Chapter 13

Asher

The sun creeps through the thin curtains draped over the window in Elle’s tiny home. I stir awake and squint at my surroundings, disoriented. Elle's sanctuary has become my sanctuary too, a place where I can forget the pressures of the outside world and just be Asher, not "Jet" Gray.

But something feels off this morning. My heart races as I glance around the room, noticing my phone lying on the floor, its screen dark. Panic sets in as I fumble to pick it up and press the power button, only to find that the battery is dead. Shit. I forgot to plug it in last night.

"Elle," I whisper urgently, shaking her gently by the shoulder. Her eyelids flutter open, revealing those mesmerizing crystal blue eyes.

"Morning already?" she murmurs sleepily, her voice laced with the softness of dreams.

"Can you check the time? My phone's dead, and I have a feeling I'm late for practice." Elle reaches for her own phone on the nightstand and swipes her thumb across the screen.

"Shit, Asher. It's 9:15. Weren't you supposed to be on the ice at 9?"

"Damn it!" I leap out of bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor and hastily pulling them on. The guilt gnaws at me, tearing me apart from the inside. I've never been late to practice before. Hockey is everything to me. But so is Elle, and my time with her last night was magical; our bodies entwined, the taste of her lips still lingering in my memory.

"Go, Asher. I'll drive you so you can fully wake up," Elle says, climbing out of bed and tossing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"No, it's fine," I insist, running a hand through my disheveled hair. "I'll drive myself. I don't want you to be late for work and get in trouble because of me."

"Are you sure? I don't mind," she offers, concern etched on her face.

"Positive." I lean in and press a quick kiss to her lips. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers, the disappointment clear in her eyes as she watches me rush out the door.

As I sprint to my car, my heart feels like it's being pulled in two different directions. Hockey has always been my number one priority, but Elle is quickly becoming just as important, if not more so. How am I supposed to choose between them? The thought is unsettling.

I need to focus on hockey, at least for now. As I speed towards the rink, Elle's scent still clinging to my skin, I’m debating in my head if I've made the right choice. Is it even possible to have both love and success? Or will one inevitably destroy the other?

Over the next few days, I feel myself unintentionally pulling back from Elle. Our text messages become less frequent, our plans canceled or postponed. It's not that I don't want to see her – God, I do – but there’s an anxious feeling that I need to focus on my career.

"Hey, Jet," Kaleb greets me one afternoon as I walk through the door of our shared house at Pawleys Island. "How’s it going?"

"Fine," I mumble, avoiding eye contact. The last thing I need is for my teammates to know I'm struggling with something other than hockey.

"Is it about the girl again?" Dakota chimes in from across the room, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You've been acting weird ever since you started hanging out with her."

"Elle's great," I snap, my frustration bubbling over. "It's just... I don't know. I need to focus on the game, right? That's why we're all here."

"Sure, but..." Ryder hesitates, searching for the right words. "That doesn't mean you can’t have some sort of balance."

"Balance," I repeat, as if the word is foreign. Can I really find a way to juggle both my career and my relationship with Elle? Or am I just setting myself up for failure?

Doubt gnaws at me, consuming my thoughts and infecting my interactions with the team. I can feel their concern, their silent questions hovering in the air. I wish I had an answer for them – and for myself.

One night, after another grueling practice, I sit alone in my car, watching the waves crash against the shore of Love Beach. The ocean has always been a source of comfort for me, a constant reminder that there are bigger forces at work in the world.

Can I really have it all? I just wish I could have some sort of sign. Some indication that I'm on the right path.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text.

Elle: Hey, just wanted to check in on you. I miss you.

My heart aches at her words, and there’s an overwhelming sense of longing for her presence.

Me: Miss you too…

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I struggle with what to say next. This is the pivotal moment where I need to make a decision – do I continue to distance myself, or do I open up to her about my fears and doubts? I type hesitantly, hitting send before I can second-guess myself.

Me: Can we talk?

Her response comes across my screen almost immediately, agreeing to meet me at her house.

When I arrive, she greets me with a warm hug, her slender arms wrapping around me tightly. The scent I’m now accustomed to of hers fills my nostrils, and everything feels perfect again.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, concern etched on her face as we sit down on her cozy couch.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the courage to articulate my thoughts. "Elle, I... I've been struggling," I admit, feeling a weight lift off my chest as I finally voice the truth. "With hockey, and... us."

"Talk to me, Asher," she urges gently, her blue eyes searching mine.

"I want to be the best hockey player I can be. And I'm scared that being with you might... get in the way of that." My voice cracks at the end, betraying the depth of my emotions.

Elle's expression shifts, a blend of understanding and sadness. "I never wanted to hold you back," she says softly.

"Maybe we don't have to, though," I suggest, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within me. "Maybe we can find a way to make this work while still prioritizing our careers."

"Are you sure?" Elle asks, her eyes searching for any hint of doubt in my own.

"Let's give it a try," I say, determination swelling within me. "I don't want to lose you over this."

A small smile plays on Elle's lips, and she nods in agreement. "Okay, let's try."

The next day at practice, I throw myself into the game, pushing my body to its limits. My coach notices as I make one impressive play after another and tells me great job after practice. Despite the physical exhaustion, I feel invigorated.