Because there was no way he would care. I’d just look like I was wasting his time.
I had to show him I was here to focus on hockey, not share my dreams about writing apps that would truly make people’s lives easier.
“Really?” Ash pushed, his eyes narrowing, pinning me with his gaze.
“Well, it’s just something I fool around with in the off-season, like a hobby or whatever. I kind of like knowing how things fit together. Once I learned how programs worked, I wanted to find out if I could put something new together myself.”
I shrugged, hoping my facial expression gave the impression that this topic wasn’t worth talking about.
“Hmm. I’m pretty sure it’s not as simple as you make it sound,” he murmured, rubbing the first knuckles on his right hand against the scruff on his chin. “But weshouldlook at the tapes I was talking about.”
Yes, please. Let’s move on. If we talk any more on this subject, I might not be able to hide that I wish I had other options than hockey. And that is not something I want to say in front of a literal hockey star.
There was no way Ash could understand.
At my nod, he clicked play on the screen.He immediately rattled off the part of the season opener that he wanted to focus on.
So powerful was the relief that I’d avoided talking about anything personal, my mind went blank for several seconds.
It happened like that for me sometimes. If I got too overwhelmed about a certain thing, it was as if my brain needed a hard restart.
“Cade, bud?”
Though my eyes were fixed on the screen in front of us, I hadn’t been paying attention. Ash’s words flipped the switch on my sluggish mind.
How long did I just zone out for?
“Shit! Ah, I mean, shoot. Sorry, Coach. I missed that,” I tripped over the words.
A warmth lit up Asher’s eyes at my fumbled attempt to excuse my inattention, one corner of his pink lips tilting upward in what looked like amusement.
“No problem. It seems like we’re both pretty zonked after that practice this morning. Maybe I’ll have to have a talk with Coach Wilder about his number of mandatory skates in the schedule, eh?” The one-sided curve of his mouth transformed into a full smile as he spoke.
Even if he was likely joking, the last thing I wanted him to do was cause trouble with Coach Wilder because of something to do with me. The thought alone made me sick.
“Ohmygodnodon’t,” I stammered, the words blending together in my race to get them out. “Please don’t say anything on my account. I can handle the schedule. I’m lucky to be on this team, and I know it.”
Asher’s playful smile dropped into a considering line as his eyes remained locked on my face, making me realize that I just told my coach what to do.
Double shit! “I just mean, I don’t want to be an inconvenience, and I can definitely do what needs to be done to pull my weight on the team. Not, you know, telling you not to tell Coach whatever you want to tell him. I know that’s not my call. . .” I trailed off, my shoulders tense.
Asher made no reply as he shifted his body toward mine. The move brought the front of his shin in contact with my calf muscle. The heat of his skin seeped through the thin material of my sweatpants.
The slight pressure of his leg against mine chased some of the worry from my system. Even knowing it was wrong to relish the contact with my assistant coach, I held myself still so I wouldn’t draw Ash’s attention to the point of contact between us.
“Whoa. Let’s take a deep breath here. Can you do that with me?” The earlier mirth in his gaze softened into a gentle concern.
His breathing slowed as he pulled in a deep breath of air before letting it out again. It took two more breaths before my body would cooperate and copy his.
“That’s much better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “You and I are all good, Cade. Nothing about you being here is an inconvenience to me, okay?”
He paused, waiting for my nod of agreement before continuing.
“Trust me when I say that I’m at the point in my life where I don’t do anything I don’t want to. So, please believe I’m being genuine in wanting to help you out. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t. It’s as simple as that. Does that make sense, Cade?” His voice transformed from carefully moderated to low and firm by the end of his words, leaving me zero doubt as to whether he meant them.
“I hear you,” I rasped out, trying to push down the unexpected emotion that stirred inside me.
“Good,” he said. “With that out of the way, how about a drink? Water, juice, or. . . if we say screw the nutrition plan, a Coke?”
