Chapter 31 Tish
TISH
The cabin door explodes inward with such force that it bounces off the wall, and Ash fills the doorway like some avenging angel.
His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his blonde hair disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it.
But it’s his expression that stops my heart, a volatile mixture of fear and fury that makes his brown eyes darker than normal.
“Tish, I heard—” His words die in his throat as his gaze lands on Trent, who’s still standing too close to me, his face flushed with anger.
The confusion that replaces Ash’s initial panic is almost comical, his brows drawing together as he tries to process the scene before him.
“Trent, I didn’t know you were coming here.”
Trent scowls and snorts. “Apparently.” His voice is full of disapproval.
“What the hell is going on?” Ash’s voice is low, dangerous, and I can see the tension coiling in his shoulders beneath his red flannel shirt.
A small sprig of mistletoe clings to his sleeve, probably picked up from one of the many decorations scattered throughout the lodge.
Trent’s reaction is immediate and explosive. “You!” He whirls around to face Ash, his finger jabbing accusingly through the air. “This is all your fault!”
“Trent, please,” I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
“No, Tish! I’m done pretending this isn’t happening.” His voice rises with each word, and I can see the vein in his temple throbbing. “My sister was supposed to be off limits to you. You were supposed to protect her, not seduce her!”
The words hang in the air like icicles ready to fall and shatter.
Ash’s face goes completely blank, that careful mask he wears sliding into place, but I catch the flash of something raw in his eyes before it disappears.
“I don’t know what you think,” Ash begins, his voice carefully controlled.
“I know exactly what I think!” Trent’s voice rises to a near shout, his face flushed with anger. “Those pictures, Ash! Those goddamn pictures of my sister and YOU!”
I watch Ash’s expression shift from confusion to something darker, a mixture of fear and fury that makes my stomach clench.
His jaw tightens as he processes Trent’s words, and I can see the moment understanding dawns in his brown eyes.
“What pictures?” Ash asks, but his voice has gone dangerously quiet.
“The ones someone sent to my office,” Trent snarls, taking a step closer to Ash. “The ones showing Tish in…compromising situations. With you. With Jake.”
“Trent, please,” I try to interject, but my brother whirls on me.
“No, Tish! I trusted him!” He points an accusatory finger at Ash. “I trusted you to look out for her, to protect her. Not to-to seduce her!”
Ash’s hands clench into fists at his sides, and I can see the muscle in his jaw jumping. “You think I would hurt her?”
“I think you already have!” Trent’s voice cracks with emotion. “She was off limits, Ash. Off fucking limits! She’s my baby sister, and you were supposed to be my friend!”
“I am your friend,” Ash says, his voice still that dangerous quiet. “And I would never hurt Tish. I…I care for her too much.”
The admission hangs in the air between them, raw and honest and completely unexpected. My breath catches in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs.
But Trent doesn’t seem to hear the sincerity in Ash’s voice. All he hears is confirmation of his worst fears. “You son of a bitch!”
The punch comes fast and hard, Trent’s fist connecting with Ash’s jaw with a sickening crack.
Ash’s head snaps to the side, and he staggers back a step, his hand automatically rising to his face.
“Trent, no!” I scream, but it’s too late.
Ash straightens slowly, working his jaw as he stares at Trent. There’s a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, right where his old hockey scar is, and his brown eyes have gone cold.
“Feel better?” Ash asks quietly, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand.
“Not even close,” Trent snarls, and lunges at him again.
This time Ash is ready. He catches Trent’s wrist, deflecting the punch, and the two men grapple. They crash into the small table by the window, sending my coffee mug flying to shatter against the floor.
“Stop it!” I shout, trying to get between them. “Both of you, stop!”
But they’re beyond hearing me now. Years of friendship have dissolved into raw emotion and flying fists.
They slam into the wall, pictures rattling in their frames, and I have to jump back to avoid getting caught in the middle.
I can see immediately that Ash is holding back.
