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Vicky
I've drunk too much.
I don't know why I let myself get this drunk, but as soon as I step out onto the balcony and the cool air hits me, I feel worse. Why, oh why, did I open that new bottle of wine?
It's fucking freezing out here, and I'm shivering, regretting not bringing that blanket from the back of the couch, but it'll be awkward if I go back in now; I've already attracted too much attention today thanks to my inability to tone down my voice.
The door creaks open, and I glance back, locking eyes with Liam. He's always been broad-shouldered and muscular, which suits his six-foot-three frame. He's worked hard to maintain the hockey player physique that the game demands of a professional.
He pulls his hoodie over his head and hands it to me without saying a word, allowing me to inhale his delicious scent. It's familiar, it's enchanting, and it's
home.
He nods at the chairs against the wall, and we sit down. He moves in close, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and I lean my head into him.
I don't know why we're doing this. We should be so angry with each other now, not snuggling up on the balcony of his twin brothers' apartment, but here we are— freezing cold and snuggled up.
"You good?" he asks. I've missed his voice. I've missed him.
It's been weird between us for a few months, and all the built-up emotion flooded out as soon as he walked in today. He wasn't due to arrive until tomorrow, by all accounts, but I didn't even know he was coming.
I wanted to shout, kick, scream, but I just hugged him instead, a hug that probably lasted too long, a hug I didn't even realise I needed until we were in the moment.
I take a deep breath before replying, "Sure."
I'm not, really. The past few months have been tough, and I don't know how I feel.
After I called our wedding off, he went on a bit of a tangent again, by all accounts, just like he did the first time we split up after college.
Instagram blew up with new photos of him and his hookups, and he utterly detached from me. Nothing less than I deserved, though, because it was all my fault.
'You're the one who called our wedding off, Vic.'
The message is burnt into my brain. He'd tried to call me, but I was too upset, too furious with myself for everything, and since then, things have been frosty.
I turn to face him. "I can't believe you're here. I thought you were done speaking to me."
Instead, he doesn't say anything, becoming very interested in his calloused hands.
"I'm sorry," I say.
Still, he says nothing, only nibbling on his thumbnail.
I can tell he's thinking now, and as soon as he drops his hand, he spits out a question which hits me hard in the chest.
"Was there someone else?" he asks, pausing momentarily before following up, "Is there someone else? Did you meet someone else, Vic?" He spins his head to look at me, his beautiful hazel eyes full of sorrow.
My heart sinks. How dare he put me in the same category as my dad. Granted, he was a serial cheat, but still.
"No. There's never been anyone else," I answer honestly.
Yeah, I slept with a few other guys when we'd split up first, after college, but I haven't not slept with anyone since Liam about six months ago.
The guys I did sleep with were all a waste of time. No one came even remotely close to Liam; I was always left wanting and frustrated, falling back on my private videos of Liam from his first year of college when I was back in Abbotsford for my last year of school.
"What was it then? I want to hear it," he asks.
I get to my feet, slightly unsteady. "I got scared."
"Scared? Scared of what?" His voice raises slightly, but he stays seated.
I gulp, ready to expose myself. "Scared of you realising I'm not worth sticking around for and having you leave me just like everyone else does." As soon as the words are out, I feel embarrassed at my admission. When my dad decided he wanted to fuck about instead of work on his marriage to my mom, my brother Johnny and I became accessories in whatever game they were playing. Johnny would be at hockey practise with Liam and his twin, Ryan. I would be forced to sit in the diner of the rink waiting for the handover from dad to mom, one massive inconvenience to my dad, who was keen to get rid of me, or so it felt.
Lee's quiet and still, probably processing what I just said. Tears stream down my cheeks. God knows what fucking state I'm in. Am I wearing waterproof? I can't remember.
"Vic," Liam swallows. He's never been good at relaying his emotions, but I keep quiet, giving him time to get his words out. "The only time I ever actually left you was for college, but that was temporary. You broke my heart."
I know for a fact that I've broken his heart twice. The first time, when he got signed to Toronto after college, I told him to go and forget about me. I told him I didn't want him anymore. This was also around the same time his mom got sick, and I still haven't gotten over that either. I felt closer to his mom than I ever did to mine. I'd watched his dad crash and burn when his mom was ill, and I didn't want the same for us.
"And I still couldn't let you go, letting you break my heart all over again when you called off our wedding," he says. "If anything, this should prove I won't fucking leave you."
He's right, but there's no such thing as a happy ending, is there?
"It didn't take you long to move on," I snap, referring to his Instagram feed. "You couldn't have been that broken hearted."
