Chapter 11
eleven
CADEN
Halting my steps just outside Ash’s office, I tried to mentally prepare myself to knock on his door, even though it stood wide open. It was too weird to simply walk into his space without an invitation.
Time passed both too fast and too slow for the nervous energy that had been shifting under my skin since our conversation at the end of practice. I wasn’t good with uncertainty, and I had no idea how this was going to go.
Was this going to be a supportive coaching moment where Ash tried to reassure me that my place on the team wasn’t in jeopardy? Or had Coach Wilder given Ash the job of putting me on notice that I needed to improve, or else I was out?
Chancing a glance around the doorframe, I was granted a quick view of Ash casually sitting back against the worn black leather sofa along the far wall of the room. His focus was wholly on his phone as he typed something out on the screen.
It’s now or never. Just knock already! It’s better than hovering outside his door like a stalker.
I drew in a deep breath and raised my hand to the metal doorframe.
The rap of my knuckles barely made a sound against the hard surface. Either my knock was loud enough to get Ash’s attention, or he could hear my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest, because he called out a soft “Cade?”
Pushing myself into the opening to his office, I offered the lamest wave in the history of the gesture.
What was it about Ash that had me constantly acting like I’d never been out in public before?
It’s probably a sign that you belong in front of your computer working on your next app instead of humiliating yourself over and over in front of the only hockey player you’ve ever admired.
And got hard every time you laid in bed thinking about his face or his body.
I let my eyes stay closed for a fraction of a second longer than usual as I blinked. My inner voice was spectacularly unhelpful.
Ash set his phone down on the small coffee table in front of him. With its peeling paper veneer and numerous coffee rings, it had seen better days.
What did Ash think about his assigned space after a decade of playing for wealthy NHL teams, where everything was the best money could buy?
A quick glance around the room with its painted cinderblock walls suggested everything here was a little worn.
Everything except the man it belonged to.
Even after a full day at the arena, Ash looked more awake than I felt, and I’d spent an hour “resting” this afternoon, staring at the ceiling of my small room in Hawkins and Kovac’s apartment.
“Hey, Cade, come in. Have a seat.”
Reaching over the short distance to his desk, Ash swiped the closed laptop that sat near the edge.
Computer in hand, he flopped back down on the loveseat, flicking his wrist at the empty space beside him.
My nerves wanted to lock me in place. I had to force my limbs to close the space between us.
Judging by the crease that appeared between his brows, Ash was busy logging into the team’s portal. The VPN could be unpredictably glitchy in the arena, which the whole team had to contend with every time there was a new communication from head office.
Still, it was nothing compared to the wireless dead zone that was Hawkins and Kovac’s apartment. So, even if I could figure out a way to set up my desktop in my walk-in-closet-sized bedroom, the lack of reliable internet would hamper any progress on my next idea.
After quietly slipping into the seat beside Ash, the cracks in the leather caught on my sweatpants, causing them to bunch around my groin uncomfortably.
I shifted as unobtrusively as possible, trying to pull the fabric out from between my legs without jostling the whole couch.
“You all right there, Cade?” The teasing words came from my left, rendering my body still.
A glance in Ash’s direction revealed the amusement in his gaze.
Ah, shit. First the idling outside his office door, and now the squirming next to him. I was batting a hundred in embarrassment points.
“Yep. All good,” I replied, keeping my tone level and not like I wanted to melt into the couch cushions and disappear.
My serious tone muted the glint in Ash’s eyes. Instead of saying anything else, he shifted the computer so it sat halfway between us and our legs acted as supports on each side to allow the bottom of the laptop to span the eight or so inches.
Not saying anything more, he clicked through a few folders on the screen.
The absence of Ash’s amusement left a tension in the air that had a shiver lingering under my skin. The silence between us was charged, but my introverted self couldn’t figure out if I was the only one feeling it.
Did he regret his offer to spend some of his downtime going over tape with me by ourselves now that he had a front-row seat to my awkwardness?
My unease increased.
