Page 23 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“Knowing more about you helps me, especially when we’re out on the ice.” Cade smiles faintly. “Look, I’m not saying I know exactly what you’re dealing with because of my own burdens, but I’ve seen how you work, Asher. You’re one of the mostfocused, detail-oriented players I’ve ever met. That’s part of why you’re so good and why our team is lucky we snagged you. Juggling that noise in your head can get harder, and the majority of us on this team have had our struggles with it. It’s not the easiest, but at least you’re surrounded by people who definitely get it more than others probably have before.”
His words hit harder than I expect, and for the first time, I feel the weight in my chest ease, just a little. I glance at him, surprised to see something softer in his expression—understanding, maybe. Cade isn’t the type to get overly sentimental, but he’s got this way of cutting through the noise and getting to the heart of a thing.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know.”
He nods once, like that’s all he needed to hear, then adds, “You know, with my mom, some days she’s up and moving like nothing’s wrong. Other days, she can’t get out of bed. But she’s got her doctors, her meds, her routines. She does what she can, and she leans on us when she needs to. Chronic’s chronic, man. You’ve gotta treat it like the long game it is.”
Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten. Chronic is chronic. Like he’s giving me permission to stop trying to fix everything all at once and just…manage it.
“Thanks,” I say, meaning it.
“Anytime,” Cade replies. “Now, you wanna hit those reps or keep reorganizing the weights?”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Reps.”
“Good call.” Cade grins. “But if you get the urge to fix the plates later, I won’t judge. I also have a kitchen that could use a quick clean?—”
I grab an old towel from a bench and chuck it at his head. “My powers are only used for good, not as a maid service.”
“Just use that power and quick,” he says as he claps me on the shoulder before stepping back, “before Weston gets here and starts hogging the rack.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the side door. It swings open a second later, and Weston’s voice booms through the space. “What’s up, guys? Are you ready to make me look good?”
“More like ready to show you up,” Cade shoots back with a smirk. Weston grins as he steps inside, already pulling off his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with the local pizzeria’s logo.
“We’ll see about that,” Weston says, dropping his bag near the bench. He nods at me. “Tremblay. Looking sharp.”
“Always,” I reply with a grin. Weston’s energy is infectious, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest eases.
As I grab my water bottle, my phone buzzes on the bench. I glance at the screen and swipe open the message before I can think too hard about it. The text is short, simple, but it’s enough to send my pulse skittering.
Hey Asher, I wanted to get a time on the calendar to meet with you.
Mabel.
From Maple Falls.
I’m happy to set up a time to talk.
Yes, apparently I’m the guy who fires off several messages in a row and doesn’t just get his thoughts together in one succinct text. I wait patiently for her reply. When she doesn’t come back, the part of me that wants to hold back and not ask a bunch of questions, and fight for control, is starting to fade. The obsessed man who needs to know all the things is, instead, battling for a front-row seat to the Mabel and Asher show.
What do you need from me?
Just some options for days and times you’re free. Can be at the rink during practice or after if that’s best.
The thought of her being near me while we’re alone is one thing, but having her in my sacred space while I get ready for our first game is actually akin to having someone throw a bucket of ice on my head while I stand naked on a pond in mid-December in Manitoba.
Coach says visitors at the rink this week are a no-go. But once we have our first game, then we can set a day for that part of the interview if it’s cool?
I can fit in however works best. If you want to wait we can. Would you be able to meet up in the meantime so I can ask you a few questions and get started?
We’re practicing a lot this week.
Maybe breakfast or lunch?
Can’t. Not when we’re at the arena all day.
You’re really trying to make this hard on me, aren’t you?
