The Striker: Chapter 53

“I saw them on the security cameras,” Carina said breathlessly as we exited the building. “I had to tell you.”

“Saw who…” My question trailed off when we reached the car park.

I stopped.

Inhaled.

And stared.

Logically, I understood what my eyes were seeing, but my brain couldn’t fully process the spectacle.

Because staring back at me, their faces stamped with near-identical grins, was the entire Blackcastle football club. Every single one of them stood next to a different sports car like they were salesmen at a luxury auto show.

Well, almost every one of them.

My heart stopped when the two players in the middle parted, revealing a familiar head of dark hair and emerald eyes.

How…what…

My brain sputtered, at a loss for words, as Asher walked past his teammates and toward me. His mouth curved into a small smile. “Hi, darling.”

It was a simple greeting. Two words, which I’d heard plenty of times before. It shouldn’t have elicited such an instant, visceral reaction—but it did.

Every nerve ending sparked like live wires in the rain. Warmth sluiced through my body as my heartbeat slowed, trying to draw the moment out as long as possible.

Hi, darling. The only words that always made me feel like I was coming home.

They urged me to run up to him and throw my arms around his neck. To bury my face in his chest and listen to his heartbeat as proof that he was alive and here.

The compulsion was so strong, I actually took a tiny step forward before reason prevailed and I stopped myself.

Instead, I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat and gestured at the cars lined up behind him. “What’s this?”

It took all my remaining willpower not to falter as Asher closed the distance between us.

One step.

Two steps.

Three.

On and on until he came to a halt less than two feet from me—close enough for his scent to steal into my lungs and for his warmth to wrap around me like a blanket on a snowy winter night.

A shiver ghosted across my skin.

“I’ll explain in a second.” Asher’s voice pitched low enough for only my ears. “The last time we talked, you accused me of being too reckless and self-destructive. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I’ve had time to reflect on my actions and the reasons behind them, and you were right.” A cloud passed overhead, throwing the sculpted angles of his face into shadow. “I didn’t race despite the danger; I raced because of it. I loved the adrenaline. I loved the thrill of competing against death and winning. But recently, after a few…talks with other close people in my life, I realized that wasn’t the only reason.”

Asher swallowed before continuing. “When he suspended me, Coach said I lacked discipline because something deeper was driving the impulsiveness that made me do stupid things like race against Bocci. It wasn’t Holchester. It wasn’t my pride or my desire to be great. It was something else, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then my father showed up over the weekend”—his smile returned at my jerk of surprise—“yeah, I was shocked too. But he showed up and we had a long talk. He mentioned my behavior after Teddy died and how it seemed like I had a death wish at the time. That was when it hit me. I never truly reconciled my guilt over Teddy’s death. I was drawn to the danger of racing because I was trying to punish myself for what happened. Because part of me believed I should’ve been the one who died that night, not him.”

His raw confession hit me with the force of a physical blow. “Asher…”

“I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me so you’ll forgive me,” he said. “I know it’s not an excuse for the way I’ve behaved, but it’s the truth. Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect these past two weeks, and I realized something else. Whenever I thought about racing in the past, I got an adrenaline rush. I couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel and see how far it would take me. But when I think about it now, the only thing I feel is regret. Even if I hadn’t had the Teddy revelation, I would’ve felt the same way because racing is what lost me the one thing—the one person—I care about most in the world. You.”

Unshed tears sprang up in my eyes. I tried to speak, but it was impossible. Breathing was impossible. So I could only stand there, my eyes burning and my chest aching, while he slowly but systematically destroyed the defenses I’d built around my heart.

“My whole life, I focused on football and winning. That was it,” Asher said, a touch of vulnerability softening his voice. “Then you came along and shattered every preconception I had of who I was and what I wanted. You made me reevaluate my life and want to be a better person—not just for you but for me.”

One of the tears escaped and scalded my cheek. I was dimly aware that Carina was still there, and his teammates, and whoever else happened to pass by at the moment, but I didn’t care.

At that moment, no one else mattered except us.

“I can’t fully reconcile the impact Teddy’s death had on me overnight, but I think acknowledging it is a good first step. I don’t want to be the guy who lets his past and his pride drive him to reckless decisions anymore,” Asher said. “I don’t want to hurt myself or the people I care about for some short-lived high. Most of all, I don’t want to ruin my chances of spending as many days with you as possible because I love you. More than football, more than racing, more than anything else in this universe—Pluto included.”

A half laugh, half sob tore past my throat. More tears fell, but I didn’t bother trying to stop them.

Asher’s acknowledgment of my silly Pluto rant over the summer and how much the little planet meant to me in this particular moment was so perfect, so him that it made my heart squeeze.

“I love you,” he repeated, his words thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking in love with you, darling, and the only reckless thing I want to do is explore how deep this rabbit hole goes with you. Together.”

I laughed again, my own voice embarrassingly watery. “It goes pretty deep, I imagine.”

