Ethan. Hockey guys aren’t really my type, but I appreciate the offer,” Piper laughs. “And thank you, Liam. Nice is still a compliment, and I love compliments.”

“No problem,” I say, turning a corner out of the kitchen and nearly running into Emmy.

“Whoa.” She puts a hand on the center of my chest. “Easy there, Sullivan.”

“Sorry. Distracted.”

“By?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

She peeks around the corner to the conversation I left and hums. “Don’t drop your food on my new rug.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

“But you can drop it on Maverick’s new suit if you’re feeling wild. It’s hanging in the bedroom. He won’t shut up about it, and if I have to hear another word about itsvelvet interior, I’m going to scream.”

A laugh falls out of me. “It sucks not having you around anymore, Hartwell. I’d take you over your other half any day.”

Emmy’s laugh matches mine. She squeezes my arm, and I can’t help but smile.

We got close when she was on the team a few years ago, spending almost an entire season together before an end-of-the-year trade sent her to Toronto. Not long after, the Baltimore Sea Crabs, our division rival, snatched her up with a lucrative contract.

I still see her plenty, but it’s special when you get to play with someone you like. Someone who is like a part of your family. I’d run into a fire for Emerson Hartwell—all of the boys would—and I know she’d do the same for us.

“Insufferable, isn’t he? But you can’t help but love him.”

“It’s unfortunate for all of us.” I ruffle her hair, and she gives my stomach a light punch. “Go get food.”

She brushes past me. “I’m glad you’re here, Liam.”

I huff out a breath. “Me too, Red.”

It’s lesschaotic out on the balcony than it is inside.

Thank fuck.

I need a break. A second to relax. A minute without the video games and yelling and my teammates annoying the shit out of one another.

I take a deep breath and savor the silence, the quiet lasting only a handful of seconds before the balcony door slides open behind me. I turn and see Piper standing in front of the large glass windows, her arms wrapped around herself. I frown at the sight of her.

“Oh.” Her eyes meet mine and she blinks. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

“You okay?”

“I didn’t eat or drink enough today, and that usually triggers a migraine. I feel the makings of one starting, and I thought some fresh air might help. Gosh, it feels nice. It’s too warm inside, and I love fall in the city.”

I point at the lounge chair by the wall. “Sit.”

Piper shuffles over to the chair and plops down. There’s a long stretch of silence then she huffs out a soft laugh, the first to make conversation.

“The chicken was shit, wasn’t it?” she asks.

I don’t have the heart to tell her it was terrible. Undercooked and not edible. It’s obvious she’s never operated a grill, but I shrug instead and say, “I’ve had worse.”

“You’re being nice.”

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