Asher’s POV
I don't sleep.
The entire night passes in restless turns, my mind churning through images of Blaze in a suit instead of hockey gear. Blaze at some corporate job.
Blaze pushing a stroller through suburbia with Sophie at his side. Blaze disappearing into a life where hockey, where I become nothing more than distant memories.
By morning, the rational part of my brain has lost the war.
I can't just sit here and watch him walk away from everything we both sacrificed so much for. Not without saying something, not without trying.
I pull strings. Make calls and cash in favors I've been saving for emergencies.
"You want what?" My contact at the Ottawa organization sounds confused.
"Just need to know when Wilson will be at your facility today. Nothing crazy. I'm not planning to cause trouble."
A pause. "He's got evening training scheduled. Private session, seven to nine."
"Thanks, I owe you one."
"You owe me several. And Carpenter? Whatever this is about, don't make me regret helping you."
Hours later, I'm standing in the shadows of Ottawa's practice facility, my breath misting in the cold air. Through the glass, I can see him skating alone under the harsh arena lights.
He looks different. Slower. More careful. The explosive power that used to define his game is muted, like he's constantly holding back. Like he's afraid of his own body betraying him again.
This isn't the Blaze Wilson who used to tear up the ice. This is someone playing scared.
I step onto the ice.
The sound of my skates echoes through the empty arena. Blaze stops mid-stride, turning toward me with an expression of pure disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Heard you're thinking about quitting." I skate closer, my voice carrying in the cavernous space. "Came to tell you that's the stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard."
"Excuse me?" His face hardens. "Who asked for your opinion?"
"Nobody. But you're getting it anyway." I stop a few feet away, close enough to see the anger building in his eyes. "You can't just walk away from this, Blaze. You can't throw away everything you've worked for."
"Watch me." He starts skating away from me.
I follow. "This is your life. Hockey is your life."
"Hockey was my life," he corrects, spinning to face me again. "Now I have other priorities."
"Like what? Playing house with Sophie?"
The words come out more bitter than I intended. Blaze's expression darkens.
"That's none of your business."
"It is when you're talking about abandoning your career for it."
"Abandoning?" His voice rises, echoing off the arena walls. "I'm making a choice. About my future. My happiness. Things you wouldn't understand."
"I understand plenty."
"Do you?" He skates closer, aggressive now. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're jealous that I found something worth more than getting my brains beaten in for a paycheck."
"This isn't about money and you know it."
"Then what is it about, Asher? Why are you here? Why do you give a shit what I do with my life?"
A maintenance worker has stopped his cleaning to watch us. Someone in the stands, a reporter, maybe, or just a fan, is holding up their phone.
"Can we not do this in front of an audience?" I ask.
"Why? Afraid of what people will think?"
The accusation stings because it's true. I'm always afraid of what people will think.
"Fine," Blaze says after a moment. "Five minutes. But then you leave."
We retreat to a corridor near the locker rooms. The door closes behind us, and suddenly the space feels impossibly small. Just us and the echoes of our breathing and everything we've never said to each other.
"Talk," Blaze demands. "You wanted privacy. Now tell me why you really came here."
I stare at him, memorizing the familiar lines of his face. The scar above his left eyebrow from a puck in junior league. The way his hair curls slightly when it's damp with sweat. The brown eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the world.
I want to say everything. That watching him build a life with Sophie is killing me. That I've never stopped loving him, not for a single day in the past year. That the thought of him leaving hockey feels like losing him all over again, and I can't survive that twice.
My eyes are burning. My throat is closing up. And I know he can see it—can see everything I'm failing to hide.
"Why do you care so much about what I do with my life?" His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. "We're nothing to each other anymore. You made sure of that."
The words are knives, but they're not wrong. I did make sure of that. I chose fear over love, hiding over honesty, safety over him. Every single time it mattered.
"I..." The confession claws at my throat, desperate for release. "I care because..."
"Because what?"
Because I love you. Because I've always loved you. Because watching you disappear from hockey means watching you disappear from my life completely, and I'm not strong enough for that.
But I can't say it. Can't lay myself bare when he's already chosen someone else. When he's building a future with Sophie and I'm just the ghost haunting his past.
"Just don't quit," I say instead, my voice hollow. "Hockey needs you. The league needs you."
I need you.
But that part stays locked away, unspoken and useless.
Disappointment flickers across Blaze's face—subtle but unmistakable. Like he was waiting for me to finally be brave, and I failed him again.
"That's it?" he asks. "That's why you came all the way here? To tell me the league needs me?"
"I..." I try again, but the words won't come. The same fear that's controlled my entire life wraps around my throat like a noose.
Blaze stares at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. "I should have known. You never could say what you really mean when it mattered."
"Blaze…"
"No. I'm done." He moves toward the door. "I think you should go."
"Wait—"
"Go, Asher." He doesn't look back. "Before you say something else you'll regret."
I stand frozen in the corridor as his footsteps fade away. The silence fills the space where my words should have been, where my courage should have lived.
I came here to save him from making the biggest mistake of his life.
Instead, I've just proven exactly what Blaze has always known about me: when it matters most, Asher Carpenter is too much of a coward to say what he really means.
Some things never change. Even when they should. Even when everything depends on it.