Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 34: Chapter 34
You are reading Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player, Chapter 34: Chapter 34. Read more chapters of Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player.
EMILIA
Liam doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t loosen his grip, doesn’t even look back. He just pulls me through the chaos like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded. And maybe he is. The cameras flash, reporters shout, but all I can focus on is the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine.
We break through the crowd, and only then does he slow down. But his grip? Still firm. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
He turns to me, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself together. “If something is ever not okay,” he starts, voice low but edged with anger. Then he looks at me, and the anger melts into something else—something raw. “Tell me.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Liam shakes his head, his fingers tightening around mine. “You’re not going on this cruise alone, Emilia. I’m here. With you. So when something makes you uncomfortable, when you don’t like something—what’s the first thing you should do?”
My heart is still thump, thump, thumping in my chest. Too fast. Too loud. “Liam—”
“That’s not an answer.” His voice is firm, but his thumb brushes over my knuckles, gentle. “What’s the first thing you should do? Answer me.”
I swallow hard and lower my head. “Tell you.”
His grip softens. “Good.”
His voice drops even lower, but the promise in it is unshakable. “If you don’t want to see reporters, I’ll get rid of them. If my presence annoys you, I’ll step back. But if some asshole tries to tear you down—if his words make you feel like anything less than the incredible woman you are—then I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
The way he says it? Like it’s not even a question. Like it’s a fact.
Like there’s nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to protect me.
I know that can’t be true. I know Liam can’t protect me from everything. I know everything he does now is a nothing more than a contractual obligation. But still, my heart won’t slow down.
I nod, but it’s not enough for him. His eyes are locked on me, intense and unrelenting.
“Use your words, Emilia.” His voice is low, steady, but I can hear the frustration beneath it. Not at me—never at me. But at the situation, at the way I was just humiliated. “Do you understand me?”
I swallow, my throat dry. “Yes. I do.”
Liam exhales, his grip on my hand finally loosening—but his free hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is so careful, so deliberate, it makes my stomach flip.
“Good.” His voice is softer now, but there’s still an edge to it. A promise. “I got a good look at his face. He’ll be lucky if he ever gets to work again after that stunt he just pulled.”
I blink up at him, breath catching. “Liam, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” His jaw tightens. “Because no one gets to talk about you like that. No one.”
My heart is still racing, but this time? It has nothing to do with fear.
Liam’s voice is raw, almost desperate. “It’s my fucking fault things got to this point in the first place, and I’m so sorry, Em.” His grip on my hand tightens, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go.
I shake my head, but he doesn’t let me speak.
“I know you said you didn’t want to hear it,” he continues, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite place. Regret? Guilt? Something deeper? “But I’m so, so sorry. And I won’t let things stay this way.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. “So just squeeze my hand whenever things get too hard, and I’ll take care of it.”
I feel it then—the way he’s holding himself together just for me. The way his whole body is tense, like he’s barely keeping his anger in check. Like he’d do anything if it meant I wouldn’t have to hurt.
My chest tightens, my heart hammering.
It’s not fair. It really isn’t. This is nothing more than a game of pretend to Liam, but my heart doesn’t get the memo. It’s already rewriting the rules, already treating his words like they mean something more.
I don’t know what to say. So I do the only thing I can.
I squeeze his hand.
His fingers tighten around mine, just for a second, like he felt it too. Like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t all pretend to him either.
Before I can dwell on it, Florence is there, waiting at the dock, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Took you long enough,” she says, her sharp gaze flicking to the paparazzi still lingering behind us. “You okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure if I am. My heart is still pounding, my skin too warm where Liam’s holding me.
Liam doesn’t let go. “We need to board. Now.”
Florence sighs. “They’ve already started letting people on. Zane and his guests boarded first.” She hands us our passes, eyes narrowing slightly. “Try not to kill each other before we leave port, yeah?”
Liam doesn’t bother responding. He just grabs the tickets and pulls me toward the gangway like we’re running out of time.
