Chapter 15
Thayer
Ash was playing like crap.
Almost two months of watching the guy play–I knew what he was capable of, and he wasn’t showing it tonight.
He was clearly angry when he got here, but I assumed he’d be feeling some kind of way. He’d told me when he left that he was calling Callie and that he planned to be vaguely honest with her, at least with why they were breaking up, so I anticipated some kind of reaction.
Anger and avoidance of me were not what I was expecting–irritation and maybe a little whiny, sure, but not what I got.
By the end of the second period, Ash was a mess.
He was snippy and rude with everyone, sitting by himself during intermission and clenching his jaw so hard I was worried he’d break a tooth.
I couldn’t take it anymore–I was trying to keep our new boundaries in place here, but his feelings were mine to care for now, and he was upset.
I couldn’t let him just stay like that.
“Training room. Now,” I said quietly but sternly into Ash's ear as he came off the ice. He looked up, and his eyes met mine, softening just a hair for me–finally.
Ash took off his helmet at his locker, leaving it and most of his padding behind before following me to a training room. He normally took his padding off between periods to cool down faster, so no one batted an eye at him or us as I shut the door.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” I asked firmly, meeting Ash in the middle of the quiet room.
“Nothing–”
“Ash, for the first time since I met you, you are favoring your right leg–what’s wrong with your leg?” I noticed it more in the first period, but he was clearly favoring his right leg on blocks.
Ash was quiet for a second, flexing his jaw and avoiding my eyes. “It’s not my leg… It’s my foot… I kicked a door,” he muttered.
“And why did you kick a door?”
Ash’s mouth shut entirely, his face falling as he teetered between his feet in front of me.
“I broke up with Callie, and she took it…bad,” he mumbled, shaking his head like it wasn't all that big of a deal.
“Called me a name and left–I was just mad–I've been mad all afternoon, and it won't go away.
I can't self-regulate anymore–I don’t know what's wrong–”
He stopped talking on his own when I put my hand up, his eyes locking with mine with an almost relieved sigh. “You can self-regulate still, and you will–you just now know there's a shortcut,” I offered, putting my hand down. “What did she call you?”
“I don’t want to say it.”
“Why not?”
Ash was quiet again, dropping my gaze, and I knew in that moment what she called him.
I'd been called it a thousand times before and had grown a kind of thick skin to it specifically. No matter how thick Ash’s skin already was, nothing prepared you for that first time you got called that word.
I was sure Ash didn’t show it to her, but all that anger was loud enough for me.
“It’s a word, Ash,” I said calmly, resting a hand on the side of his neck, stroking my thumb along his jaw. “This is normal–your reactions are normal, baby.”
His chin started to wobble, and I realized quickly what he needed…and that it broke our boundaries.
“Make it twenty more minutes,” I said firmly, letting my hand drop from his face. “Make it through the last period, Ash. I can fix this when we get home, but not here–”
“Just a little?” he asked, his voice already cracked.
Poor baby.
He could still self-regulate, but it was just human nature to seek out the easiest route when you were upset. He didn’t really want me to do anything right now–not really–but loopy-Ash did–he wanted it so badly.
Every instinct I had screamed to take care of him.
“No, baby,” I said softly, resting an open hand over the back of his neck, just to pull him in for a quick kiss–something to settle him, even if I really shouldn’t have done it here. “I promise I will make it better when we leave. You just need to make it through twenty more minutes on that ice–”
“It’s not really twenty minutes,” he mumbled.
“It’s a timer that you can watch, baby,” I corrected, releasing him. “Play hard, watch it go down, and I’ll look at your foot after–”
“I want to go home after,” he sighed, dropping his head back with a quick, refocusing shake. “Can you look at my foot at home?”
My mind went blank for a moment, struggling to stay on task.
The surge of joy I felt deep in my stomach at his referring to my place as home…I couldn’t explain that. I understood how dangerous we were and how fast that assumption came to…
But I just no longer cared.
This made me happy, and it was making him happy–that was all I cared about now.
“Yeah, baby…I can look at it at home.”