He’s probably just concentrating on what he’s doing. The reason he’s quiet now doesn’t mean he thinks you’re acting weird.
I tried to talk my anxiety down, but my own voice could barely scrape the surface of my instinctual reactions. It was like putting a Band-Aid on a dam trying to hold back Niagara Falls for how effective it was.
After years of hearing what a burden I was from my dad, I couldn’t stand the thought of being an inconvenience to anyone, let alone the hockey player I’d looked up to since my time in the juniors.
It was even worse now because I was starting to know Asher Landry as a man. He was so different from what I’d imagined him to be all those years I’d spent staring at the poster I still had of him in my old room at my parents’ house.
Sure, I’d known he was a good guy before I met him, based on the amount of charity work he did with the Titans, but any decent agent could manufacture a consistent series of photo ops to make a client look good to the media.
As an alternate coach for the Hammerheads, Ash seemed to have an endless well of both praise and easy-to-hear constructive feedback while we were on the ice.
But it was the little—I didn’t want to call them intimate, even though that’s how they felt—moments where he focused on me as “Caden” and not the team’s second-line center that made me soften toward him.
I was comfortable with him in a way I hadn’t been with another person since Kait had befriended me.
“Can I help?” I blurted out, not able to stand the silence any longer.
Ash’s shoulders jolted with the sound of my voice, gaze moving from the screen to my face.
“Sorry, what?” He blinked, as if I’d brought him out of a moment of real concentration. “I thought I knew exactly where the video I wanted to show you was on the Cloud. But now, I can’t find it. Hell, I know Evan is trying to sort out the old system, but. . .”
He dragged the hand not on the touchpad through his dark waves, ruffling his hair a bit higher on one side. Not that Ash’s slightly dishevelled appearance made him any less magazine-cover-ready.
“Can I try? I’m okay at figuring these things out.” I repeated my offer. “Just let me know the name or date of the file you were looking for.”
“Absolutely,” he muttered, eyeing the device with distaste. “Surely, there had to be a better way of sorting shit while they overhauled the system.”
There were likely several. But I kept my mouth shut.
He slid the laptop fully onto my lap.
My attention shifted from the man beside me to the screen, clicking through the various file paths laid out haphazardly on his home screen.
The nerves in my left eye wanted to twitch with the restraint it took not to start reorganizing what I saw on his screen.
Apparently, I was more meticulous than I thought when it came to this stuff. That, or it really was just a mess in pixel form.
Finding the file he’d wanted, I cued up the video, moving the computer back so it was balanced on both our legs.
Hoping I hadn’t overstepped, I brought my focus back to Ash’s face.
“Okay at this stuff, eh?” His eyebrow raised with his words. “Seems like a little more than that to me. How’d you know how to find that file so fast? Even I can tell there’s practically zero organization on that thing.”
“Um, yeah. It’s no big deal,” I choked, not really wanting to bore Ash with my moderately intense computer-related obsession.
Because there was no way he would care. I’d just look like I was wasting his time.
I had to show him I was here to focus on hockey, not share my dreams about writing apps that would truly make people’s lives easier.
“Really?” Ash pushed, his eyes narrowing, pinning me with his gaze.
“Well, it’s just something I fool around with in the off-season, like a hobby or whatever. I kind of like knowing how things fit together. Once I learned how programs worked, I wanted to find out if I could put something new together myself.”
I shrugged, hoping my facial expression gave the impression that this topic wasn’t worth talking about.
“Hmm. I’m pretty sure it’s not as simple as you make it sound,” he murmured, rubbing the first knuckles on his right hand against the scruff on his chin. “But we should look at the tapes I was talking about.”
Yes, please. Let’s move on. If we talk any more on this subject, I might not be able to hide that I wish I had other options than hockey. And that is not something I want to say in front of a literal hockey star.
There was no way Ash could understand.
At my nod, he clicked play on the screen. He immediately rattled off the part of the season opener that he wanted to focus on.
So powerful was the relief that I’d avoided talking about anything personal, my mind went blank for several seconds.