The sight of Florence makes my stomach twist. It reminds me of Tessa. And that reminds me of the silence between us.
We haven’t spoken since I told her about Zane’s visit.
Not for my lack of trying. No, this silence was her choice. A deliberate effort to stay out of the house when she knew I’d be there. On days I stayed in, she made sure to be anywhere but home.
She was furious. Furious that I let Zane in. That I let him humiliate me, hurt me.
And maybe the worst part—the part that sits, heavy and unspoken in my chest—is that my first instinct was to lie to her about it. To act like I was fine. Like it hadn’t happened at all.
I only told her the truth when I realised I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
But by then, it was too late.
The cruise ship is massive—less like a boat, more like a floating palace. It’s so polished and grand that, for the first time, I wonder how much Zane and Becca spent to make it theirs for thirty days.
I expect to feel nervous, to panic now that I’m so close to seeing him again. But all I feel is disgust.
I remember the way his nails dragged against my skin. The way he shoved me so hard I hit the floor, how the knife nearby sliced my palm.
My skin heats with anger.
The way he spoke to me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t deserve to stand beside Liam.
Like I wasn’t good enough for him—so I couldn’t possibly be good enough for anyone else.
But here I am. And Liam is the one holding my hand, steady and sure.
Fake or not, I’m the one at his side. The one who’s here with him.
Zane can fume all he wants. But his obsession with Liam got him nowhere, and at the end of the cruise, it’s Becca who’s going to be waiting for him at the altar, not the hockey player he adores so much.
The thought makes me smile.
We step onto the deck. A waiter in a white uniform offers us champagne. I shake my head. Liam takes a glass but doesn’t drink, his eyes take a sweep around, scanning through the crowd.
The hostility in his eyes bleeds some of the tension out of my shoulders and I hold onto his hand tighter. He finally looks at me, there’s a soft look in his eyes. “Still okay?”
“As okay as I can be.”
“Good enough.”
We really are late.
There are about thirty guests on board already—some celebrities, a few guys from Zane’s team, and familiar faces from our past.
Over half of them know about Zane and me.
Maybe they even know exactly how little he thinks of me.
Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Our arrival doesn’t go unnoticed. A few guests make their way over to greet Liam, and by extension, me. I do my best to be polite, but my mind is elsewhere.
Liam must sense it because he effortlessly takes over the conversations, flashing that signature smile of his.
“It’s really great to see you, Calloway,” says Stone, a player for the Chicago Blizzards and one of Zane’s closest friends. He grins ear-to-ear at Liam, barely sparing me a glance.
I try not to let the blatant rudeness get to me.
“I’m a huge fan,” Stone adds.
Liam doesn’t return the smile. Instead, he narrows his eyes slightly, clicking his tongue. “Of course you are.”
Stone’s grin falters for half a second before he masks it, but not before throwing me a quick glare.
I almost laugh. What did I do?
“You’ve probably already seen Zane and Becca?” Stone continues, trying to recover. “Zane’s gonna be so starstruck when he sees—”
“Of course he will be,” Liam smoothly cuts him off. He lets go of my hand, sliding his arm around my waist instead, pulling me in close. Then, loud enough for Stone to hear, he leans in and murmurs, “Should we go greet the future newlyweds, love?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think about it, biting back a smile at the dumbstruck look on Stone’s face. “Do we have to?”
Liam chuckles, the sound low and warm. “If you don’t want to? Of course not.”
Then, without hesitation, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
Heat floods my cheeks.
I can feel Stone’s eyes burning into us, but I don’t care.
All I can focus on is the way Liam holds me like I’m the only person that matters.
It's fake, Emilia.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
Somehow, it feels more like I’m trying to convince myself that it’s the truth.
Cam’s words ring in my head over and over: “Pro tip: he's great at pretending. Absolutely top-tier boyfriend material. He'll even text you good morning like he means it.”
I barely have time to worry about it when in my peripheral vision, someone familiar catches my eye.
So familiar I barely have to look to know.
It’s the groom.
