The Striker (Gods of the Game Book 1)

I slept at the hospital that night. I didn’t see Asher again, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave while he was there, so I curled up in the waiting area instead.

After a futile attempt to convince me to go home, Vincent convinced one of the nurses (a huge Blackcastle fan) to let me grab a few hours of rest on the staff break room’s sofa instead.

I left the next morning for work, but I made Vincent promise to update me if there were any changes to Asher’s condition.

Thankfully, there weren’t.

The hospital discharged him four days after the crash. In that time, the tabloids had a bloody field day. Details about his race trickled out in bits and pieces at first, then suddenly turned into a deluge.

Asher had allegedly been racing against Enzo Bocci, Holchester’s captain. The articles used “allegedly” because there was no concrete proof they were racing. The circumstances pointed to a race, but no witnesses came forward to corroborate the suspicion, and no cameras caught them in the act.

However, several people spotted Asher and Bocci arguing at the Angry Boar a few hours before the crash, and Bocci was apparently being investigated for his role in Asher’s accident. He was suspended until the investigation was complete. Due to his injuries, Asher was also officially out of the game for at least the next three weeks.

The world of football was in tumult, but it didn’t compare to my inner chaos.

It was Monday, exactly nine days since the crash and five days since Asher left the hospital. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since I visited him that first night. I suspected he was trying to give me space like I’d asked. I appreciated it because I wouldn’t know what to say if I saw him; at the same time, enduring his absence was like being starved of air.

So, instead of dwelling on the dull pain in my chest, I threw myself into work. Nothing repressed important feelings like a packed schedule and a class full of students.

Unfortunately, every workday had to end.

“Excellent job, everyone.” My smile stretched like plastic across my face as my students packed up their belongings. “I’ll see you on Wednesday for our next lesson.”

I didn’t say what I really wanted to say. Stay. Don’t leave me with myself.

Their company provided a sanctuary from my emotions, but they were my last class of the day, and I couldn’t hold them. I could only watch as they trickled out of the studio and took my hopes of distraction with them—all of them, that was, except for one.

“Ms. DuBois, are you okay?” Emma asked. She was always the first to show up and the last to leave. She was also shockingly observant for a seventeen-year-old. “You look a little pale. I can get the nurse if you’re not feeling well.”

“No.” I forced a smile. “It’s been a long day, that’s all. Don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your evening.”

Instead of leaving, she lingered, her expression conflicted.

I paused wiping down the barre. “Is there something you’d like to discuss?”

“Well, I don’t want to push you or anything, but I was wondering if you’ll be able to attend the student showcase after all,” she said shyly. “My parents wanted to save a seat for you next to them if you do come. They’re really grateful for all that you’ve done for me. I never would’ve gotten the role without your guidance.”

Guilt squeezed my lungs.

I didn’t want to crush her hopes, but between the press and Asher, I’d reached the end of my emotional rope. I didn’t have enough left in me to deal with my complicated feelings toward Westbury.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” I let her down as gently as possible. “I won’t be able to attend opening night. I have a…prior commitment, but I’ll make sure to watch the replay.”

Her face fell for a second before she smoothed it with a valiant smile. “I understand. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

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, informal conversation. 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 cared too much. 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.”

I dragged a deep breath into my lungs. It burned like the air itself was on fire.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.” I kept my gaze on his, my heart galloping with sickening speed. “Pretend you can go back to that night, except this time Bocci never hits your car and the race finishes smoothly. Knowing that, would you still say yes to the race?”

Asher’s split second of hesitation told me all I needed to know.

The room blurred as my heart cleaved in half. Pain leaked through the crevice, seeping into my veins and solidifying into cold, hard clarity.

“It’s not about the race or even the promise.” Every word scraped like rusted nails against tender flesh on their way out, but I forced myself to continue. “It’s about the pattern. It’s about compulsively choosing to do something that leads to self-harm. You said the race was the only way to settle things with Holchester, but what about all the times before that? You’ve crashed before. We talked about it in Japan. You understand the danger, and you know how”—my voice broke—“you know how it would kill me if anything happened to you.”

Asher didn’t respond, but the rise and fall of his chest quickened like he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs.

“Do you know how I felt when I first saw the news? There was a period of time when I was convinced you were dead, and it tore me apart.” Another tear spilled down my cheek and salted my tongue. “You say that was the last time, but what happens when someone challenges you again or your emotion gets the better of you?”

“It won’t.” A thread of panic infused his response. “The race with Bocci really was the last time. I…” He faltered.

