Behind the Headlines
1356 Words
The remainder of Media Day passed in a blur of interviews, camera flashes, and carefully rehearshed answers.
Ava had long since perfected the art of separating the person from the profession.
An athlete smiled because the cameras were rolling.
A coach repeated the same optimistic phrases because sponsors expected confidence.
Every interview followed an invisible script.
Every answer had been polished before it was ever spoken.
Yet Liam…
Liam had always been terrible at following scripts.
He answered the questions he wanted to answer.
He ignored the ones he didn’t.
And somehow, every time she interviewed him, she walked away feeling as though he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.
She hated that she still understood him.
⸻
The practice rink was nearly empty by the time the final interviews wrapped.
Most of the players had already returned to the locker room.
Only a handful remained on the ice, taking extra shots before tomorrow night’s game.
Ava stood alone behind the glass, reviewing photos on her camera.
The familiar click of hockey pucks against the boards echoed through the arena.
She stopped on one photograph.
Liam.
Helmet tucked beneath one arm.
Head tilted back as he laughed at something a teammate had said.
It wasn’t the polished smile the media loved.
It wasn’t the confident grin he gave after scoring.
It was real.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him laugh like that.
Without realizing it, she smiled.
“You always take your best photos when you’re not trying.”
She looked up.
Ethan leaned casually against the railing beside her, a paper coffee cup warming his hands.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“You were concentrating.”
He glanced at the camera screen.
“Mind if I look?”
She handed it over.
He scrolled through the images slowly.
“These are good.”
“They’re usable.”
“They’re better than usable.”
He stopped on the photo of Liam laughing.
“This one’s different.”
Ava looked at the screen.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t look like Captain Hayes.”
She frowned.
“It looks like Liam.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Ethan looked at her.
“You still separate those two people.”
Ava folded her arms.
“Because they are different.”
“Were.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“They still are.”
She watched Liam skating lazy circles at center ice.
“The world knows Captain Hayes.”
A small smile touched her lips.
“I knew Liam.”
⸻
Out on the ice, Liam stayed long after practice officially ended.
Coach Daniels had already disappeared into the locker room.
Half the team had gone back to the hotel.
Still…
He skated.
Another slapshot.
Another lap.
Another shot.
The repetitive rhythm quieted his thoughts.
At least…
Usually.
Today wasn’t working.
Because every time he closed his eyes—
He saw Ava.
Laughing with Ethan.
Talking to Ethan.
Looking relaxed around Ethan.
The same ease she’d once had with him.
A puck ricocheted hard off the crossbar.
“Damn.”
“You planning to destroy my net?”
Liam turned.
Mason Carter, the Frosthawks’ veteran goaltender, rested his arms across the goal.
“Or just your stick?”
Liam exhaled quietly.
“Bad day.”
Mason laughed.
“You scored twice in practice.”
“I’m not talking about hockey.”
“I figured.”
Mason removed his mask.
“I’ve known you eight years.”
He nodded toward the media area.
“The reporter?”
Liam remained silent.
Mason smiled knowingly.
“So that’s her.”
Liam’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“The one.”
Liam frowned.
“What one?”
“The woman you’ve been pretending not to love.”
Silence.
Mason chuckled.
“I’ve never seen you look at anyone else the way you look at her.”
“I don’t—”
“You do.”
The goalie pushed himself away from the net.
“And before you deny it…”
He shrugged.
“…half the team already knows.”
Liam stared at him.
“What?”
“You think we’re blind?”
“No.”
“You’ve spent five years turning down every blind date the wives tried to set you up on.”
Liam looked away.
“You never brought anyone to team dinners.”
“You’ve never introduced a girlfriend.”
“You leave every charity gala the second it becomes personal.”
Mason smiled gently.
“We all figured there was someone.”
A pause.
“We just didn’t know she’d suddenly show up wearing a press credential.”
For once…
Liam had absolutely nothing to say.
⸻
Ava packed away her camera just as the arena began emptying.
She slung her bag over one shoulder and headed toward the parking lot where the team bus waited.
She’d almost reached the exit when someone called her name.
“Ava.”
She turned.
Coach Daniels approached with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
“Got a minute?”
“Of course.”
They walked slowly toward the arena entrance.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Finally, the coach broke the silence.
“How long have you known Liam?”
The question surprised her.
“A long time.”
“I guessed as much.”
She smiled politely.
“Was it that obvious?”
Coach Daniels laughed.
“Only to someone who’s coached him for seven years.”
Her smile faded.
“I’m sorry if this has become a distraction.”
“It hasn’t.”
He stopped walking.
“If anything…”
He looked back toward the ice.
“…I’ve seen him smile more this week than I have in years.”
Ava’s heart tightened.
“He smiles all the time.”
“No.”
Coach Daniels shook his head.
“Captain Hayes smiles.”
His voice softened.
“Liam hasn’t.”
The distinction hit her harder than she expected.
She remembered Ethan saying the exact same thing.
The world knew Captain Hayes.
She knew Liam.
Or…
She used to.
Coach Daniels studied her expression.
“You know…”
He smiled thoughtfully.
“The first year I coached him, I asked what he wanted most out of hockey.”
Ava looked up.
“What did he say?”
“‘To make someone proud.’”
She swallowed.
“He never said who.”
The coach looked directly at her.
“I don’t think he had to.”
The words hung in the cold parking lot air. Ava didn’t have the breath to answer. Before she could find it, Melissa called from across the pavement.
“There you are!”
Coach Daniels stepped back.
“I’ll let you get going.”
He smiled once more before walking away.
Ava remained where she was.
Frozen.
Because she suddenly remembered something she’d completely forgotten.
Years ago…
Back when Liam had just been drafted…
She’d stood outside his apartment before his first professional training camp.
She remembered the exact weight of his hand on her shoulder that night. The way his jacket smelled—cheap laundry detergent and nerves.
He’d looked terrified.
She’d laughed.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I think you’re going to make everyone proud.”
He’d smiled.
Then kissed her forehead.
“No.”
His voice had been so quiet she’d almost missed it.
“I only care about making one person proud.”
Back then, she’d laughed, terrified that if she took it seriously, it would be too much pressure for him to carry. Now, the memory felt less like a sweet promise and more like a ghost she’d been running from for five years.
She climbed onto the team bus, the warmth of the cabin hitting her like a physical blow.
Outside, the Boston snow began to blur the world into gray, but inside, her mind was crystal clear.
For the first time in five years, she wasn't just wondering why they ended—she was wondering if the story she’d been telling herself about their breakup was completely wrong.
- Writer