Every move he makes is defensive, designed to block or deflect rather than cause real damage.
Keeping up with his hockey training has made him fast and strong, and if he wanted to, I realize with a chill, he could probably end this fight in seconds.
He could wipe the floor with Trent without breaking a sweat.
But he doesn’t.
Even as Trent lands another punch to his ribs, even as they crash into my small kitchenette and send dishes clattering, Ash continues to pull his punches.
He’s trying not to hurt his best friend, even as that same friend is trying to hurt him.
“Please!” I try again, my voice breaking. “Please stop fighting!”
They don’t listen. Trent tackles Ash around the waist, and they both go down hard, rolling across the floor of my small cabin.
The sound of their struggle—grunts of effort, the thud of bodies hitting furniture—fills the space.
That’s when I notice the door.
In his fury, Ash had burst through it and never bothered to close it behind him.
It stands wide open, and I can see curious faces beginning to gather in the snow.
“Oh god,” I whisper, recognizing some of the other players. Word of this fight will spread through the team like wildfire.
The last thing we need right now, with everything else going wrong, is for the team captain to be brawling with a civilian.
“Guys, seriously, people are watching!” I call out desperately.
Jake appears in the doorway, his green eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “What the hell?”
Behind him, I can see more faces. Other players, some of the support staff.
“Jake, help me stop this!” I plead.
Jake starts forward, but before he can intervene, Trent manages to land a solid punch to Ash’s stomach.
Ash doubles over with a grunt of pain, and Trent scrambles to his feet, breathing hard.
“Stay away from my sister,” Trent pants, pointing down at Ash. “I mean it, Ash. Stay the hell away from her.”
Ash slowly pushes himself up to his knees, one hand pressed to his stomach.
His lip is split now, and there’s going to be a bruise on his jaw, but his eyes are still focused on Trent with that same careful control.
“I can’t do that,” he says quietly.
“You can and you will,” Trent snaps. “Or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Ash gets to his feet, and despite his injuries, he still cuts an intimidating figure. “You’ll kick my ass? You can try, Trent, but we both know how that’ll end.”
The threat is subtle but unmistakable. I can see the moment Trent realizes it too, the way his eyes widen slightly, the way he takes an unconscious step back.
Trent’s gaze flicks to the doorway, where the crowd of onlookers has grown even larger.
His face flushes with embarrassment and renewed anger.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he says, his voice rising again. “Look at this mess! Look at what you’ve done to her reputation!”
“I didn’t take those pictures,” Ash says coldly. “And I sure as hell didn’t send them to anyone.”
“But you gave them something to photograph!” Trent shoots back.
The accusation hangs in the air, and I feel my cheeks burn with shame.
Because Trent is right, isn’t he? If I hadn’t gotten involved with Ash—with Jake, with Carl—there wouldn’t be any compromising pictures to take.
“That’s enough,” I say, my voice stronger now. “Both of you, that’s enough.”
But neither man is listening to me.
They’re staring at each other with years of friendship and trust crumbling between them, and I don’t know how to fix it.
The crowd in the hallway murmurs among themselves, and I can hear fragments of conversation drifting in.
My humiliation is complete.
Not only is my private life being splashed across gossip sites, but now the entire team is witnessing my drama play out in real time.
“Everyone needs to leave,” I say, raising my voice. “Now. This is a private matter.”
Some of the players start to disperse, but Jake remains in the doorway, his expression concerned. “Tish, are you okay?”
Before I can answer, camera equipment and boom mics appear in my doorway, and I can see the red recording light blinking on the main camera. The docuseries crew!
“No,” I breathe, taking a step back. “No, no, no…”
But it’s too late. The damage is done.
The cameras are rolling, capturing every detail of this moment.
Ash with his split lip and bruised jaw, Trent with his disheveled hair and furious expression, my own mortified face as I realize that this private family crisis is about to become very, very public.
The documentary crew pushes further into the room, their equipment trained on the three of us like predators scenting blood in the water.