I don't think that was the right thing to say. Liam's nostrils flair, and he stands up, moving toward the balcony railing where his hands grip the bar, turning his knuckles white.
He's still momentarily before scoffing, "Yeah, right. What do you think happened, Vic?" He releases his grip and walks toward me. "I couldn't have you thinking I sat at home wallowing between games and training. It was all a fucking show."
A show? "Do you realise how that makes me feel?"
"You've broken my heart twice. Twice, Vicky." He glares at me. I can see the sadness in his eyes. "How do you think that makes me feel?"
I can't answer him. It'll turn into a battle of 'who's more brokenhearted,' and there's no way either of us will back down. Liam is too stubborn, and I'm too much of a control freak.
I half expect him to start yelling at me, telling me he doesn't want to see me, despises me, or whatever, but he doesn't. He's looking at his runners, deep in thought.
"I'm sorry--" I lean in and press my lips softly against his cheek. I expect him to push me away, but his arms clamp around me, pinning me into him.
"See, even now, I want to push you away, not let you in, but I can't. You're like a fucking drug, Vic. I can't get enough, but I can't let you do that to me again. One minute you want to get married. The next, it's off. The next, you're calling me for phone sex. It's messed up."
Yes, shit. The phone sex. He's right again. It is messed up, but he's the only person I've ever wanted. Now he's holding me close, and it's another reminder that I've missed this. The safety and security of Liam James Preston. The only person who's ever looked at me as a complete person, not an extension of Johnny and not an inconvenience as my parents did. I've been a complete fucking idiot.
"You've given me a fucking boner, you know," he scoffs. "That damn perfume of yours and your hair—" I swear he sniffs my hair, but he always has done.
My brother, Johnny, pokes his head out the apartment door. "You guys okay?" he's looking at Liam, not me.
Liam nods, and I tell him we're fine.
"Everyone's leaving now. Jen and Ryan have already gone to bed," Johnny adds. I'd forgotten we were supposed to be at a Christmas Eve-Eve party with the rest of Johnny and Ryan's hockey team.
"We'll be in soon," Liam says, his arms still wrapped around me.
Johnny slips back inside, and the door closes with a light
thud.
The thought of him leaving me now is too much to bear. "Come to mine?" I ask, and he nods slowly, giving me a squeeze.
"Told you, you're like a fucking drug, baby girl."
He takes a step back and holds his hand out to me. I take it, letting him lead the way.
Liam
Vicky Koenig will be the death of me. She'll either break my heart again, which I'm sure I won't be able to stand or she'll break my heart again.
I've somehow convinced her to come skating, and seeing the look on her face, a look of pure joy as she glides across the smooth surface, I know I'm in trouble because I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be socialising with her.
She's soaring toward me, her beautiful blonde hair rippling behind her, and my Marlies toque pulled over her ears. She stops right before me, her palms resting on my chest.
"Why aren't you skating?" she asks, moving her hands to grab onto my biceps. I get a whiff of her Chanel perfume and the sweetness of her shampoo, and it makes my stomach clench with excitement; I'll be taking that toque home because it'll smell like her.
"I was watching you," I say because when Vicky is around, she's all I can focus on.
It's always been the same. Since I first laid eyes on Vicky, I've known deep down that she'll either make or break me, and right now, she's fucking breaking me.
The first time I saw her, I almost landed flat on my ass because I wasn't watching where I was skating and bumped into her brother, Johnny. She's had the same effect on me ever since, even though I should tell her I won't let her break my heart again.
"Come on," she says, pulling my arm lightly. I follow her like the lovesick fool that I am.
Vicky told me she hasn't skated since I last took her, which was too long ago for me to recount when. She had a fall a few years back and is adamant now that she'll only skate with me. This makes me feel like I'm a fucking hero or something.
I skate a lot faster than Vicky, but I slow my pace right down so she's directly next to me, our hands linked, just like when we were kids.
I watch my brother and his girlfriend, Jenna, skating like a couple of kids too, giggling and chasing each other, similar to how Vicky and I were, always horsing around.
I take a chance and reach down, putting my right arm at the back of her knees and my left arm at the small of her back. I lift her up, and she squeals and kicks, but as soon as I've slung her over my shoulder, she lets up and giggles.
"You're a doofus," she chuckles.
I do a few laps at speed this time, and Vicky squeals with joy. It's my favourite sound, and it breaks my heart that this temporary bubble we're in will soon fucking pop and leave a horrible stain in its place.
I skate over to the benches and put her down, standing over her.
"What the hell are we going to do, Vic?" I've got my serious face on. I'm not messing around this time.