“Promise?” I finished with a sad smile. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that actions speak louder than words. I want to believe you, Asher. I really do. Because I…” I love you. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue before I swallowed them. They went down like jagged pills. “I care about you, and that’s why I can’t—I can’t be with you.” The realization tore at me with vicious claws, making me stumble and turning my voice into a shredded version of itself. “I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct.”

I couldn’t force him to change nor did I want to. The change had to come from him, but if I stayed knowing he was still on that path of self-destruction, I would be silently condoning his actions.

I loved him too much to do that.

Asher went deathly still. He stared at me, his eyes a firestorm of emotion that scorched every inch of bare skin. “Are you breaking up with me?” The shock, the pain in his voice was so raw that it almost undid me.

“I…” Just say it. Finish what you’ve started. “I’ll always care about you,” I repeated. I sounded like a broken record, but I was too exhausted and drained to scrounge for new turns of phrase. “But until you exhibit the same care for yourself, we can’t be together. It’s not…I…it’s not possible.”

The tears were falling fast and hard now. I tried to wipe them away, but there were too many of them, and my efforts were futile.

So I let them fall silently, though their release did nothing to ease the suffocating pressure in my chest.

Asher hadn’t moved. He hardly breathed. If it weren’t for the tiniest tremor of his muscles, I would’ve thought him a statue, frozen in disbelief.

“Scarlett.” When he finally spoke, his voice cracked on my name. The two halves of my heart splintered into a thousand more pieces. “Don’t do this. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“I’m sorry.” I held on to the barre for strength, but it felt cold and impersonal—an indifferent observer to my suffering. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“You said you cared about me, and I care about you. More than anything else in this world.” A rough plea hoarsened his words. “Please, darling. I know I broke my promise once, but I’ll never do it again. Not when I know it means losing you.”

It would be so easy to give in. To collapse into his arms and let him sweep us away from this excruciating torment.

On the surface, his reasoning made sense. Why shouldn’t we be together? There was nothing holding us back now but ourselves.

Except we were often our own biggest obstacles, and if I papered over our issues now, they would only fester and grow in the future.

“That’s the problem,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I can’t be the only reason you don’t race anymore. The fact you don’t understand that is why I…why we need space.”

“Scarlett.” This time, my name wasn’t a plea; it was a prayer.

Asher reached for me, but I instinctively pulled away. I was already treading a shaky line; if he touched me, it would be over.

My lungs knotted into a messy tangle. I couldn’t be near him. Not right now. I needed…he needed…

Oxygen thinned, making me lightheaded.

“Please leave,” I begged. His response might not have been a plea, but mine was.

Asher remained silent. I could barely see past my veil of tears, but I could feel his anguish.

It seeped through my defenses like acid, eating through resolve and determination to reach the vulnerabilities shielded beneath.

I forced myself to harden against the offense. “Do you remember the favor you owe me? When I agreed to watch the horror movie that first night I slept over at your house?”

Asher’s breaths were heavy and ragged in the otherwise silent studio. “Don’t.”

“I’m calling it in now.” I hated tainting that night with today’s poison, but I had no choice. “Please go.”

My last sentence was nearly inaudible.

For a second, I thought he wouldn’t leave, but Asher kept his word.

“If you need me,” he said, so softly and rawly I almost didn’t hear him. “I’m here.”

Then he left, taking his warmth and promises with him.

I waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before I sank onto the floor and pulled my knees to my chest. I buried my face in my elbow and finally gave in to my grief.

It gushed up, bitter and acrid, to pour out of my throat in silent, heaving sobs. My shoulders shook, and the tears flowed so endlessly that I was sure I wouldn’t survive this. I couldn’t have that much moisture left. I would simply dry up and wither away into a husk of my former self.

I wasn’t a stranger to pain. I lived with it every day, and some days were worse than others.

But I’d never experienced pain like this—like thousands of metal teeth were gnawing through my ribcage, tearing flesh and bone into shreds. When they reached their bounty—the beating, vulnerable organ responsible for their existence—they feasted on it, mangling it beyond recognition.

Soon, even my sobs hurt, but I could no more stop them than I could stop the agony marching through my chest.

This wasn’t the pain of my muscles rebelling or my body protesting against overexertion. It wasn’t even the despair I fell into after Rafael left. I thought I’d loved him at the time, but what I felt for him was mere infatuation compared to what I felt for Asher.

No. This? This inescapable, indescribable torment?

This was the pain of my heart truly breaking for the first time in my life.