CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Asher
Whatever game this is, I can’t play it.
My sneakers pounded the asphalt while Kaia’s words looped in my head like a sad soundtrack to my run.
I hated myself for hurting her. She’d been there for me on one of the hardest days of the year—offering reassurance without asking for anything back—and I made her cry.
Who tells a girl he wants to kiss her and then takes it back?
Me.
I needed to make up my damn mind. Ale was still waiting for my answer about the Spanish team, and I kept stalling. The thought of leaving Kaia twisted my insides, but even if I stayed, we couldn’t be together. Which left me back at square one.
“Ash.”
Ale caught up, panting. Sweat glistened on his forehead, hair plastered to his temples.
“You’re out of shape,” I said without breaking stride. He was ripped and ran daily, but it felt good to rib him.
He let out a dry laugh and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Running in his neighborhood wasn’t bad, but I’d take grass over asphalt any day. Since moving to Stetbourg, I hadn’t spent nearly enough time in nature.
I slowed. “That’s it? All you’ve got?”
Ale shot me the finger. “I went out last night.”
“And?”
He smirked. “And that’s all you need to know.”
“Got it. Coffee?”
He nodded. “There’s a spot nearby.”
“Lead the way.”
Five minutes later, we sat at a window table in a cozy place called Coffee Break. A waitress took our order, and while she walked away, my eyes snagged on a Help Wanted sign taped near the counter.
I snapped a picture. When I set my phone down, Ale arched a brow. “That’s quite a shift from racing, but hey—whatever floats your boat.”
“Nah. Not for me. It’s for Kaia.”
Ale rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Kaia…”
“Russell’s daughter.”
Recognition flickered in his eyes. As soon as the auburn-haired waitress set our espressos down, he took a sip and set the cup aside. “Isn’t she a kid?”
“Nah. She’s eighteen.”
Ale toyed with a sugar packet. “Interesting. Pretty?”
The hell? My fists clenched before I could stop them. “You’re thirty-one. What the fuck?”
Ale’s warm chuckle made me want to fucking disappear. I’d played right into his hands. I should’ve remembered he was the most perceptive guy I knew.
A catchy song drifted from the speakers, but I barely heard it, too focused on Ale.
“Now things make more sense,” he said, tossing the sugar packet aside.
“What things?”
“That you weren’t as excited about the offer as I thought.”
My stomach churned. I didn’t want him thinking I didn’t appreciate everything he’d done. His help was the reason I’d gotten this far.
“I was excited,” I said. “Just… caught off guard.”
He rolled up his sleeves and clasped his hands under his chin. “She’s the reason you’re hesitating, isn’t she?”
I exhaled hard. Mierda. I could lie to myself, but Ale deserved honesty.
“It’s a fucking mess,” I admitted, staring into the nearly black coffee. “I’m not supposed to want her. Russell owns my team.”
Ale scanned the café before pinning me with his green eyes, mercifully free of judgment. “That could be a problem, mi nino, unless he’s fine with you dating his daughter.”
“We’re not dating. Nothing’s happened.”
Ale’s brow arched. “But you want it to.”
“Maybe.”
The word slipped out, raw. First time I’d said it aloud—maybe even to myself. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend; no pro athlete in my position would. Once the season kicked off, I’d have no time for anything but racing.
The timing was shit. All of it was.
And still, I wanted her.
Ale drained the rest of his coffee. “You can’t choose who you like, but there’s a lot at stake. Your career. The fact you live under the same roof. Your parents dating. If it goes wrong, it could blow up fast.”
“I know.” I spun my cup on the saucer. “What would you do?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “I’d look hard at the offer first. Don’t start anything with Kaia if you’re going back to Spain. You’d only hurt her.”
Her voice echoed in my head, sharp as the night she told me she couldn’t do this anymore. And she was right—I’d already hurt her.