Page 60 of The Pucking Player

Is this how it feels to be scheduled for your execution?

Ok. Calm down, Sophie. Dramatic much?

I mean, it shouldn’t matter if he found out about Liam and me. After all, I’m planning to distance myself from him anyway. And after the way I bolted out of his apartment yesterday morning like my ass was on fire, he probably wants nothing to do with me anymore.

Still, as I make my way to the training complex, I can’t shake off the knot in my stomach.

But hey, maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe Daddy just wants to have a nice father-daughter lunch. Maybe he wants to discuss the weather, or the latest developments in enzyme kinetics, or literally anything other than Liam O’Connor.

Yeah, right. And maybe I’ll win the Nobel Prize in Medicine before I even finish med school.

As I approach the Defenders building, my heart thunders in my chest, my palms sweaty. And let’s not even talk about the gymnastics routine my stomach is performing.

I take a deep breath, trying to channel my inner Zen master.

It doesn’t work.

Shocking, I know.

With legs that feel like they’re made of Jello, I approach Dad’s office. My hand hovers over the doorknob for amoment, and I briefly consider making a run for it. But like a mature adult, I open the door.

And promptly feel like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.

There, sitting around my dad’s desk, are Liam and Jessica. They’re casually unwrapping brown paper bags as if this is just an ordinary lunch meeting.

Jessica looks up and beams at me, holding out a sandwich. “Hey, sis! I got your favorite—turkey and avocado on whole grain. With sprouts, just the way you like it.”

I raise my eyebrows and take the bag, questioningly eyeing her. She gives me a reassuring nod.

My eyes dart to Liam, and he gives me a small smile that makes my insides do a triple axel.

“Well,” I mumble as I settle into my chair, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is...nice. And unexpected.”

Understatement of the century.

I take a tentative bite, and it’s like trying to swallow a cotton ball. Meanwhile, Liam’s lounging in his chair, all relaxed confidence and effortless charm. He’s not looking at me, and I can tell it’s deliberate. His jaw is set in that annoyingly attractive way, and he’s radiating an aura of cool composure that makes me want to simultaneously admire him and dump my water over his perfectly styled hair.

He takes a bite of his own lunch—probably something manly like a steak sandwich or a whole roasted chicken. How can he be so calm? Is this a hockey player thing, or just a Liam O’Connor superpower?

Daddy clears his throat, and I brace myself. Here it comes. The lecture. The disappointment. The PowerPoint presentation on “Why Dating Hockey Players is Stupid.”

“Sophie, thanks for coming on such short notice,” he starts, drawing out the words reluctantly. He pauses, dartinghis eyes to Liam, then back at me. “The PEDs scandal seems to be calming down now that you and Liam are all over social media.”

Wait, what?

I sneak a glance at Liam, and he’s looking right at my dad. He’s the picture of easy confidence. There’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and I swear I can see amusement dancing in his eyes.

He catches me looking and raises his eyebrows at me. How dare he be so composed when I’m over here having an internal meltdown? It’s infuriating.

And maybe a little bit hot.

Daddy continues, his words coming out like he’s chewing on lemons, “It’s...helping the team’s image.”

The reluctance in his voice is so thick you could skate on it. I’m pretty sure this is physically painful for him to say.

Before I can process this bizarre turn of events, Jessica swoops in like the PR ninja that she is. “The betting against the Defenders has calmed down,” she chirps, sounding way too chipper for this awkward luncheon. “And I’m not hearing grumbles from sponsors anymore either. So clearly,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “we should continue doing what we’re doing.”

I nearly choke on my sprouts.

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