Blaze's POV
The coffee in front of me has gone cold, but I can't stop stirring it.
My phone sits beside the cup, screen dark, mocking me with its silence. Two hours.
It's been over two hours since I texted Asher about dinner plans, and the message still shows as read without a response. Two little checkmarks confirming he saw my words and chose not to reply.
I know where he is, what he's doing, who he's with—the commercial shoot with Kieran.
I've stalked the man's social media profiles more times than I want to admit—scrolled through his Instagram late at night when Asher was asleep, studied his photos with the obsessive attention of someone looking for reasons to feel threatened.
And I found them. Kieran is undeniably charismatic, effortlessly attractive, the kind of sexy that comes from complete comfort in his own skin.
His posts radiate confidence and charm, capturing a man who knows exactly how appealing he is and isn't afraid to leverage it.
My stomach twists with jealousy I have no right to feel.
"You're going to wear a hole in that screen if you keep staring at it," Sophie observes gently from across our usual café table. Her hand reaches out to touch my wrist, grounding me in the present. "Want to talk about what's really bothering you?"
The dam breaks. Everything I've been holding back floods out in a rush of words I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. The growing insecurities about my marriage that keep me awake at night.
The fears about what Asher might be doing, or feeling, when we're apart. The way Kieran looks at him in the behind-the-scenes photos the team posts, always standing just a little too close, his smile just a little too intimate.
"I feel like I'm losing him. Not to someone else, necessarily, but to this life I'm not part of anymore."
I admit, the confession scraping raw against my throat.
"He's out there building his career, being celebrated, surrounded by attractive people who understand his world. And I'm at home, planning dinner dates that get cancelled for work emergencies."
Sophie listens without interrupting, her expression carefully neutral.
"I used to be somebody. I had purpose, identity, a place in the world."
I continue, my voice is thick with frustration I've been suppressing for months.
"Captain of the Ottawa Otters. Three-time championship winner. Now I'm just... Asher's husband. The former hockey player who sits at home waiting for his successful spouse to find time for him."
The words taste bitter, shameful. I hate how small and jealous they make me sound.
"But you're not just anything," Sophie says firmly. "You're Blaze Wilson. Your worth isn't tied to a jersey or a team roster."
"Easy to say when you still have a career. When you're not watching your identity disappear while everyone around you keeps moving forward."
"Then build something new."
Her voice is gentle but direct.
"You retired from hockey, not from life. There are a thousand things you could pursue—coaching, commentary, business ventures. You have options, Blaze. You're just too stuck in what you've lost to see what you could gain."
"And Asher? What about the growing distance between us that he doesn't even seem to notice?"
Sophie sighs, leaning back in her chair. "He doesn't know how you feel. And he's not gonna know until you tell him."
"I've tried…"
"Have you? Really tried?" She raises an eyebrow. "Or have you dropped hints and hoped he'd figure it out on his own? Because from what you've described, Asher is oblivious, not uncaring. There's a difference."
I want to argue, but she's not wrong. Every time I've approached the subject, I've pulled my punches. Softened the truth. Told him everything was fine when he asked, because admitting otherwise felt like weakness.
"Every relationship goes through adjustment periods. Especially when major life changes are involved. You went from both being athletes with similar schedules to him being the only one with professional demands. That's a massive shift, and it takes time to find a new equilibrium."
"What if we never find it? What if this distance keeps growing until we're strangers who happen to share an address?"
"Then you fight for it. You communicate, even when it's uncomfortable. You demand the attention you need instead of waiting for him to offer it."
She squeezes my hand across the table. "Asher loves you, Blaze. I've seen you two together. He's not going anywhere—but he can't fix problems he doesn't know exist."
I absorb her words slowly, letting them settle into the anxious spaces in my chest. She's right. She's annoyingly, persistently right, and I hate how much I needed to hear it.
"When did you get so wise about relationships?" I ask, forcing lightness into my voice to break the heaviness of the conversation.
"I read a lot of self-help articles. Purely for research purposes."
I study her more carefully, noticing for the first time that she seems different today. Lighter somehow, with genuine smiles that reach her eyes instead of the careful masks she usually wears.
"You seem like you're in a good mood lately," I observe with a knowing grin. "Certain handsome strangers wouldn't have anything to do with that, would they?"
The blush that floods her cheeks is immediate and telling. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Eric, wasn't it? The hot guy from the night I proposed?"
"There's nothing serious between us." Sophie's voice is firm, but her eyes dart away from mine. "There never will be. My life is too complicated for relationships right now."
"Uh-huh." I file away the information with satisfaction. "Your blushing face tells a different story."
"Can we change the subject, please?"
The deflection is so obvious that I almost push harder—but something in her expression stops me. A shadow passing behind her eyes, there and gone before I can identify it.
"Actually, there is something I should probably tell you…"
She says slowly, her demeanor shifting into something more guarded.
"My father has reappeared. He's demanding money for another 'business venture.'" Her fingers form air quotes around the words, dripping with contempt.
"Jesus, Sophie. After everything he put you through?"
"Apparently his schemes don't work without someone to exploit." She shrugs with forced casualness, but I can sense she's holding something back.
The tension in her shoulders, the way she won't quite meet my eyes—there's more to this story than she's sharing. I don't push for details she's not ready to give.
"Sophie, you know you can rely on me for anything, right?" I lean forward, making sure she meets my gaze. "Whatever you need, money, support, someone to have your back, I'm here. We both are—me and Asher. You're not alone in this."
Her smile is warm but something behind it feels distant, already retreating. "Thank you, Blaze. Really. That means more than you know."
She nods like she means to accept my offer, but I can see the decision forming in her eyes—the walls going up, the determination to handle whatever this is on her own.
Some battles, her expression seems to say, have to be fought alone.
I just hope she's wrong about that.