Font Size:

Page 102 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

“We don’t exactly talk anymore.” Asher sounded distant.

I sensed there was more to the story, so I remained quiet.

I was right.

“I signed with Holchester when I was seventeen. I was so damn excited. We went out to celebrate, but I left early because I had a meeting with Holchester’s manager the next morning. Teddy chose to stay, and I remember thinking, good for him. He needed to loosen up a bit, you know?” Asher’s laugh sounded hollow. “We went to a pub in a seedier part of town since it was the only one that didn’t ID us since we were underage. Teddyleft maybe an hour after I did. He was on his way to the bus stop when he got mugged.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, already dreading the conclusion to the story.

“It must’ve been the liquid courage, but Teddy refused to give up his wallet. He got into a fight with the mugger, who stabbed him six times and ran away. Teddy didn’t even make it to the hospital.”

I saw it coming, but that didn’t stop my lurch of shock.Stabbed six times. Jesus.

“One minute, he was there. The next, he was gone. And all these years, I can’t help but think…would he be alive if I’d stayed with him? If I’d insisted he leave when I did?” Asher’s voice thickened. “He wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t,” I said so fiercely I surprised myself. “It’s not your fault. It’s the mugger’s fault. You didn’t make him a thief, and you didn’t make him commit violence. What happened is on him. Not you.”

Asher released a shaky exhale.

“I know. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.” He turned his head a fraction, just enough to meet my eyes. “There’s a part of me that feels like I owe it to him to win. Like if I don’t succeed, his death would’ve been for nothing. It’s irrational because the two have no direct correlation, but people aren’t always rational, are they?”

“No,” I said softly. “But not everything needs to be rational to be true.”

Long-repressed emotion leaked into Asher’s eyes.

That morning, he said he liked seeing the unguarded version of me. The reverse was also true.

This was the Asher the world didn’t get to see. The raw, vulnerable one who hurt andfeltlike everyone else.

Part of me was glad they couldn’t access this version of him. If they did, they’d break him the way they’d broken everything else, hammering and hounding until they molded him into who they wanted him to be instead of who he was.

He didn’t deserve that, and they didn’t deserve him.

“There goes my maudlin talk again. You asked about my childhood, and I gave you a sob story.” His warm breath brushed my lips in apology. “I should take you to an ice cream shop or something so your visit isn’t all doom and gloom.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t come for the ice cream.”

I came for you.

Asher swallowed hard again.

Our chests rose and fell in sync, our breaths mingling softly in the universe of unspoken words between us.

The last time we shared a bed, we’d had sex, but this was a different type of intimacy. Gentler, less tangible but no less important, and rooted in fragile, blossoming trust.

Asher tore his eyes away from mine and faced forward again. But when our hands grazed on the bed, I didn’t pull away, and when I curled my pinky around his, he squeezed mine in return.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

Sometimes, actions were enough.

CHAPTER 26

SCARLETT

After a quick meal at his parents’ house, Asher and I returned to the hospital with food and a change of clothes for his mother. Thankfully, his father’s condition remained stable, but we stayed for the weekend anyway.

We checked into a local luxury hotel, and their VIP services team escorted us directly to our suite without tipping off the other guests that we were there. We were both so exhausted we fell asleep almost immediately.




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books