He smiled. “I think so.”

I love you. My body sang with those words, but before I could respond or acknowledge that sentiment with something more than tears, Asher stepped to the side.

“However, I know words are cheap, so I asked the guys to come and give me a hand.” He gestured at the cars. “This is my entire car collection. I’ve bequeathed one vehicle to every member of the team.”

My pulse drummed in my ears. I’d been so distracted by the team’s appearance earlier that I hadn’t paid attention to the cars themselves.

The Porsche. The Bugatti. The Jaguar.

All familiar sights from Asher’s garage, all in someone else’s hands now.

“Tell me you didn’t,” I breathed. That was millions of pounds in luxury vehicles.

Money aside, Asher loved his cars. Even if he didn’t race, that didn’t mean he had to give up his collection.

“I know we haven’t met, but you’re my favorite person ever,” the player standing next to the Porsche called out. I recognized him as Samson Agbo, one of the club’s wingers. “I got this baby for free.” He slapped the shiny black hood with affection.

“I got the Lambo!” Adil jangled his keys with a triumphant grin. “Thanks for breaking up with him, Scarlett. You should do it more often.”

The other players laughed while Asher glared at him.

I scanned the lineup until my eyes fell on Vincent, who leaned against the side of a vintage hunter green Jaguar convertible. Asher’s favorite. The one he said Holchester defaced and that kickstarted this whole mess.

Whoever he’d hired to restore the paint had done an immaculate job because there was no trace of a single scratch.

Vincent nodded when our gazes met. It was a small gesture, but I heard him loud and clear.

I had his full blessing to rekindle my relationship with Asher if I wanted.

Fresh emotion gushed into my throat.

I faced Asher again, trying to piece my wayward thoughts into a coherent response. There were so many important things I wanted to say that they eluded my grasp altogether, so I fell back on the first thing that came to mind. “If you gave away all your cars, what are you going to drive?”

His face broke out into a grin as he pointed out the car next to the Jaguar. The saloon was so bland and nondescript it’d blended into the surrounding gray cement until he directed my attention to it.

“That one,” he said, sounding proud. “It was voted the safest car in the world this year. Four-wheel antilock braking system, forward-collision warning system, front and rear head protection…who needs to go from zero to sixty in two point three seconds when you have adaptive cruise control?”

The wind carried my startled laugh through the car park. “I have no idea what any of that means, but it sounds…safe.”

“Very safe.” Asher’s expression sobered. He turned his back to the team, shielding me from their eyes as his voice dipped again. “I wanted to show how serious I was about changing. I can’t make up for what I did, but I can do everything in my power to ensure it never happens again. And I’m so fucking sorry for putting you through⁠—”

I cut him off with a kiss.

In the absence of suitable words, I let my actions do the talking. My fingers delved into his hair, and after a split second of surprised hesitation, he kissed me back, his mouth melting against mine with such exquisite intimacy that I felt it in every molecule of my body.

My mind hazed, and despite the October chill, warmth suffused my skin.

Kissing Asher again after nearly two weeks of deprivation was like breaking through the surface of water after hours of icy submersion. Every sense crystallized with poignant detail—the sensual firmness of his lips, the hint of spice in his aftershave, the strength of his hand as it cupped my face.

I barely heard the team’s whistles and catcalls as I gave in to the sweet headiness of the moment.

I couldn’t guarantee that Asher wouldn’t revert to his old habits down the road, but I trusted him. I saw the conviction in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Even if I hadn’t, the fact he was willing to give up his beloved car collection told me everything I needed to know.

Plus, if there was one thing I’d learned over the past four months, it was the importance of showing grace—both to myself and to others.

We couldn’t change the past. We could only shape the future, and I wanted a future with him. Together.

I pulled back just enough for us to catch our breaths. “Remember what you said earlier?”

“About the antilock braking system?”

“No.” I released a tiny sigh of exasperation alongside my smile. “You said you loved me.”

He slid his palm down to the nape of my neck. Its heat burned deliciously into my skin. “I said I love you more than anything else in the universe, including Pluto,” he corrected teasingly. “Don’t dilute the poetry of my words.”

“I did that on purpose. I didn’t want to sound repetitive because what I really want to say is that I love you too.” My voice softened. “More than anything else in the universe, including Pluto.”

I’d held back on telling him for so long that releasing the words into the world was its own kind of liberation.

Asher’s breath stuttered for half a beat. He hadn’t pressured me to return the sentiment earlier, nor did he seem to expect it, and that only made me love him more.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.

“I missed you,” I whispered. My tears had dried, but the emotion remained, swelling and rising behind my ribcage. “So much.”

As upset as I’d been, I’d missed him so fiercely during every second of our separation that he’d haunted my dreams more nights than I cared to admit.

Asher brushed his thumb over my cheek, his touch unbearably tender. “I missed you too, darling.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Take the Jag back from Vincent. He’ll be insufferable with it.”

