Chapter 17

Asher

I blink against the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains of Elle’s tiny home and groan, stretching my arms above my head. The tempting scent of lavender and vanilla fills my nostrils, making it all too easy to sink back into the softness of Elle's bed.

"Shit!" My eyes snap open as I catch sight of the dead phone lying beside me. I overslept again – damn it, why didn't I charge my phone last night? Panic surges through me, and I scramble out of bed, stumbling over tangled sheets. I swore I wasn’t going to stay the night here again, and then… I got comfortable.

"Elle?" I call out, hoping she can help me locate my missing wallet from the pile of clothes. But there's no response – she must already be at work. I silently curse myself for letting this happen again.

"Focus, Asher," I mutter under my breath, grabbing my rumpled clothes from the floor. Haphazardly pulling them on, I give one last glance at Elle's house before I burst through the door and sprint down the beach, leaving behind her tiny home community.

As I arrive at the hockey rink, my chest heaves with each desperate breath. The cool air inside the arena feels like ice on my flushed skin, but there's no time to stop and rest.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Dakota teases, nudging his helmet with a grin. "What? Did you get lost on the way here?"

"Ha-ha," I retort, forcing a smile even as frustration boils within me. "You're hilarious."

"Seriously, man," Ryder chimes in, concern etched onto his face. "This is the second time in a month. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "And hey, maybe you should worry about your own game instead of my personal life."

"Whoa, easy there," Ryder holds up his hands defensively. "Just making sure our star player's head is in the game."

"Sure," I grumble, strapping on my skates and grabbing my stick. "Let's just get to practice."

As we hit the ice, my thoughts race back to Elle, the confusion that being with her is hurting my career is threatening to swallow me whole. I just need to focus on the game.

"Alright, men," Coach barks as we gather around him. "Let's see what you've got today."

Ice shavings fly as I attempt to pivot during a drill, but my skates slip on the slick surface, and I barely regain my balance. My mind is scattered, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Each mistake I make further fuels my frustration.

"Come on, Gray!" Coach yells from the sidelines, his voice sharp like a whip. "You need to be on point today!"

"Sorry, Coach," I mutter, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to refocus. I can feel the eyes of my teammates on me, their concern mixing with my own growing shame.

"Pick it up, Jet!" Kaleb shouts from across the rink, trying to encourage me. But his words only serve to remind me of how far I've fallen from the man they all believe in.

I take a deep breath and push harder, attempting to drown out the thoughts of coming to work late again. But every stride on the ice feels heavier, as if the weight of my regrets keeps piling onto my shoulders.

As practice comes to an end, my performance has been nothing short of abysmal. My teammates exchange worried glances as we file off the ice, leaving me feeling more isolated than ever.

"Hey, man," Ryder catches up to me as I make my way to the locker room. "That was rough. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I snap, brushing past him and slamming my locker door open. The metallic clang echoes through the room, mirroring the chaos inside me.

In the locker room, I strip off my sweat-soaked gear, each piece a reminder of my dismal day on the ice. I slump onto the bench, head in my hands, replaying the events of the morning in my mind. In my haste to leave Elle's place, I'd let my fears and insecurities jeopardize my hockey career – the one thing that has always given me a sense of purpose.

"Shit," I whisper to myself, feeling both defeated and disgusted. How could I have let things spiral so far out of control?

As I sit there, surrounded by the cold, empty lockers, I wonder if this is the price I must pay for attempting to balance love and hockey. Loneliness seeps into every corner of the room, and I seriously wonder if I'm not cut out for both.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen to see a text message from Elle: Hey Asher, is everything okay? I'm worried about you.

Her words hit me like a slap in the face. It's true – I've been a hypocrite, telling her we'd work things out and be honest with each other, but here I am, unable to pull my own head out of my ass and lead by example.

I stare at her message, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I try to find the right words. But what can I say? I'm drowning in doubt and fear, unsure if I can truly give her what she deserves while chasing my hockey dreams? No, that's not fair to her. So I say nothing, letting the silence grow a wedge between us.

Feeling more lost than ever, I change and leave the rink, avoiding any further conversation with my teammates. I step outside, the crisp coastal air stings my face, a harsh reminder that the sun is setting on yet another day wasted in self-pity.

Back at my house in Pawleys Island, I retreat to my room and lock the door behind me. With each breath, loneliness closes in like walls of the darkened room, suffocating me. I picture Elle in her cozy little sanctuary, surrounded by vintage decor, plants, and calming scents. The thought only intensifies the ache in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Dammit," I mutter under my breath, pacing the length of my room. I've made a mess of things, and now I don't know how to fix it. Something has to change, or I risk losing everything I've ever cared about.

