Page 69 of Pressure Point

Liam turned toward his coach, watching as he closed the double hatch doors on the back of the rental. When Avery had asked for his help moving, telling him she’d rented the vehicle, he’d been worried that it was going to be way too small. But apparently she had much better spatial awareness than he did, as well as a firm grasp on just how much stuff she didn’t own, and it had been the perfect size. The only thing that hadn’t fit inside during their two trips between apartments had been her mattress, which Gunnar had managed to easily secure to the roof of the van to move it the few blocks over. Getting that up the stairs had been a different experience altogether though.

“What’s up?” Liam asked.

“Want to explain to me why I found one of your game day jerseys in the middle of the practice pitch when I arrived at the training center this morning?”

Shit, how did we forget that?

“Errrr…”

The goofy grin that was spreading across Gunnar’s face told Liam that his coach already knew the answer and was just prodding him for confirmation. As much as he wanted to keep it to himself, to respect Avery’s privacy and not advertise to the world that the field had seen a different kind of action last night, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to. He could already feel his own grin forming, betraying him.

“That’s what I thought.” Gunnar laughed, clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder as they walked toward the elevator. “Happy to hear it, lad.”

“Thanks.”

"There’s just something about your girl wearing your number, huh?” Gunnar waggled his eyebrows knowingly, and Liam didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.

“Ugh, Coach,” Liam muttered, shifting the box in his arms as the elevator doors shut. “I’m happy you’re happy and in love and all that, but…ugh. She’s the boss. I don’t need to be thinking about you and her and…ugh.”

A loud, roaring laugh erupted from Gunnar, his head thrown back. “Not how I meant it, lad. Although I won’t deny that Effie knows what she’s doing in that department, I was talking about in general. That warm fuzzy feeling you get knowing that she’s so proud to be yours that she’s willing to display it to everyone.”

Liam nodded, knowing the exact feeling he was talking about. He’d felt it last night the split second he’d spied her in his jersey. Seeing Orla in his kit for the first time when they were teens had been special, but not like this. This had almost taken his breath away. There might not have been a crowd to see her in it, but Avery had her choice of kits to wear—including blank ones. And of all the ones to wear for a photo shoot that was centered around making her feel good, she’d chosen his. That was as good as wearing it on national television as far as he was concerned.

“Are you going to make me pry it out of you?”

“What?” Liam asked.

“What’s going on between you two. Obviously something has changed. Question is, just how much?”

That’s a question I wish I had the answer to…

“Not really sure,” Liam admitted. “I like her. A lot. I…I maybe even more than like her. I don’t really know what I’m feeling, just that it’s not something I’ve felt before. Even with Orla. I also have no idea what she’s feeling.”

“Have you asked her? Told her how you feel?”

“No.”

“Because…” Gunnar prompted.

Liam shrugged, the box shifting in his grip. Talking about his feelings hadn’t really been on his agenda today, but Gunnar had a way of knowing when he needed to talk. Even if he didn’t always know that’s what he needed. Reaching deep inside, Liam mustered up the courage to say what he was feeling.

“Because what if she tells me that she doesn’t return those feelings? That this has all still been about Dash? That I’m still second-rate?”

“Second-rate?” Gunnar exclaimed. “Why the fuck would she think that?”

“I was second-string in Dundalk, I came in second to Paddy with Orla,” Liam said, trying to keep the “isn’t it fucking obvious?” out of his tone.

“You shouldn’t have been playing backup in Dundalk. And you’re certainly not playing backup here,” Gunnar told him, his voice stern. The look in his eyes was serious, borderline pissed off. Liam knew this look. This was the look he gave them when he wanted them to listen. It was his “I’m only gonna say this once” look. “I get why you’re a little gun-shy after what happened last year. But Avery isn’t Orla. For one thing, she was up-front with you about her crush on Dash. You’ve known from the start there was always the possibility that she would choose him. But that it was worth the chance.”

Avery’s voice danced through his thoughts, her words from last night still clear as day. “I want you to remember that you are not second-rate. You are incredible.”

“It was. Is. She is,” Liam sputtered.

“Then man up and tell her how you feel. It was your kit she wore. It was you she asked to help her move. Not Dash.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the ding of the elevator. The doors slowly opened, revealing a bright-eyed, beaming Avery on the other side.

“Is that the last one?” she asked, holding out her hands to take the box from him. Liam refused to hand it off, stepping around her as he exited the lift.