Page 95 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

We didn’t talk much during the ride, but her presence helped calm some of the thoughts raging in my head.

My father, who’d never been sick for more than a few days in his life, had had a heart attack.

We hadn’t spoken since my last visit to Holchester, when he’d stormed out of the kitchen and I’d left without making amends.

Regret rattled through me.

My mother hadn’t provided many details over the phone. She’d only said he was in the hospital, but what if our last words to each other were said out of anger? What if he was gone by the time I got there?

My knuckles turned white around the wheel.

“You can drive faster if you want,” Scarlett said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

I shook my head. “We’re almost there. It’ll be slower if I sped and got pulled over.”

I was already going faster than I normally would when she was in the car. She said she’d be fine, but I didn’t want to stress her out, and getting a ticket from some traffic officer on a power trip wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Scarlett’s worried stare bore a hole in my cheek, but she didn’t bring up the issue again. She did, however, call ahead and speak to someone at the hospital so that when we arrived, we were escorted directly to my father’s floor without causing a commotion—or tipping off the paparazzi.

My mother sat in the hall, twisting her hands in her lap.

She jumped up when she saw me. Red rimmed her eyes, and she wore her pyjamas with a coat thrown on top. She must’ve gone straight to the hospital without changing first.

“Oh, Asher.” She swept me up into a hug. I’d always considered her a strong person, but her body felt unbearably frail in the fluorescent-lit hallway. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course.” I squeezed her, my heart in my throat. “How is he?”

“He’s stable, thank the Lord.” My mother pulled back, her eyes glossy. “We were having breakfast like usual. I made him a spot of tea, and we were talking about going to France for holiday. I turned for a second to check on the kettle and heard a crash. When I turned back again, he was on the floor. He…I…”

I hugged her again, my own chest tight. “It’s okay. He’ll be okay.”

Guilt lodged in my gut for not living closer and abandoning her for London. I had my reasons, but what if something happened to my parents and I couldn’t make it back in time? I was their only child, and the rest of our family lived elsewhere in the UK or abroad. Besides each other, I was all they had.

I didn’t hate my father; I just wished our relationship was different. Plus, my parents had been married for over thirty years. If one of them was gone, I wasn’t sure the other would survive.

My mother drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She was a strong believer in maintaining a stiff upper lip, and her tears visibly subsided as she locked down her emotions again.

“You’re right. He’ll be okay,” she said. “Of course he will. He’s already out of the woods. The doctor said they’re keeping him for monitoring just in case, but he should be home within a day or two.” She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Forgive me. I don’t knowwhatcame over me, crying in public like that. My Lord.”

Now that she was in control once more, she realized we weren’t alone. She glanced past me at Scarlett, who stood a respectful distance away. Surprise flashed across her face before her earlier weepiness morphed into intrigue.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said. “I’m Pippa, Asher’s mum.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Scarlett, Asher’s friend,” Scarlett said politely.

“Please, call me Pippa. I can’t stand being called ma’am. Reminds me ofmymum, and no one wants that.” My mother shuddered before she examined Scarlett with an eagle eye.

Uh-oh. I recognized that look. That was her my-baby-boy-is-almost-thirty-and-still-hasn’t-given-me-grandchildren-so-I’m-going-to-play-matchmaker-whenever-I-can look.

I almost would’ve preferred she continued to sob.

“Why don’t we look for?—”

“Thank you for coming with Asher,” my mother said, interrupting my attempt to steer us toward another topic. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. That’s what friends are for.”

“Indeed. Were you with him when he got the news?”