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Page 190 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

I watched her leave, feeling like the worst, most selfish human being in the world.

Just one more cherry on top of the shit sundae that’s my life.

The paps were even more relentless after the crash, and my parents had been blowing up my phone nonstop. My father was somewhat sheltered since he lived in Paris, but the paps had taken to harassing my mother too. She came home one day to find one of them rummaging through her rubbish bin, and she almost called the police on him before he ran away.

Between that and the accident, she was feeling much less warm and fuzzy about Asher these days.

Maybe it was karma for all the secrets I’d kept over the summer. I should’ve?—

“Hi.”

My fight or flight kicked in before my senses fully registered the unexpected voice.

I whirled around, sure I’d see another pap who’d stolen onto the grounds. They were glued to the street outside RAB’s gates like leeches to their host.

But it wasn’t a pap.

It was someone so much worse.

My heart folded in on itself. I might not know what I wanted to say to him, but after a week apart, I drank him in like a parched nomad at an oasis.

Asher’s broad shoulders and strong, sculpted frame filled the doorway. He looked handsome as ever, even with his cuts and bruises, but his face was lined with exhaustion and his eyes were missing their usual spark.

And yet, his effect was still devastating.

Seeing him in person had the same impact as being struck with a wrecking ball. It knocked the breath straight out of my lungs and smashed a huge dent in the cool, calm facade I’d spent a week cultivating.

“What are you doing here?” To my relief, my voice sounded steady—not at all like the ragged heartbeats that threatened to break out of my chest.

“I needed to see you.” Those green eyes met mine. I loved and hated how they pierced through me, like they could see straight through my shields to the vulnerable, conflicted girl underneath. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

My heartbeat wobbled. “You’re the one who was in a car crash recently. I should be saying that to you.” But I wasn’t because I was a coward, and I’d avoided him with dogged determination since the hospital. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

“We both know I’m not talking about the crash.” He stepped into the studio, eradicating my attempt at a polite, informalconversation. He favored his left leg because of his ankle sprain, but he covered it up so gracefully I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been so attuned to his every movement. “We should talk.”

Every molecule in the air sparked to life.

“About what?” I stalled.

I wasn’t ready to talk. If we talked, then I’d have to confront the state of our relationship, and I’d much rather live in denial.

Limbo was better than hell.

Asher stopped less than two feet away. “About us.”

His rough, raw voice rushed over me.

As upset as I was about him breaking his promise and endangering his life, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care about him.

That was the problem.

I caredtoomuch. I cared too much and he didn’t care enough, and I was afraid we’d never bridge that gap.

“I miss you,” he said softly.

A stray tear escaped and scalded my cheek. “Don’t.”

“It’s the truth.” Asher’s throat flexed. “I didn’t reach out sooner because I knew you needed space after what I told you, but I can’t stay away from you for too long. Even a week felt like hell.” His eyes searched mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give. “I know you’re upset with me. I know I fucked up. But I meant it when I said that was the last time. You have to believe me.”




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