Page 32 of They All Puck Me

“Liam, congratulations!!” she replies, looking up with that spark of curiosity I’ve come to admire.

“How about coming back and celebrating with me?” I ask, keeping my voice casual but direct.

Her eyes widen slightly before she recovers. “I uh, I don't know if that's a good idea. I've got an early morning of interviews.”

Her reluctance wears on me. Maybe I'm reading this all wrong.

"Oh come on, I won't keep you out too late. You don't know what kind of hockey intel I'll let slip after a few beers." I joke, hoping she takes the bait.

She shuffles a bit, her eyes glancing over her shoulder looking around. "I guess if it's beneficial to the piece."

We walk together out of the press room, the din of celebration growing louder as we near the locker room.

“Hand me your phone, I'll plug my address into your gps."

"Oh, okay, sure," she says, almost like her nerves are getting the better of her. She hands her phone to me like she's reluctant to let go of her own personal lifeline.

“Just give me a bit to get pick up, you know, bachelor pad and all."

She laughs an uncomfortable laugh. Okay, so bachelor pad might not have been the best way to describe it. But it's definitely better than saying let me hide the left over Chinese and jock straps strewn on the coffee table kind of thing.

"I can handle it," she says sweetly. "But I'll give you time to hide the body. See you shortly." She says with a wave as she walks towards the exit.

I barely make it home before Olivia arrives. The apartment’s a mess, but I manage to shove most of the clutter into a closet and spray some air freshener around. When the doorbell rings, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that I swear don’t exist.

Opening the door, I’m greeted by Olivia’s bright smile. “Hey,” she says, her eyes sweeping over me before landing on my face. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” I reply, stepping aside to let her in. “Make yourself at home.”

She glances around, taking in the minimalist decor. “It’s not what I expected,” she admits, dropping her bag on the couch.

“Yeah? What were you expecting?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“More trophies and posters of yourself,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I chuckle. “I get enough of that at the rink. Want a drink?”

“Sure,” she says, settling onto the couch. “Whatever you’re having.”

I head to the kitchen and grab two beers from the fridge. When I return, Olivia’s flipping through one of my old game programs, her fingers tracing over my picture.

“Found some memorabilia after all,” she quips as I hand her a beer.

“Just a little light reading,” I say, sitting beside her. The couch dips under our combined weight, bringing us closer than I anticipated.

She takes a sip of her beer and looks at me over the rim of the bottle. “You played an amazing game tonight.”

I shrug off the compliment. “It was a team effort.”

“Come on, don’t be modest,” she insists, nudging me with her elbow. “That pass to Noah was stellar.”

Her praise warms me more than it should. “Thanks,” I say simply.

There’s a moment of silence that feels heavy with unspoken words.

"There's only one thing that would be the icing on the cake today." I say quietly.

Olivia looks at me, her green eyes wide with curiosity. "Oh? And what’s that?"

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