As much as I appreciated Asher’s commitment to change, I wasn’t going to make him give up his favorite car. It suited him; the saloon didn’t.

Asher laughed, his eyes glittering in the late afternoon sunlight. “Done.”

Then he lowered his head and covered his mouth with mine, and everything—the cars, the people, the catcalls from his teammates—melted away again.

ASHER

“Donovan!” Coach barked. “Get your ass in here.” He disappeared back inside his office.

I ignored the team’s heckling and finished pulling my shirt over my head. “That’s getting old,” I said, giving Elliott a light shove as I walked toward Coach’s office. “Find a new schtick.”

“We’ll find a new schtick when you stop getting in trouble.” Elliot snickered. “How many times have you been called into Coach’s office this season? And it’s only November.”

“New betting pool!” Adil shouted. “Fifty quid says Donovan gets called in there at least two more times before the holidays.”

I shook my head as the rest of the team rushed to place their bets. Idiots.

However, I couldn’t summon true annoyance toward them. It’d been two weeks since Scarlett and I got back together, and I hadn’t been able to stop grinning since. I owed the team for their help (even if their “help” simply involved taking my cars off my hands and driving them to RAB), so I let their good-natured taunts slide.

I entered Coach’s office for what felt like the umpteenth time that season and waited for him to speak.

My injuries were fully healed and I was training with the rest of the team on the pitch again, but I was still benched. Unfortunately, it was harder to convince Coach I’d changed than it was Scarlett.

I doubted telling him I loved him and snogging him in front of the team would help.

Coach’s eyes slitted like he could hear my thoughts and he was not happy about them. “So,” he said. “I heard you got back together with your girlfriend.”

My mouth fell open before I snapped it shut again. Of all the topics I thought he’d want to discuss, my love life wasn’t one of them.

Not to mention…how the hell did he know about me and Scarlett?

“My daughter is friends with your girlfriend,” Coach said, answering my unspoken question. “She talks. So do they.” His jerked his chin toward the door, his face crumpled with a scowl. “Can’t tell whether I’m running a team of professional athletes or an episode of bloody Gossip Girl at times.”

Add Coach knowing what Gossip Girl was to the second shocker of the day.

“Yes, Scarlett and I are back together, sir,” I said, unsure where this was leading.

“Does she know what an idiot she’s dating?”

“Yes, sir, and she loves me anyway.”

Coach’s mouth twitched in the closest approximation of a smile I’d seen from him since his hat trick in 1995. When he noticed my answering smile, his expression morphed back into a scowl. “I also heard you gave away your fancy car collection.”

“Most of it, sir. Except for one.” I’d retrieved the Jaguar from a protesting Vincent the day after Scarlett and I made up. He pelted me with all sorts of English and French swear words, but he eventually gave up the keys with an angry grumble.

I was helping Scarlett plan a big birthday party for him next month, so hopefully that made up for it.

“You sad about it?” Coach asked.

I shook my head. “The cars were material things. I loved them, but I don’t need them anymore.”

I was working through my lingering guilt over Teddy’s death with Myles, the club’s psychologist. However, just knowing the reason behind why I acted the way I did helped me curb my worst impulses.

My emotions still got the better of me sometimes, but I didn’t vent them by punching someone or speeding in a supercar.

It was progress.

Coach grunted in reluctant approval. “You’ve worked hard in training, even while you were injured.” He examined me, his eyes shrewd. “What are your thoughts on Saturday’s match?”

I grimaced. Over the weekend, Blackcastle lost its second consecutive match. It’d been a home match, which stung even more.

“We were strong in the first half, but the attack line lagged in the second half,” I said honestly. “We weren’t as aggressive as we should’ve been, and our hesitation cost us at least one goal.”

Coach grunted again. “You’ve been a headache for me since you joined the team, Donovan, and I’ve seen your face in my office more times than I care to count. If I really wanted to teach you a lesson, I’d keep you benched through the holidays and into the new year. I don’t give a damn what the public says.”

I swallowed, my blood going cold at his words. “I understand.”

“However.” He leaned forward and tented his hands beneath his chin. “You and DuBois are finally acting like adults toward each other. You’ve demonstrated a concrete willingness to listen and change and, while he obviously can’t share details, Myles says you’re making good progress in your sessions. So I am inclined to think that maybe you’ve already learned your lesson.”

My heart sped up, but I maintained a neutral expression while I waited for him to finish. I didn’t want to jinx anything.

“I’m putting you back in for next week’s match. Consider it a trial. We’ll see where we go from there.” Coach scowled. “However, if you so much as get a speeding ticket under my watch, you’re going straight back to the bench. Am I clear?”

Overwhelming relief rushed into every cell of my body. I’m fucking back. I couldn’t wait to tell Scarlett and the team.

“Yes, sir.” My grin could’ve powered the entirety of Markovic Stadium on its own. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”