Page 204 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
Two weeks had passed since my breakup with Asher. I thought the bruising ache of his absence would fade, but it only strengthened by the day. I couldn’t turn on the TV or pass by a newsstand without seeing photos of his face plastered everywhere. I couldn’t even walk through my flat without seeing his face or hearing his laugh.
In the short time I’d known him, he’d ingrained himself into my life so thoroughly that I couldn’t imagine living it without him. Trying to do so had been…difficult. And my new concerns about whether I’d unfairly set him up on a pedestal even I couldn’t reach didn’t make it easier.
I finished wiping down the barre and tossed the used wipes into the rubbish bin.
Did itmatterif I was being hypocritical? That didn’t change the reality of our situation. It wouldn’t make Asher any less self-destructive or susceptible to danger. Unless he?—
“Scarlett.” Carina poked her head into the studio, interrupting my rambling thoughts. Her face was flushed, and her eyes glittered with excitement. “You need to get downstairsright now.”
“Why? Is it the paps again?” They hadn’t caught wind of my breakup with Asher yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Carina shook her head, looking almost awed. “You have to see it for yourself.”
CHAPTER 53
SCARLETT
“I saw them on the security cameras,” Carina said breathlessly as we exited the building. “I had to tell you.”
“Saw who…” My question trailed off when we reached the car park.
I stopped.
Inhaled.
Andstared.
Logically, I understood what my eyes were seeing, but my brain couldn’t fully process the spectacle.
Because staring back at me, their faces stamped with near-identical grins, was the entire Blackcastle football club. Every single one of them stood next to a different sports car like they were salesmen at a luxury auto show.
Well,almostevery one of them.
My heart stopped when the two players in the middle parted, revealing a familiar head of dark hair and emerald eyes.
How…what…
My brain sputtered, at a loss for words, as Asher walked past his teammates and toward me. His mouth curved into a small smile. “Hi, darling.”
It was a simple greeting. Two words, which I’d heard plenty of times before. It shouldn’t have elicited such an instant, visceral reaction—but it did.
Every nerve ending sparked like live wires in the rain. Warmth sluiced through my body as my heartbeat slowed, trying to draw the moment out as long as possible.
Hi, darling.The only words that always made me feel like I was coming home.
They urged me to run up to him and throw my arms around his neck. To bury my face in his chest and listen to his heartbeat as proof that he was alive andhere.
The compulsion was so strong, I actually took a tiny step forward before reason prevailed and I stopped myself.
Instead, I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat and gestured at the cars lined up behind him. “What’s this?”
It took all my remaining willpower not to falter as Asher closed the distance between us.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.