Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 90: Chapter 90

LIAM
The cops take our statements, asking just enough questions to piece together what happened. By the time they’re satisfied, they let us know we might be called down to the station later for a full report.
Then they’re gone.
Oldie shuts the place down early — not that he had much choice. Most people cleared out the moment the screaming started. Honestly, I’ll be surprised if this doesn’t make headlines by morning.
I hang back and watch Emilia with Oldie for a while, the phone pressed to my ear. She catches my eye once or twice, offering me small, shaky smiles. Oldie’s leaning on her more than he probably means to, one hand pressed to his back, clearly in pain, but she says nothing — just lets him lean. Quiet strength. That’s what comes to my mind every time I think of her.
I look away. The rage simmers again.
The line finally picks up.
“Li?” Jessica’s voice is soft. Cautious. A little hoarse. “Is it really you?”
I glance back at Emilia, who’s helping Oldie settle into one of the chairs by the prize counter, pretending not to notice the wince he tries to hide. My chest pulls tight. I force the words out.
“Jess,” I say. “The guy— the stalker you told me about months ago. The one who used to follow you, cross-dressing to get close. You said he just… disappeared. You never figured out what happened to him?”
She’s quiet for a beat too long. Then laughs — dry and brittle. “Is it bad I thought maybe you were calling to say you missed me? That you woke up realising I was the love of your life?”
“Jessica—”
“My therapist told me to stop holding you accountable for my delusions,” she cuts in. “She’s great, by the way. Thanks for recommending her. She's got a real talent for kicking my emotional teeth in.”
A pause. Then, softer: “After everything blew up — with the cheating rumours and me heading off to film in Mexico — I never saw him again. I honestly thought you’d… handled it somehow. Or that maybe he lost interest. But I never knew for sure.”
I drag a hand through my hair. Emilia laughs at something Oldie says, and it pulls my eyes back to her. Her face lights up. So does something in my chest. “I found him,” I say. “He’s in custody now.”
Silence.
Then a sharp inhale, like she’s been holding her breath without realising. “You’re serious?”
“He followed Emilia. Tried to get to her in the bathroom. He had a knife, too.” My throat tightens. “He thinks she ruined your life. That I should’ve stayed with you. He tried to hurt her because he thought I hurt you.”
Another silence. Then I hear it — her sniffling quietly on the other end.
“He really… he’s really going to jail?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say. “And I’m sorry. For not taking him more seriously back then. For not protecting you the way I could’ve. I can’t imagine what it felt like — being scared to look out your window at night, scared to call the cops in case it made him worse. I should’ve done more.”
She lets out a soft, broken sound. “You did what you could. And now he’s gone. Thank you.”
I close my eyes. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know,” she says. “But I needed to hear that.”
I glance at Emilia again. Her eyes meet mine — steady, warm, unwavering.
And suddenly I’m certain of two things:
I couldn’t protect Jessica back then.
But I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt Emilia.
Not again.
Which is why, as much as it twists something raw inside me, I say it.
“This should be the end, Jess.”
A pause. Then, panicked— “What? W–what are you talking about?”
“You’re doing better now. You’ve got your footing. You don’t need to backslide into the way things were. You don’t need me anymore. I think it’s time we finally let go — for good.”
There’s silence on her end, the kind that tightens my chest. Then: “You’re really doing this over the phone?” Her voice breaks. “Liam, please — just tell me what I did. I’ll apologise, I’ll fix it. Don’t do this. Don’t throw me away.”
“Did you tell Mar that I’m Rowland’s father?” My voice is colder than I mean for it to be, but I can’t afford softness right now. “Because there’s no way Oldie found out on his own.”
She goes quiet. That tells me everything.
My jaw tightens. “Why would you do that, Jessica?”
“I— I’m sorry, okay?” Her voice cracks under the weight of it. “It isn’t new—I told him years ago, back before I started getting help. I was spiralling, and I needed someone to talk to. You know how I was back then, Liam. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear—”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “It doesn’t matter.” Maybe it never did. “You told me once you don’t need saving anymore — and you were right. But the truth is… that’s all we ever were. Me trying to fix you. You needing someone to cling onto. And when you stopped needing that…”
I trail off, breath catching.
