Chapter 11
Kai
The walk across the parking lot feels like moving underwater.
I don't remember leaving the arena. I don't remember crossing the sidewalk.
One moment I'm standing in the hallway staring at Ash while he presses his car keys into my hand.
The next I'm unlocking the passenger door with fingers that don't feel like mine.
The door clicks open. I climb inside. The car smells faintly of cedar, leather, and whatever cologne Ash wears. It's becoming a familiar scent. One that my brain immediately associates with quiet.
I don't deserve that association.
My vision blurs as I lean forward until my forehead rests against the dashboard. The surface is cool beneath my skin. I close my eyes.
Noah Grove.
The words repeat over and over until they stop sounding like words and become something heavier.
A punishment. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe this is finally the universe balancing the scales. Maybe I was never supposed to escape.
The passenger door had barely closed before the panic started pressing against my ribs. I try to breathe the way Ash told me to in the hallway, but every breath catches halfway down.
In.
Out.
In—
William's throat.
Blood on the ice.
The screaming.
My stomach twists violently. I squeeze my eyes shut harder.
I hear the rear hatch open. Equipment bags hit the back of the SUV with two heavy thuds.
A second later the driver's door opens. The seat shifts beneath Ash's weight.
Neither of us speaks immediately. The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's cautious. Like Ash is trying to figure out the safest way to approach a wounded animal.
I hear the rustle of his jacket. Then warmth settles against the back of my neck.
His hand. His fingers curl gently where my neck meets my shoulders, and his thumb brushes slow circles against my skin.
The simple touch pulls my attention away from the thoughts threatening to drown me.
“Hey.” His voice is quieter than I've ever heard it.
Not commanding or teasing, just...gentle.
I don't lift my head. I don't think I can.
Ash shifts closer until I can feel him looking at me. “Kai.”
I force my eyes open. Slowly I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze.
His expression catches me off guard. His eyebrows are furrowed, and a few strands of black hair have fallen into his eyes. “Do you want me to take you home?”
Home. The word sends another wave of panic through me. If I go home, the apartment will be silent. The silence will become memories. The memories will become William.
My breathing begins to quicken again.
“I...” My voice cracks. “I can't.”
My hands are shaking now. “I can't...” I swallow hard. “I can't handle the silence.”
The confession hangs between us. Humiliating. Pathetic.
Ash's thumb never stops moving. “You don't have to.”
I blink. He says it so simply. As though there was never another option.
“I'm taking you to my place,” he says.
I stare at him. “You don't have to—”
“I'm taking you to my place.” His words are stern. Final. Like, he knows I'm two seconds away from arguing with him.
For the first time since Coach said Noah's name, a tiny part of my brain unclenches.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” His hand stays exactly where it is while he starts the engine.
He doesn't rush to drive away. He waits until my breathing evens out just enough that I don't look like I'm about to pass out. Only then does he pull out of the parking lot.
The drive is quiet. The radio stays off. Traffic hums around us. Every few minutes Ash says something. Not to start a conversation. Just enough to keep me anchored.
“Breathe.”
I do.
“Good.”
A few blocks later— “You're doing okay.”
I'm not, but hearing him say it makes me want to try.
His thumb continues moving against the back of my neck.
Slow.
Steady.
Back and forth.
I focus on that instead of the thoughts in my head. The roughness of his fingertips. The warmth of his palm. The weight of his hand.
Every time my mind starts drifting back toward William, Ash says something else.
“Stay with me.”
“I'm here.”
“One breath at a time.”
Nobody has ever talked to me like this. Not after the accident. People either pretended nothing happened or treated me like I might shatter if they looked at me too hard.
Ash does neither.
He simply stays.
By the time we pull into the underground garage beneath his building, my breathing has slowed enough that my chest no longer hurts. The panic hasn't disappeared.
It's just… Quieter.
Ash parks the SUV and turns off the engine. His hand finally leaves my neck.
I miss it immediately. The realization startles me.
“I'll grab the bags.”
I nod automatically. The movement feels robotic. Ash circles around the vehicle and opens my door before I even think to reach for the handle.
I climb out. My legs feel strangely heavy. He slings both hockey bags over one shoulder as if they weigh nothing.
Then he looks at me. “Come on.”
I follow. The elevator ride passes in complete silence. I'm vaguely aware of the polished steel walls. The numbers climbing above the door. Ash standing beside me. Nothing feels entirely real. When the elevator doors open, I simply keep following him.