I plaster a fake smile on my face.
Liam doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t loosen his grip, doesn’t even look back. He just pulls me through the chaos like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded. And maybe he is. The cameras flash, reporters shout, but all I can focus on is the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine.
We break through the crowd, and only then does he slow down. But his grip? Still firm. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear.
He turns to me, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself together. “If something is ever not okay,” he starts, voice low but edged with anger. Then he looks at me, and the anger melts into something else—something raw. “Tell me.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Liam shakes his head, his fingers tightening around mine. “You’re not going on this cruise alone, Emilia. I’m here. With you. So when something makes you uncomfortable, when you don’t like something—what’s the first thing you should do?”
My heart is still thump, thump, thumping in my chest. Too fast. Too loud. “Liam—”
“That’s not an answer.” His voice is firm, but his thumb brushes over my knuckles, gentle. “What’s the first thing you should do? Answer me.”
I swallow hard and lower my head. “Tell you.”
His grip softens. “Good.”
His voice drops even lower, but the promise in it is unshakable. “If you don’t want to see reporters, I’ll get rid of them. If my presence annoys you, I’ll step back. But if some asshole tries to tear you down—if his words make you feel like anything less than the incredible woman you are—then I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
The way he says it? Like it’s not even a question. Like it’s a fact.
Like there’s nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to protect me.
I know that can’t be true. I know Liam can’t protect me from everything. I know everything he does now is a nothing more than a contractual obligation. But still, my heart won’t slow down.
I nod, but it’s not enough for him. His eyes are locked on me, intense and unrelenting.
“Use your words, Emilia.” His voice is low, steady, but I can hear the frustration beneath it. Not at me—never at me. But at the situation, at the way I was just humiliated. “Do you understand me?”
I swallow, my throat dry. “Yes. I do.”
Liam exhales, his grip on my hand finally loosening—but his free hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is so careful, so deliberate, it makes my stomach flip.
“Good.” His voice is softer now, but there’s still an edge to it. A promise. “I got a good look at his face. He’ll be lucky if he ever gets to work again after that stunt he just pulled.”
I blink up at him, breath catching. “Liam, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” His jaw tightens. “Because no one gets to talk about you like that. No one.”
My heart is still racing, but this time? It has nothing to do with fear.
Liam’s voice is raw, almost desperate. “It’s my fucking fault things got to this point in the first place, and I’m so sorry, Em.” His grip on my hand tightens, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go.
I shake my head, but he doesn’t let me speak.
“I know you said you didn’t want to hear it,” he continues, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite place. Regret? Guilt? Something deeper? “But I’m so, so sorry. And I won’t let things stay this way.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. “So just squeeze my hand whenever things get too hard, and I’ll take care of it.”
I feel it then—the way he’s holding himself together just for me. The way his whole body is tense, like he’s barely keeping his anger in check. Like he’d do anything if it meant I wouldn’t have to hurt.
My chest tightens, my heart hammering.
It’s not fair. It really isn’t. This is nothing more than a game of pretend to Liam, but my heart doesn’t get the memo. It’s already rewriting the rules, already treating his words like they mean something more.
I don’t know what to say. So I do the only thing I can.
I squeeze his hand.
His fingers tighten around mine, just for a second, like he felt it too. Like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t all pretend to him either.
Before I can dwell on it, Florence is there, waiting at the dock, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Took you long enough,” she says, her sharp gaze flicking to the paparazzi still lingering behind us. “You okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure if I am. My heart is still pounding, my skin too warm where Liam’s holding me.
Liam doesn’t let go. “We need to board. Now.”
Florence sighs. “They’ve already started letting people on. Zane and his guests boarded first.” She hands us our passes, eyes narrowing slightly. “Try not to kill each other before we leave port, yeah?”
Liam doesn’t bother responding. He just grabs the tickets and pulls me toward the gangway like we’re running out of time.
The sight of Florence makes my stomach twist. It reminds me of Tessa. And that reminds me of the silence between us.
