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Page 176 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

“It’s in a parent’s nature to worry.” Nevertheless, my father didn’t press the subject. “If the attention gets to be too much, or if you need a break from the city, you can always come and stay with me. Paris is better than London, anyway.”

Another smile flickered over my mouth. “Thank you. I’ll visit you soon. Just…just not now, okay?” I couldn’t run away to France and pretend my problems didn’t exist, no matter how much I wanted to.

We spoke for another few minutes before I hung up, took a deep breath, and called my mother. As expected, she was beside herself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said after I gave her the same summary I gave my father. She sounded like she’d been crying. “I know how much the showcase means to you, and youknowhow thrilled I am that you’re dancing again, but you have to take care of yourself. I’m not in London anymore to watch over you, and I just…” I could practically hear her shaking her head as she sniffled. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

“Trust me. I’ve learned my lesson,” I said. I hated making her worry, but I also hated how everyone in my family infantilized me sometimes. “I know better than to push myself that hard in the future.”

There was a long silence before my mother spoke again. “Are you sure you want to stay in the showcase? Perhaps it would be better if…” She trailed off, but her sentiment was clear.

I sat up straighter, my heartbeat quickening. My mother had always been my biggest supporter when it came to ballet. She’d been devastated when my doctors said I’d never dance professionally again, and I knew part of her secretly hoped I’d make some sort of miraculous recovery so my career could pick up where I’d left off.

For her to suggest I pull out of the showcase…she reallywasworried. I should’ve known when she didn’t even bring up Asher. Normally, my love life was at the forefront of her mind.

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice firm. “It’s only a few months away. I can do this. I have to.”

If I quit, all my hard work would’ve been for nothing. I would’ve beenhospitalizedfor nothing. I refused to let that happen, especially when there was so much riding on my performance. I needed to prove to myself I could do it, if only for one last time.

“Alright.” My mother must’ve heard the determination in my voice because she didn’t argue. However, her sigh contained a multitude of worries. “Justpromiseme you’ll take better care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” I said as the bathroom door opened and Asher stepped out. I gave him a small smile, which he returned. “I promise.”

ASHER

To say Coach was angry was like saying Mount Etna got a little spicy sometimes. He was, to put it simply, livid.

It was the Monday after the Holchester match. Scarlett and I were still camped out in the Ashworth’s presidential suite, and when I’d arrived at Blackcastle’s training grounds, the paps were already out in full force. I’d have to pull MI5-worthy maneuvers after practice to ensure they didn’t tail me back to the hotel.

However, I’d rather deal with the paparazzi than endure Coach’s wrath.

I didn’t know a face could turn so many shades of red in so little time, but he proved my previous understanding of biology wrong. When it reached a particularly fascinating hue of magenta, I worried I’d have to add killing my coach to the list of grievances certain members of the public had against me.

“You donotskip matches to see your girlfriend!” The vein in his temple throbbed so furiously I half expected it to pop out, reach across the table, and strangle me. “Of all the bloodystupid, reckless things you’ve done, that has to take the fucking cake!”

“She was in the hospital.” I defended myself as much as I dared. I understood why he was upset, but it wasn’t like I’d skipped the match to frolic on the beach. I had a good reason. “I got the call right before the match, and I had to make a split-second decision. If it was your daughter in the hospital, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?”

I wanted to snatch back the last sentence before it even left my mouth. Coach was extremely protective of Brooklyn, and referencing her in any way while he was in a rage was probably not my best idea.

A thundercloud darkened his face. “Whatdid you just say?”

I blanched. “I mean, it was an emergency, sir,” I amended. “I’m sorry I missed the match, but I wouldn’t have done it unless it was important.”

Thankfully, none of the tabloids had reported on the reason for Scarlett’s hospitalization. To me, the reason was important, but I suspected Coach didn’t think it was serious since she’d been discharged after an overnight stay. Hell, he wouldn’t consider anything short of near-death serious. However, he couldn’tproveit.

Judging by the tic in his jaw, he’d come to the same conclusion, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“Next time,” he said. “Youcall me, andyoutell me what the bloody hell is happening. I don’t want to hear it from your fancy-ass publicist.”

Was that it? Was he about to let me off the hook?

I held my breath. “Yes, sir.”

“Now.” Coach’s glare pinned me like a flailing bug to my chair.Shit. Not off the hook after all. “Can you explain whybothmy captain and my lead striker walked into practice today looking like they lost a round in an MMA fight?”

I forced myself not to touch my cut lip. The paps had, of course, caught wind of our injuries when we arrived at the training grounds. They were probably spinning salacious tales about our fight over Scarlett at that very moment.

They wouldn’t be wrong, but I wasn’t going to regale Coach with the ugly details from Saturday.




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