Once again, my phone buzzes, breaking the oppressive silence. And once again, I glance at the screen and see Elle's name displayed. My heart races, and my fingers hover over the screen, itching to answer her call. But the fear of facing her and admitting my failures holds me back. I let it ring until it goes silent, a quiet act of cowardice.

"Jet, you're an idiot," I tell myself, staring at the missed call notification. I convince myself that pushing her away is for the best, that it will protect my focus on hockey. But deep down, I know I'm just using it as an excuse to avoid confronting my own insecurities.

The night drags on, sleep eluding me like a mirage in the desert. Regret and loneliness gnaw at me with every toss and turn. I replay our last conversation in my head, cursing my inability to open up and be honest with her. In trying to protect my career, I've pushed away the one person who made me feel truly alive.

The morning shines pale light through the window, but I’m not any closer to a solution. How can I bridge the gap when I don't even trust myself? What if she's already given up on me? The questions swirl around in my mind, threatening to consume me whole.

"Get a grip, Jet," I whisper, forcing myself out of bed. I need to figure this out, not just for Elle but for myself. It's time to face my fears and learn how to balance love and hockey before I lose both.

***

I squint against the new light of the morning, groaning as I rub at my sleep-deprived eyes. My body aches from a night spent tossing and turning with no relief.

Suddenly, a loud banging on my door jolts me upright. "Asher! Get your ass up!" Ryder's gruff voice booms from the other side. As one of my closest friends and teammates, he's never been one to mince words.

"Alright, I'm up," I mutter, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing on unsteady feet. I yank the door open, revealing Ryder's imposing figure. His ice-blue eyes are narrowed in concern, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest.

"About time," he scoffs, pushing past me into my room. "You've been MIA for days, Jet. What's going on with you?"

I hesitate, suddenly feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "Just... struggling with some stuff," I admit, running a hand through my messy hair.

"Spill it," Ryder demands, cracking his knuckles impatiently.

"Elle and I... we're not in a good place right now. I've been avoiding her, thinking it would help me focus on hockey." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Ryder snorts. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Terribly," I confess, chewing on my lower lip. "But what if being with her means losing everything else that matters? What if I can't have both?"

He shakes his head, his expression softening. "Listen, Asher, I know you're scared. We all are. But love and hockey can coexist. You just need to find the right balance."

His words resonate within me, forcing me to confront the fears I've been running from. Can I truly have it all? Is it possible to find happiness with Elle without jeopardizing my hockey career?

"Look at it this way," Ryder continues, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You're not giving your best out there when you're constantly worried about this. You need to face your fears, man. Figure it out with Elle. Trust me, you'll be a better player for it."

As he leaves, his words echo in my mind, stirring up a flurry of emotions and doubts. Maybe he's right – maybe my fear of losing my hockey family is holding me back from experiencing true intimacy and happiness with Elle.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest, and grab my phone. It's time to face my fears and fight for what truly matters.

My heart feels heavy, the weight of Ryder's words still lingering in my thoughts. As I sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers tremble, hovering above my phone's screen. It's now or never.

"Elle," I start, my voice betraying my nerves as she answers the call. "I'm so sorry for everything. For leaving you hanging and not being there when I promised I would be."

I hear her take a sharp breath, and my chest tightens. "Asher, where have you been? I've been worried sick."

"Elle, listen," I choke out, forcing myself to face the truth head-on. "I've been struggling with balancing my love for hockey and my feelings for you. I let fear get the best of me, and I... I messed up."

Silence stretches over time, making my pulse race. Finally, Elle replies, her voice soft but steady. "You did, Asher. You ghosted me, and it hurt like hell. You made me feel all alone in this world again, just when I thought we were on the same page."

My throat constricts, and I fight back the tears threatening to spill. "Elle, I want to make things right. I want to work through our issues and find a way to balance my life with both you and hockey. Please, give me a chance to prove that I can be better."

She hesitates, the silence weighing heavily on my shoulders. "I don't know, Asher. You broke my trust, and I'm scared to risk getting hurt again."

"Elle, I understand. I'm scared too. But I can't bear the thought of losing you over this. We can take it slow, one step at a time."

My heart leaps as I hear a faint sigh on the other end of the line. But then, her response shatters my hope like fragile glass.

"Asher, it's over."

The words cut through me, leaving me breathless. I blink back tears, trying to comprehend the finality in her voice.

"Elle...please."

"Goodbye, Asher," she whispers, and with that, the line goes dead.

I slump back onto my bed, the phone slipping from my grasp. My heart feels raw, exposed, as I stare at the ceiling. The feeling of loss wraps around my chest like a vice.

I'm left to face the stark reality of losing Elle. And as much as it hurts, I know I have no one to blame but myself.