His condo door unlocks. Warm light spills into the hallway. Ash steps inside first, leading me in. The familiar smell of cedar and coffee wraps around me. He drops both equipment bags beside the front door before turning back toward me. “Sit.”
I look at the couch. Then at him. He nods once.
“Stay there for a minute.”
I lower myself onto the cushions without arguing. Ash disappears down the hallway.
The condo suddenly feels too quiet. The thoughts immediately begin creeping back. He's only gone for a few seconds. He's already doing enough. He shouldn't have to babysit me too. The realization twists painfully in my chest.
What am I doing here?
I'm acting like a weepy toddler while sitting on my teammate's couch because I can't survive being alone for an hour.
He deserves better than this. He deserves someone normal. Someone who doesn't bring ghosts into every room.
By the time Ash reappears, tears are burning behind my eyes. I stand quickly. “I'm sorry.”
He stops. “What?”
“I'm sorry.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I shouldn't have come here.”
“Kai.”
“I'll just go home.” I wipe at my face angrily. “I'm not worth all this fuss. I'll just call a cab. Thanks for the help.”
I cross to the door.
He doesn't hesitate. Ash rushes across the room to stop me. I freeze.
His hands cup my face with startling gentleness.
Warm palms.
Rough fingertips.
He waits until I'm looking directly at him.
Then he speaks. “Don't ever say that shit to me again.”
There's no anger in his voice, only conviction. “You hear me?”
I can't answer. My throat has closed completely.
Ash's thumbs brush beneath my eyes. “You are allowed to have feelings.”
My vision blurs.
“You are allowed to have bad days.” Another tear escapes. “And you are absolutely worth helping.”
Something inside me cracks painfully. “I—”
My voice disappears.
“I want you here. Let me help you.”
For a terrifying second, I almost believe him.
“Come with me.”
I follow him into the bathroom. Steam already curls softly from the shower he'd started while I sat in the living room. Ash sets the towels on the counter before turning toward me.
“Get in the shower.”
I hesitate.
He studies me for a moment. “You'll feel better.”
I nod. My hands feel strangely clumsy as I begin removing my clothes.
A few days ago, I had stood in front of this man with far less on and barely thought about it.
Now every movement feels different. More vulnerable. Less about desire. More about being seen.
For reasons I can't explain, that feels infinitely more intimate.
Ash watches me before averting his eyes, like he can tell I'm nervous.
He quietly strips down as well, moving with the same calm confidence he seems to bring into every room.
I watch as the clothes drop from him, revealing strong tanned muscle.
There isn't any urgency in the way he moves, no expectation hanging in the air between us.
He pulls the hair tie from his hair and drops it on the counter.
When we're both ready, he steps beneath the warm spray first and holds the curtain aside for me. The water is almost painfully hot. It feels good.
I close my eyes as it runs over my shoulders.
For the first minute, neither of us speaks. The only sound is rushing water.
Ash reaches for the shampoo bottle. “Come here.”
I obey before my brain catches up.
His fingers disappear gently into my hair. He works the shampoo in slowly, careful not to rush or tug, his movements patient in a way I wouldn't have expected from someone who usually carries himself with so much authority.
“You don't have to hold yourself together. Not with me,” he says quietly over the sound of the water.
I don't answer. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll start crying again.
He rinses the soap from my hair before grabbing a washcloth. His hands drag over me, cleaning the sweat away, wiping a streak of dried athletic tape residue from my shoulder.
I breathe in the hot steam and heavy scent of his soap pressing against my mind. The cloth drags down my chest, his hand steadying my waist.
My hands act without me thinking, pushing Ash's long hair out of his face. His eyes catch mine, a single strand hanging over his forehead. My hands rest at the base of his neck.
I don't want to think. I don't want to be in this body anymore.
Ash looks away from my heated gaze and continues to clean me, but I notice his cock twitch between us.
“Ash.” My hands slide down to rest on his large pecs.
Rough brown eyes meet mine. “What do you need?”
The sentence makes my heart quiver. The gentleness of his voice. The softness of his hands.
“You,” I say. “I need you.”
His face softens, a growing need warming his eyes, but he shakes his head. “Kai—”
I kiss his lips. Once. Twice. The second, I suck his bottom lip into my mouth. A groan rumbles in his chest.
My hand slips between us, the soap and warm water slicking his skin. I work his dick in my hand.