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Page 186 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

“We’ll be here if you need us,” Carina said, squeezing my arm.

I nodded, my heart wobbling as I walked into the hospital suite.

I’d seen the inside of a hospital more times in the past four months than I had in years, and I was sick of it. Sick of the smell, sick of the way the nurses’ shoes squeaked against the linoleum floors, sick of the oppressive cloud of anticipatory dread that drifted through the hallways like a deathly specter.

However, any negative feelings I had toward the space vanished at the sight of Asher sitting, alive and whole, less thanfive feet away. Like Vincent warned, he was scratched up with cuts and bruises, but he wasthere.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes.

“Hi, darling.” His mouth tipped up at the corner. “I wish you would’ve called and told me you were coming first. I’m not looking my best at the moment.”

The tears spilled down my cheeks as I choked out a noise of half anger, half amusement. “Asher Donovan, now isnotthe time to make jokes.”

His face softened. “I know. I’m sorry.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I was by his side in an instant, my face pressed into his neck while he held me tight. Sobs wracked my body as the tears fell in a constant rain.

BREAKING: Asher Donovan rushed to hospital after car crash in north London.

I didn’t have proper words to describe the emotions that engulfed me when I first saw the headline. I’dneverexperienced such cold, visceral terror, not even when I sat in the back of a taxi and saw another car barreling toward me at sixty miles an hour.

If I died, I had the relief of oblivion. I wouldn’t experience pain or sadness; I would simply begone.

But if someone I loved died, I’d have to live without them forever. The pain of that would eclipse anything else I’d ever felt—especially if that someone was Asher.

Because I didn’t just love him; I wasin lovewith him. I was so in love with him that the thought of him dying mademewant to die.

The realization struck me with the force of a bullet, and the sentiment was so foreign, so all-consuming, that I had no idea how to handle it.

So I let the excess emotion pour out through my eyes and throat, filling the room with the intensity of my sobs.

“Don’t cry.” Asher kissed the top of my head, his voice strained. “It’s okay, darling. I’m okay.”

“Did the doctors…can you…”

“I can still play football.” He picked up on my unfinished question. Short of death, his worst nightmare would’ve been a career-ending injury. “I have a concussion, multiple lacerations, and a sprained ankle, so I’ll have to sit out a couple of matches. They’re still waiting on some test results, but the doctor is confident I’ll be fully healed in a few weeks.”

I finally gathered enough composure to straighten and lift my head. I sniffled and swiped at my swollen eyes. I must have looked like a mess, but I didn’t care. I was beyond the point of embarrassment.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay because I thought…there was a moment when…” My voice caught.

Asher’s eyes softened further. “I’m okay,” he repeated. “I promise.”

I nodded and wiped my cheeks again. “What happened?” I hiccupped. “Did someone hit you?”

I wished I could spend the entirety of our time hugging and kissing and ignoring the events of the night, but until I knew what caused the crash, my imagination would continue running wild.

Asher hesitated. “In a way, yes,” he said. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

The human brain hated ambiguity. It was designed to fill in the blanks, and his vague answer gave it ample room to spin wild theories.

Washethe one who hit the other car? Were its occupants lying somewhere else in the building, grievously injured?

Something thick and ugly oozed through my veins.No. I refused to doubt him. Asher was a careful driver when he wasn’tracing, and if hehadharmed someone else, he would be sick over it. He wouldn’t be this calm.

Nevertheless, the mere prospect ripped open a portal in my imagination and tossed me back in time.

One second, I was in the hospital with Asher. The next, I was transported back to five years ago, when I awoke in a room very similar to this one and heard a faint murmur of voices discussing my situation.




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