Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Liam gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles. The anger, the fire—I felt invincible a second ago, but now? Now, my hands feel ice cold.
“You okay?” Liam asks, voice low.
I nod. Then I lie. “Yeah.”
But when he tugs me closer, when I feel the warmth of him against me, something cracks deep inside my chest.
It’s not just the name-calling. It’s not just being labeled the hockey slut or called a puck bunny. It’s the way that’s all I’ve ever been treated like.
Wanting to stay by Zane’s side turned into years of watching my autonomy slip through my fingers, piece by piece. And I let it happen—because I was so convinced that the ring on my finger, his last name next to mine, would make it all worth it. That losing myself would somehow be worth it.
I didn’t want to be just Zane’s pocket girlfriend, always by his side, on every plane to his games, tucked away in every hotel room in case he needed a release.
It was so fucking exhausting.
Pretending to hate girls who went to clubs and danced like they didn’t have a care in the world—while I sat in my assigned seat, playing the role of the perfect girlfriend. Watching them live the life I had given up for someone who saw me as nothing.
And maybe the damage he did is worse than I realize.
Do I even like baking? Or did I just learn how because, in high school, a girl from the cheer team used to make Zane cookies? Because he’d sneak away with her to the bleachers, grinning like she had given him the world?
I used to wake up before my alarm, watching goddamn Food Network at sunrise, baking until my fingers hurt—just to be the one he smiled at like that.
And the worst part?
I don’t even know who I was before him. I only know the girl after him.
And that I don’t want to be the girl during him ever again.
When Stone tried to get me into his bed, it shattered something in me. Not just because of him, but because it confirmed what I’ve always feared—what I’ve always known.
That no matter what I do, no matter who I am, people will only ever see me as one thing.
A girl whose only purpose is to please the men around her.
Maybe the names they call me hurt so much because, deep down, I believe them.
Maybe I really am nothing but a doormat—meant to be walked over, never taken seriously. Never allowed to have my own dreams, my own wants, my own voice. Because I spent so many years trying to be the perfect wife for a man who never even saw me.
God.
I want to own an art gallery.
I want to grow out my curls and let them be wild.
I want to wear dresses that leave little to the imagination—just because I can. Just because I want to.
Just because.
I don’t know where Liam takes us. I don’t even realise we’re moving.
All I know is that I break down in his arms. And for the first time in forever—someone actually holds me together.
Liam doesn’t say anything. He just holds me. Like he’s trying to take every shattered piece and put it back where it belongs. Like he won’t let me slip through the cracks, even if I want to.
I press my face into his chest, my whole body shaking. He smells like salt and something warm, something safe. His hand moves up and down my back, slow and steady, like he’s trying to remind me how to breathe.
And for once, I don’t feel like I have to be anything. Not perfect. Not put together. Not somebody’s something.
Just me.
“I don’t want to be nothing,” I whisper. The words are barely there, but I know he hears them.
His arms tighten around me. “You’re everything.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers gripping his shirt. My mind wants to fight it—to tell me he’s just saying that because he’s contractually obligated to, because he feels bad. But there’s something about the way he says it. Like it’s a fact, like it’s obvious.
Like I’ve been everything all along.
I pull back slightly, just enough to look at him. His eyes are burning, his jaw tight, and I realise—he’s angry. Not at me. At everyone else. At Zane. At Stone. At anyone who’s ever made me feel small.
His hands move to cup my face, thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t even realise were still falling.
“Whoever made you think you’re nothing,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “they’re fucking blind.”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped inside me for years.
I force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “You’re what you let people think you are, right?” The words taste bitter, like I’ve swallowed something I was never meant to.
Liam doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even blink. His grip on my waist tightens just slightly, like he’s trying to keep me grounded. “No.” His voice is steady, so certain it makes me look into his light blue eyes. They’re smiling at me. “You’re who you are. Nothing else. Nothing more. Whatever anyone thinks? That’s their problem. Only the truth matters.”
His eyes burn into mine, and for a second, I swear he’s trying to will the words into my bones. Like if he says it enough, I’ll believe it.
I want to. God, I want to.
But the world has spent so long convincing me I’m something I never wanted to be. A shadow of someone else. A background character in my own life.
“Then tell me,” I whisper, barely breathing. “What’s the truth?”
Liam leans in, his forehead almost touching mine, his hands steady and warm on my waist. “That you’re stronger than you think.” His voice drops lower, softer, but there’s an edge to it—like he’s daring me to believe him. “That you’re not what they made you. That you’re yours.”
His thumb brushes against my hip, and I swear the whole world tilts.
And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel lost.
Liam wipes away the last of my tears with his thumb, his touch so gentle it makes my chest ache. He’s looking at me like I’m something delicate, something worth holding onto, and it’s almost too much. I barely stop myself from running.
His smile is soft but knowing. “I’ll ask again. Answer honestly this time. You okay?”
I swallow, forcing a little nod. “Yeah.”
His brows lift. “What did I just say, Emilia?”
My lips twitch despite myself. “I’ll be much better if we get something to eat.”
He hums, like he’s considering it. “Something with rice, maybe? And then for dessert—so much sugar it’ll definitely give you diabetes.”
I giggle, nudging him with my shoulder. “You know me so well, Calloway.”
He grins, tugging me a little closer as we walk. “Of course I do. I like knowing you.”
And just like that, my heart isn’t breaking anymore. It’s fluttering.