They’d have to scratch me for at least the next two games. I just hoped the head office would be understanding. I hadn’t informed them about my mom’s MS, due to Dad’s 1950s mentality about never looking less than perfect to the league.
Hell, if he could have avoided our neighbors knowing about her illness, he would have.
All my life, I’d heard, “Don’t you dare air our dirty laundry in public, Caden.” And if my mom wasn’t home, he’d end that sentence with. “Or I’ll beat you so hard with my belt you’d wish you’d never been born.”
As if every other moment in his presence didn’t already make me wish for that very thing.
My anxiety about seeing Ash stole the feeling from the tips of my fingers as I raised my partially numbed fist to rap on the hotel room door.
One pathetic tap, followed by an actual knock of my knuckles, had a barely discernible “hold on” sounding from behind the door.
My guts churned as an eternity elapsed between Ash calling out and when the door swung open partway.
His head and neck appeared in the open space. His expression turned from disgruntled to concerned in a nanosecond.
To say he looked shocked to see me would be an understatement.
“Cade?” Ash rasped, his tone deepened from sleep.
His expression did not match the thickness of his voice. Ash’s features tightened as he peered at me.
A quick glance down at my ratty sneakers made me wish I could focus on the hole that was wearing through in the side of my right shoe, rather than look Ash in the eye.
“Cade?” he repeated when I didn’t say anything.
I forced my gaze up to meet his.
“Yeah, um, hi,” I began. A slight tremor in my voice revealed my mounting panic at standing in front of him.
My hands came up to grip the strap of the duffel bag I wore on my back, needing to hold on to something.
“What’s wrong?” Ash’s eyes were suddenly clear and alert as if he had taken a shot of espresso.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I know I shouldn’t be here at two in the freakin’ morning. But Coach didn’t answer his door, and I knew I had to tell someone.” The words tumbled out in a rushed whisper.
I sucked in a breath, needing to rein in the verbal diarrhea so that I could figure out how the fuck I was going to get to Sudbury in the middle of the night without a car.
“Did someone hurt you?” His eyes darkened, his jaw clenched so hard that I feared for his molars.
“Oh god. No, no. I’m sorry. It’s nothing like that. I need to go. Back to Sudbury. It’s my mom. She slipped getting out of the shower, fell onto the bathroom tile, and had to wait until someone found her. Now she’s having surgery in the morning. . .or afternoon. The hospital can’t promise anything. On top of all that, she has MS, which makes everything about this situation complicated. She’s never had any surgeries since her diagnosis, so I have no idea what to expect. I just wanted to tell you before I started calling car rental places or organizing an Uber to get me there.”
The toxic mix of worry for my mom and shame I felt standing in front of Ash collided as I stood there, almost begging for his understanding.
The deep line between Ash’s brows receded slightly, possibly reassured by the fact that I wasn’t coming to him about some sort of inter-team hazing or something.
“Get in here, Cade.” The door swung open fully to reveal a shirtless Ash dressed only in a pair of black boxer-briefs.
Averting my eyes to respect his privacy, my mortification skyrocketed at seeing Ash in his underwear.
Years of hockey had desensitized me to guys’ bodies around the locker room. But this was different. It was like I was seeing something private that I shouldn’t be allowed to see.
I guess I’d hesitated because a hand gripped one of my wrists, pulling me inside the room. My other clammy hand still held on to my bag’s strap like it was a life preserver.
I tried to avoid looking at the back of Ash’s body illuminated by the hallway light. However, the flash of a set of well-defined shoulder blades caught my eye before the door swung shut behind us.
Ash guided me into the darkness of his room. The only hint of light came from the bottom edge of the blackout curtains. He didn’t let go of my wrist until he located a light switch. The lights on either side of the bed came on, brightening the room with a warm glow that was a direct contrast to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway.
“Sit down for a second, okay?” Ash waved at the small two-seater couch on the wall across from the bed.
