Echoes of Us
1166 Words
The ride back to the hotel was unusually quiet.
Most of the players had fallen asleep after the long day of interviews and practice. A few sat near the back of the bus watching game footage on their tablets, while others listened to music through noise-canceling headphones.
The low hum of the engine filled the silence.
Ava sat by the window, absentmindedly tracing the outline of the snowflakes melting against the glass.
She barely noticed the city passing outside.
Coach Daniels’ words refused to leave her mind.
“Captain Hayes smiles.”
“Liam hasn’t.”
She’d spent five years convincing herself Liam had moved on.
That hockey had become his entire world.
That she was simply…
A chapter he’d outgrown.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
⸻
“You’ll stare a hole through the window if you keep that up.”
Ava turned.
Ethan stood in the aisle, balancing two paper cups.
“Peace offering.”
He handed one to her.
She smiled gratefully.
“I owe you.”
“You’ve said that three times this week.”
“And?”
“I’m starting to think you never intend to pay me back.”
She laughed softly.
“I’ll buy lunch.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He slipped into the empty seat across the aisle.
For a while, they drank their coffee in companionable silence.
Then Ethan spoke again.
“Can I ask you something?”
She sighed dramatically.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I’ll take that as permission.”
She looked at him over the rim of her cup.
“What is it?”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
He hesitated.
“When you look at Liam…”
He searched for the right words.
“…what do you see?”
The question caught her completely off guard.
She looked toward the front of the bus.
Liam sat several rows ahead, headphones resting around his neck as he reviewed game footage on his tablet.
Focused.
Composed.
Exactly the captain everyone admired.
Ava looked away.
“I see someone who worked incredibly hard for everything he has.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She smiled faintly.
“I know.”
Ethan waited patiently.
Finally…
“I see the boy who used to eat instant noodles five nights a week because he insisted every extra dollar should go toward new hockey equipment.”
A smile tugged at her lips.
“I see someone who’d wake up at five every morning to practice before class.”
She laughed quietly.
“I still remember him falling asleep in economics because he’d been skating until midnight.”
Ethan listened without interrupting.
“The world sees Captain Hayes.”
Her voice softened.
“I still remember Liam before anyone knew his name.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling until the smile disappeared.
“And that’s what makes this so difficult.”
⸻
Several rows ahead, Liam wasn’t watching game footage anymore.
The tablet screen had gone dark minutes ago.
He couldn’t hear every word of Ava and Ethan’s conversation.
But he heard enough.
The world sees Captain Hayes.
He closed his eyes.
She still remembered.
⸻
The bus pulled into the hotel entrance just after sunset.
Snow continued to fall, covering the sidewalks in a thin layer of white.
Players climbed off one by one, disappearing into the warmth of the lobby.
Ava lingered near the entrance, adjusting the strap of her camera bag before following the others inside.
“Miss Bennett?”
She turned.
One of the hotel concierges approached with a small envelope.
“This was left for you.”
She frowned.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“There wasn’t a name.”
Curious, she thanked him and stepped aside.
The envelope was plain.
No handwriting.
No return address.
Inside was a single laminated pass.
FAMILY ACCESS
She blinked.
Attached was a handwritten note.
Thought this might help you get the story you’re looking for.
Nothing else.
No signature.
She turned the card over.
Blank.
“What is that?”
Melissa appeared beside her.
Ava showed her the pass.
Melissa’s eyes widened.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was left at the desk.”
Melissa looked genuinely surprised.
“Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“That’s a family credential.”
Ava frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It gives access to areas the media can’t enter.”
She looked up.
“Players’ family lounge.”
“Post-game waiting area.”
“Private team events.”
Ava stared at the pass.
“Media never gets these.”
"Ava, if you use this, you aren't just a reporter anymore. You're insider status. The other journalists will eat you alive if they find out you have one of these. This is basically handing them a headline that says you’re 'connected' to him."
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Who would leave this?”
Melissa slowly looked toward the elevators.
Liam had just stepped inside with several teammates.
The elevator doors closed.
Neither woman said a word.
But they were thinking the same thing.
⸻
Later that night…
Ava stood alone in her bedroom, turning the credential over in her hands.
She should return it.
She knew that.
Accepting special access crossed every professional boundary she’d spent years building.
And yet…
She couldn’t stop thinking about the note.
The story you’re looking for.
A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts.
Three gentle taps.
She already knew who it was.
“Liam?”
Silence.
Then his voice came through the door.
“I just wanted to make sure you got back safely.”
She closed her eyes.
He wasn’t asking to come in.
He wasn’t breaking her boundaries.
He was simply checking.
The way he always used to.
“I’m fine.”
A long pause followed.
“Good.”
She pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door, her breath hitching.
The wood was the only thing between them—a thin, physical manifestation of the boundary she’d insisted on.
He was standing on the other side, just a few inches away, but the distance between them felt like miles.
She held her breath, waiting for him to knock again, for him to break the rules, to say something—anything—that would give her an excuse to turn the handle.
Instead, she heard the soft, retreating sound of his footsteps down the hall.
Ava waited until she could no longer hear them before opening the door.
The hallway was empty.
She looked toward his bedroom door at the opposite end of the suite.
Closed.
Always respecting the distance she’d asked for.
Her fingers tightened around the family credential.
Something told her that whoever had left it wasn’t trying to blur the line between journalist and former lover.
They were trying to show her a side of Liam Hayes…
…that Captain Hayes never allowed the world to see.
- Writer
