Page 44 of They All Puck Me

I stand there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of our fractured friendship settle heavily on my shoulders as our teammates look between us uncertainly.

The tension with Noah, the mess with Olivia, it’s all too much. I need to clear my head, so I decide to shut everyone out. Like I'm used too. No more distractions. No more complications.

First step, cancel plans. Colt texts about a team dinner at Rick’s Barbecue.

Not happening.

I type back: “Can’t make it. Got stuff to handle.”

Next, I ignore Olivia's calls and texts. My phone buzzes on the bench as I lace up my skates for a solo training session. Her name lights up the screen, but I can’t deal with that right now. The memories of last night… hell, I need to focus.

I let it go to voicemail and throw my phone into my locker.

The rink is cold and empty—just how I like it. I push off hard, skating laps until my legs burn and my lungs scream for air. Each stride is a desperate attempt to outrun the chaos in my head.

The puck feels heavy on my stick as I drill shots at the net. Each slapshot is a release of frustration, a futile effort to regain control. The clang of the puck hitting the crossbar echoes through the empty rink.

“Damn it!” I shout, smashing my stick against the ice.

I skate harder, faster, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of drills: puck handling, passing against the boards, rapid-fire shots. Sweat drips into my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t stop.

The door creaks open behind me. Great. Just what I need—an audience.

“Hey,” Noah’s voice cuts through the silence.

I keep my back to him, focusing on lining up another shot.

“Liam, we need to talk.”

“No,” I snap back, sending the puck flying into the net with a force that rattles the goalposts. “We don’t.”

He sighs but doesn’t leave. Instead, he skates over to stand in front of me. “You’re shutting everyone out.”

“Yeah? Maybe that’s what I need right now.” My grip tightens on my stick.

“You think this is helping?” He gestures around us at the empty rink. “Beating yourself up out here alone?”

“It’s better than dealing with your bullshit,” I retort.

Noah’s jaw clenches. “You’re being a grade A dick.”

“Good,” I say flatly, moving around him to retrieve another puck.

“Look,” he continues, “I get that you’re pissed off?—”

“You have no idea,” I interrupt.

“I do know,” he insists. “But this? This isn’t solving anything.”

I line up another shot, ignoring him completely.

“You’re not just pushing me away,” Noah says quietly. “You’re pushing her away too.”

That gets under my skin. The shot goes wide and slams into the boards with a loud thud.

“Leave her out of this." I shout. "What do you want from me, Noah?” I ask through gritted teeth, finally turning to face him fully.

“I want you to stop acting like some entitled asshole. Like you're more deserving of Olivia than I am.” His voice is steady but laced with frustration.

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