We haven’t spoken since I told her about Zane’s visit.
Not for my lack of trying. No, this silence was her choice. A deliberate effort to stay out of the house when she knew I’d be there. On days I stayed in, she made sure to be anywhere but home.
She was furious. Furious that I let Zane in. That I let him humiliate me, hurt me.
And maybe the worst part—the part that sits, heavy and unspoken in my chest—is that my first instinct was to lie to her about it. To act like I was fine. Like it hadn’t happened at all.
I only told her the truth when I realised I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
But by then, it was too late.
The cruise ship is massive—less like a boat, more like a floating palace. It’s so polished and grand that, for the first time, I wonder how much Zane and Becca spent to make it theirs for thirty days.
I expect to feel nervous, to panic now that I’m so close to seeing him again. But all I feel is disgust.
I remember the way his nails dragged against my skin. The way he shoved me so hard I hit the floor, how the knife nearby sliced my palm.
My skin heats with anger.
The way he spoke to me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t deserve to stand beside Liam.
Like I wasn’t good enough for him—so I couldn’t possibly be good enough for anyone else.
But here I am. And Liam is the one holding my hand, steady and sure.
Fake or not, I’m the one at his side. The one who’s here with him.
Zane can fume all he wants. But his obsession with Liam got him nowhere, and at the end of the cruise, it’s Becca who’s going to be waiting for him at the altar, not the hockey player he adores so much.
The thought makes me smile.
We step onto the deck. A waiter in a white uniform offers us champagne. I shake my head. Liam takes a glass but doesn’t drink, his eyes take a sweep around, scanning through the crowd.
The hostility in his eyes bleeds some of the tension out of my shoulders and I hold onto his hand tighter. He finally looks at me, there’s a soft look in his eyes. “Still okay?”
“As okay as I can be.”
“Good enough.”
We really are late.
There are about thirty guests on board already—some celebrities, a few guys from Zane’s team, and familiar faces from our past.
Over half of them know about Zane and me.
Maybe they even know exactly how little he thinks of me.
Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Our arrival doesn’t go unnoticed. A few guests make their way over to greet Liam, and by extension, me. I do my best to be polite, but my mind is elsewhere.
Liam must sense it because he effortlessly takes over the conversations, flashing that signature smile of his.
“It’s really great to see you, Calloway,” says Stone, a player for the Chicago Blizzards and one of Zane’s closest friends. He grins ear-to-ear at Liam, barely sparing me a glance.
I try not to let the blatant rudeness get to me.
“I’m a huge fan,” Stone adds.
Liam doesn’t return the smile. Instead, he narrows his eyes slightly, clicking his tongue. “Of course you are.”
Stone’s grin falters for half a second before he masks it, but not before throwing me a quick glare.
I almost laugh. What did I do?
“You’ve probably already seen Zane and Becca?” Stone continues, trying to recover. “Zane’s gonna be so starstruck when he sees—”
“Of course he will be,” Liam smoothly cuts him off. He lets go of my hand, sliding his arm around my waist instead, pulling me in close. Then, loud enough for Stone to hear, he leans in and murmurs, “Should we go greet the future newlyweds, love?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think about it, biting back a smile at the dumbstruck look on Stone’s face. “Do we have to?”
Liam chuckles, the sound low and warm. “If you don’t want to? Of course not.”
Then, without hesitation, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
Heat floods my cheeks.
I can feel Stone’s eyes burning into us, but I don’t care.
All I can focus on is the way Liam holds me like I’m the only person that matters.
It's fake, Emilia.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
Somehow, it feels more like I’m trying to convince myself that it’s the truth.
Cam’s words ring in my head over and over: “Pro tip: he's great at pretending. Absolutely top-tier boyfriend material. He'll even text you good morning like he means it.”
I barely have time to worry about it when in my peripheral vision, someone familiar catches my eye.
So familiar I barely have to look to know.
It’s the groom.
I plaster a fake smile on my face.
End of Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Chapter 34. Continue reading Chapter 35 or return to Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player book page.