“You didn’t know what to be anymore.”
There’s a long pause. Then, softly: “So that’s it?”
“No,” I say. “There’s one more thing.”
I swallow. “I want my best friend back.”
She doesn’t speak, but I press on. “I shouldn’t have had to give him up just because I cared about you. That was never fair. To me, or to him. Or to you, if I’m being honest. All we’ve done is make each other smaller, and I’m tired of shrinking to fit a version of us that doesn’t exist anymore.”
She lets out a quiet sob — muffled, like she’s covering her mouth to stop it from spilling out.
“I love you, Jess,” I say softly. And it’s the truth. Maybe not the kind of love she’s always wanted from me, but something real all the same.
“I love yo—”
“I know,” I cut in, gently. “But I’ll never be able to love you the way you need me to. And I’m so damn tired of carrying that guilt — like I owe you a kind of love I just don’t have to give.” To you.
I take a breath, steadying my voice.
“It’s my fault you got hurt. I own that. All of it. But I can’t keep being the reason we stay stuck in this cycle. I won’t keep bleeding for something we both know isn’t healing either of us.”
A beat.
“I’m sorry, Jess.”
She doesn’t say goodbye.
But she doesn’t need to.
I end the call, and the silence that follows isn’t peaceful — but it’s honest.
When I finally head over to Emilia and Oldie, they’re mid-conversation, and whatever they’re talking about has her grinning.
“Your lost love… looked just like Liam?” she teases.
Oldie glares at her, appalled. “Don’t you dare reduce my Tuli to that. She had class. She had soul. She did not have those ridiculous eyes.”
Emilia’s lips twitch. “I think Liam’s eyes are pretty gorgeous.”
“They belong to the man who stole her from me,” he snaps, yanking his gaze away from her like she’s betrayed him on a spiritual level. “I thought you were different. But you’re just like the rest.”
“Well… Liam does have great hair.”
Oldie’s expression softens instantly, a smug little smile curling his lips. “You’re right. I always knew you had taste, Emilia.”
I slide in next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing my face into her neck, breathing her in. She giggles, tipping her head slightly, and I have to fight the urge to trace my mouth along her throat. But Oldie’s here. So. No.
“My mother’s never been interested, Oldie,” I say, smirking. “So if anything, you’re the one trying to steal my dad’s wife.”
Oldie recoils like I slapped him. “You dare mention that thief in my presence?”
I laugh. “My deepest apologies.”
He scowls. “Accepted. Barely.”
After some lingering conversation and too many smart-ass remarks, Emilia and I say our goodbyes. Oldie waves us off from the entrance of his arcade, muttering something about the unbearable nature of young love.
“If you don’t visit more often,” he calls, “I’ll call your mother.”
I lean in to fasten Emilia’s seatbelt, then glance over my shoulder with a smirk. “You just want an excuse to hear her voice.”
He grins, unbothered. “Damn right I do. Put in a good word for me next time you visit.”
Which I won’t. But still, I say, “Sure, old man.”
Emilia’s smiling now, soft and genuine. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride home? We’re not in a rush.”
Oldie waves a hand and starts back toward the building. “I might look like a skeleton in a tracksuit, but I’m sturdy. I’ll be just fine. You two take care of yourselves, alright? No breaking each other’s hearts. And no secrets.”
I catch the way his gaze lingers on me with that last line, and it lands.
“Alright, alright,” I call. “I’ll come by soon. Don’t work yourself into an early grave.”
“Not before I marry your mother,” he shouts back without missing a beat.
I start the car. Oldie waves until we turn the corner.
Emilia’s already fiddling with the radio, skipping every halfway decent song until she lands on some off-brand emo rap.
“Christ.”
“You could try judging me just a little less.”
“Never.”
I glance at her — face half-lit by the streetlights, fingers tapping idly on her thigh — and it takes everything in me not to lean over and kiss her until she forgets her own name. But I rein it in.
Instead, I say, “I think it’s time I told you about Jessica.”