Page 21 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
Asher was training there and therefore a temporary member of the academy, so I wasn’t lying. Technically.
I hadn’twantedto get into a car with him. I didn’t deal well with new-to-me drivers after the accident, which was why I rarely took taxis, but the paparazzi ambush had left me no choice.
“So it’s another staff member.” For some reason, Vincent looked relieved. Maybe a paranoid part of him had fearedAsherwas the one who drove me home. “Good.”
I didn’t correct him and prove his paranoia right.
Looking back, I should’ve been terrified given Asher’s reputation for reckless driving. However, he’d driven safe and slow, and our conversation had kept me from spiraling.
For someone whose mere presence put me on edge, he had a way of also easing my anxiety—namely by distracting me so much I didn’t have time to think about anything else.
A twist of unease tightened inside me. I didn’t like my contradictory reactions to Asher. I preferred to sort my emotions into separate boxes—black and white, good and bad, alphabetized and color-coded. But when I looked at him, I was a muddled canvas of gray.
Ihatedgray.
“So, are we going to talk about what happened?” I asked, switching subjects. Asher and I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I didn’t want Vincent to freak out and go on a tangent about me consorting with the enemy. “How’s Dad?”
All I knew was he’d had an accident. He had a lot of those now that he was retired and constantly puttering around, but they usually involved him hitting his head or slamming the dooron his hand. Nevertheless, he made it sound like he was dying every time.
Vincent wasn’t the only drama queen in the family.
Still, he was our father, so it was our duty to check in anyway, hence why Vincent gave him an emergency ringtone.
“He fell and broke his hip. He’s fine,” he said when I opened my mouth. “He doesn’t need surgery. But, uh, he asked me to come home and stay with him until the season starts or he’s fully healed.”
I narrowed my eyes as Vincent wolfed down his spring roll. “You can’t hire a home nurse? It has to be you, specifically?”
“Ididhire a nurse, which is why he wants me to stay with him. You know he hates being alone with strangers.”
Fair enough, but…“Vince, you can’t even make a proper bowl of soup. What are you going to do while you’re there?”
I couldn’t picture my wonderful, athletic, yet deeply out of touch brother taking care of anything that didn’t involve a football, a video game, or a party.
“Good thing soup has nothing to do with it,” he countered. “I just have to keep Dad company and make him feel better about having the nurse around twenty-four-seven. If I’m not there, he’s liable to drive her to murder.”
“How long will recovery take?”
“It’s hard to say. The doctors estimate anywhere from three to four months.”
“Hmm.” I studied him with a hint of suspicion. “You’re not doing this to get out of training with Asher, are you?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “Trust me, Lettie, I’d rather stay in London. I don’t want you dealing with Asher alone, especially when he…”
I stiffened. “Especially when he what?”
He knows about the ride home. He knows Asher has been flirting with you and, despite what you say, a part of you likes it.
“Especially when he’s such a dick,” Vincent said after a beat of hesitation. “Don’t fall for the charmer act he puts on with girls. It’s just that. An act. I’ve seen it a million times. We should’ve never signed him,” he added with a grumble. “You see how he is. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Relief loosened the knot in my lungs.He doesn’t know.
“I’m not stupid. Besides, I have a strict no-footballer rule. Asher Donovan is not on my romantic radar, and he never will be.”
Attraction didn’t count as romance. That was an involuntary, hormonal thing. My body may not agree, but my brain was firmly on board and my heart was safely locked away.
However, a seed of guilt remained lodged in my chest. No matter how I rationalized the car ride, itfeltlike a betrayal, and I hated doing anything that might jeopardize my relationship with Vincent. Besides Carina, he was the only person I fully trusted.
“Good.” Despite his response, Vincent’s frown deepened. “On second thought, maybe I can talk to Dad and convince him his home nurse won’t, I don’t know, stab him in his sleep when I’m not there. I can be here during the week for training and take the train to Paris on the weekends. The more I think about it, the more I don’t fucking trust Donovan.”