It happened like that for me sometimes. If I got too overwhelmed about a certain thing, it was as if my brain needed a hard restart.
“Cade, bud?”
Though my eyes were fixed on the screen in front of us, I hadn’t been paying attention. Ash’s words flipped the switch on my sluggish mind.
How long did I just zone out for?
“Shit! Ah, I mean, shoot. Sorry, Coach. I missed that,” I tripped over the words.
A warmth lit up Asher’s eyes at my fumbled attempt to excuse my inattention, one corner of his pink lips tilting upward in what looked like amusement.
“No problem. It seems like we’re both pretty zonked after that practice this morning. Maybe I’ll have to have a talk with Coach Wilder about his number of mandatory skates in the schedule, eh?” The one-sided curve of his mouth transformed into a full smile as he spoke.
Even if he was likely joking, the last thing I wanted him to do was cause trouble with Coach Wilder because of something to do with me. The thought alone made me sick.
“Ohmygodnodon’t,” I stammered, the words blending together in my race to get them out. “Please don’t say anything on my account. I can handle the schedule. I’m lucky to be on this team, and I know it.”
Asher’s playful smile dropped into a considering line as his eyes remained locked on my face, making me realize that I just told my coach what to do.
Double shit! “I just mean, I don’t want to be an inconvenience, and I can definitely do what needs to be done to pull my weight on the team. Not, you know, telling you not to tell Coach whatever you want to tell him. I know that’s not my call. . .” I trailed off, my shoulders tense.
Asher made no reply as he shifted his body toward mine. The move brought the front of his shin in contact with my calf muscle. The heat of his skin seeped through the thin material of my sweatpants.
The slight pressure of his leg against mine chased some of the worry from my system. Even knowing it was wrong to relish the contact with my assistant coach, I held myself still so I wouldn’t draw Ash’s attention to the point of contact between us.
“Whoa. Let’s take a deep breath here. Can you do that with me?” The earlier mirth in his gaze softened into a gentle concern.
His breathing slowed as he pulled in a deep breath of air before letting it out again. It took two more breaths before my body would cooperate and copy his.
“That’s much better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “You and I are all good, Cade. Nothing about you being here is an inconvenience to me, okay?”
He paused, waiting for my nod of agreement before continuing.
“Trust me when I say that I’m at the point in my life where I don’t do anything I don’t want to.
So, please believe I’m being genuine in wanting to help you out.
If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t. It’s as simple as that.
Does that make sense, Cade?” His voice transformed from carefully moderated to low and firm by the end of his words, leaving me zero doubt as to whether he meant them.
“I hear you,” I rasped out, trying to push down the unexpected emotion that stirred inside me.
“Good,” he said. “With that out of the way, how about a drink? Water, juice, or. . . if we say screw the nutrition plan, a Coke?”
“Water would be great. Thank you.”
The water bottle would give me something to do with my hands.
He stood and walked to the far corner of the room, where a white mini-fridge sat.
“And remember, it’s Ash. On the ice, being ‘Coach’ is one thing. But I’ve never been one to put much stock in formality.” He winked at me before turning and leaning down to grab two bottles from the fridge.
A strange warmth bloomed beneath my sternum. An increased pressure on my chest made me realize I’d brought my hand up to cover the spot, as if the heat would radiate through my skin and I’d be able to feel it.
As embarrassed as I was at being a rambling mess in front of him, the feeling in my chest grew with the thought that he’d told me to call him by a name I’d never even heard Coach Wilder use.
Not to mention that the firm, yet gentle, reassurance over my mini freakout had been exactly what I needed in this moment.
I allowed myself a second to savor the feeling before reminding myself that Ash just wanted to make me comfortable.
That he was a good guy. He wanted to help me out, not be my new best friend.
Refocusing on the screen in front of us, I schooled my features to hide how wrung out I felt.
“Thanks for what you said, Ash. I’m ready to learn, Coach,” I said, attempting to inject humor into my tone.