Page 9 of Over the Line

I knew we still had a long way to go before our fractured relationship was fully mended, but we’d made it this far. Hopefully I didn’t fuck things up all over again.

Warmups ended and the players returned to the locker room. On the Jumbotron, a reporter—not the one who’d been pestering Liam earlier—spoke. He gave a quick rundown of how the team had done in their most recent games, and how head coach Rob Dahl thought they could break their two-game losing streak. He highlighted some key players from both teams tonight, and rattled off the stats for the respective goalies.

“With one exception, Pittsburgh’s injury list remains status quo,” he said. “Netminder Chase Barnum returns tonight after missing three games due to a lower body injury. Carson Morris is week to week with a lower body injury, and Liam St. Clair continues to recover from an upper body injury. Both players have been practicing alone in no-contact jerseys, and the captain is expected to return to team practices next week.”

I turned to Liam. “Sounds like you’re getting close to coming back.”

He rocked his head from side to side and gingerly rolled his left shoulder. “Getting there. They were telling me it would be six weeks, but now it’s looking more like four.”

“That’s great! You’ve probably been getting stir crazy.”

He laughed, unaware of what that did to my pulse. “You have no idea.”

“I have a son who plays hockey, remember? Trust me—I know how twitchy you guys get when you’re stuck on the bench.”

He chuckled again, an odd expression flickering across his face before he broke eye contact and gazed down at the ice. Discomfort? Had I said something wrong? I genuinely couldn’t begin to read him.

“I can’t imagine Kanes in my situation,” he said almost disinterestedly. “He doesn’t even like being on the bench between shifts.”

“You should’ve seen him when he broke his collarbone in U16.”

Liam turned to me again, eyebrows up. “Seriously? He must’ve driven you all nuts.”

“God, you’re not wrong. We ended up letting him skate again before his doctors really wanted him to, just so he’d stop climbing the walls.”

Liam’s soft laugh was way more attractive than it should’ve been. “I can relate. I broke my jaw in major juniors, and I was pretty much back on the ice as soon as I could comfortably wear a fishbowl.”

I chafed my arms and shuddered. “Ugh. That’s one injury I can’t imagine.”

“Eh. At least I didn’t lose any teeth that time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That time?”

He gestured at two teeth on the left side. “They were repairable, fortunately, but holy shit, that hurt.”

“Oh my God. I don’t even want to ask how it happened.” I chafed my arms again, squirming in my chair. “I’m a baby about going to the dentist as it is.”

He chuckled, sitting back in the cushy leather chair. “Yeah, it’s not my favorite thing in the world.”

I was saved from any elaboration because the team’s hype montage kicked on. Music blasted through the arena as highlight clips played showing various Phantoms. The two goalies making incredible saves. The forwards scoring spectacular goals. Skaters checking opponents into the boards.

My breath stuttered when Liam, moving in slow motion, whipped a dagger of a shot through a dense screen and into the back of the net. His face was taut with concentration and exertion, and then full of elation when he realized he’d scored. I didn’t dare glance at the man sitting next to me, or I was sure he’d see right through to this new and ridiculous crush.

A crush? Really? You’re forty-seven years old, Garrett. Come on.

Yeah. Maybe. But I’d also been single for a while, and though I hadn’t put much effort into the hookup scene lately, I was getting restless again. I had been since before I came to Pittsburgh.

Suddenly finding myself in the presence of Liam St. Clair just… wasn’t helping. At all.

Then the montage switched, and I suddenly had a rush of cold reality and fatherly pride. There was my son. There was Liam. Chris had the puck, and he bodied a huge player out of the way like he was nothing, then snapped the puck to Liam. Liam slipped between two guys like they weren’t even there, and just when a third was about to ram into him, he passed back to Chris. And Chris scored.

Watching the two of them celebrate their goal made my heart race and my stomach flutter. I was proud beyond words of Chris. He was the elite pro he’d always dreamed of being.

But I was also stupidly attracted to Liam. To Chris’s teammate.

His teammate who was, and had been for years, out and proud.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. Even if Liam was inexplicably attracted to an older man with a far lower net worth, he was off-limits. He had to be. Maybe Chris wouldn’t give a shit, but I’d been on thin enough ice with him for too long to take that risk.