Chapter 18 #2
I’ve always told myself that now that I have Lyla, this kind of thing doesn’t matter to me. But that’s a lie. It does.
It’s just that I’ve never seriously felt like I was missing out until now.
I clear my throat, pushing the emotion back down. “Have you talked to them much lately?” And yeah, maybe it’s none of my business, but that doesn’t change the fact that I desperately want to know. Just because I had to draw a line between us romantically doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped caring.
He shakes his head, and I expect that to be the end of it. Which means that I’m shocked when he tells me more. “I do make sure that I call home at least once a week, but it’s just really fucking hard. I don’t know what to say to them.”
“I don’t know if they expect you to say anything specific. I’m sure they just want to hear your voice and make sure that you’re okay, too.” Our shoulders and arms are brushing while we walk, and I wish that I could scoop him up in a hug and make him believe me.
Stopping at the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, he turns his body toward me. His eyes are full of sadness when he says, “But it’s my fault. It’s all my fault that Olivia’s gone. I could barely look them in the eyes before I left. How do we ever come back from that?”
“Asher…” My own voice is low and soft when I tell him, “What happened wasn’t your fault.
Not at all. Not by a long shot.” I grab his hand then, not caring what it looks like.
I need him to really understand me. “What happened was tragic, but it’s not your fault,” I reiterate.
“And the longer you hang on to thinking like that, the longer two incredible people are snuffed out of this world unfairly.”
He swallows. “That’s easier said than done.”
“Look at what you’ve already accomplished.
” He averts his gaze, and I squeeze his hand to get his attention again.
I’m not letting him shrug this off. “Next week, we’re going to be doing your sessions on the ice.
That’s insane, Asher. Even if it doesn’t feel like it, you’re doing the work.
It’s only been three-and-a-half months since your injury.
That’s an incredible recovery timeline.”
If all goes well, he’ll actually be ready to play again by mid-January. Sure, it’s still over two months away, but it means that he’ll be able to play almost the entire second half of the season.
He drops his gaze down to my lips, lowering his voice when he says, “Once I’m not under your care anymore does that mean…”
Heat flairs through me, his implication clear. Once he’s not working regularly with me, does that mean that we can explore the connection between the two of us?
Lyla’s making her way around the houses on the cul-de-sac with my parents in tow, and I’m both terrified that they’ll interrupt us but also wishing that I didn’t have to tell him no again. Both because I don’t want to tell him no and because I’m not sure that I can.
“It really shouldn’t change anything. I’m still the team’s physical therapist, and you’ll still be a player.” What I do know is that he’s going to be the death of me, and I can only withstand so much.
His lips twitch before he gives me a lop-sided smile, like for some insane reason, he’s okay with what I’ve said. “Shouldn’t doesn’t mean won’t.”
I groan. “I don’t think that’s what you should be taking away from this conversation.”
He shrugs adorably. “Well, it’s what I’m doing.”
“Asher,” I say low–a warning. Our hands are still clasped, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his calloused palms.
“You feel it, too. I know that you do,” he presses, shooting a glance over toward where Lyla and my parents are finishing up at the last house. Slowly, he releases my hand so that we’re still standing close but no longer touching. “I’m not trying to make this harder for you.”
Yeah, right. “It doesn’t exactly feel that way from where I’m standing.”
“It’s not my fault that you can’t resist my natural charm,” he flirts, and it looks good on him. Granted, everything looks good on him, but I love when he’s playful and at ease. After what he’s gone through, it makes me so fucking happy to see.
“Can we at least try to not cross any other lines?” I drag my gaze away from his lips, knowing that I’m not doing anything to put us in a better position either.
He clicks his tongue, and it’s so goddamn annoying how I find every single thing that he does attractive. Finally, he holds up his hands. “I’ll give it my best shot. As long as you don’t keep icing me out.”
“Being professional isn’t icing you out,” I defend.
It’s been so hard these last few weeks, only discussing his treatment plan with him and trying to forget how good his body felt against mine.
But I needed to put some distance between us for my own sanity.
And so that I didn’t do something incredibly stupid like knock on his door at two a.m. and do everything that I’ve been fantasizing about.
He grows serious when he says, “You’re too important to me. Even if it’s not romantic. Okay?”
It’s bound to blow up in my face, but I don’t want to turn him away. We just have to do our damndest to keep this thing between us under control.
Finally, I nod. “So… friends?” We aren’t that far apart in age.
He’s my neighbor. And, the fact is that we do get along really well.
It’s been years since I’ve had someone that I could call a real friend, and Asher’s just fallen into my lap.
I swear inwardly for my choice of phrase.
It will get easier. It has to get easier.
Lyla and my parents are almost back to us, and I look at him for agreement since we probably won’t have another moment alone.
“I can do friends,” he relents, even though I can practically see the words on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say.
I love a good plan, and I try to let the agreement that we’ve just come to soothe me. But the truth is that I’m not sure whether I’m worried that he’s the one who can’t stick to it.