Blaze’s POV
Sleep doesn't come easily that night.
I lie awake beside Sophie, listening to her soft, even breathing while my mind churns through everything that happened at the arena. Asher's desperate eyes. The words he couldn't say. The way my chest tightened when he walked away, leaving nothing but echoes and regret.
Sophie shifts beside me, her hand finding my arm in sleep, and I try to focus on the warmth of her touch. Try to anchor myself in this moment, this bed, this life we're building together.
But memories I've spent years suppressing claw their way to the surface anyway.
Three years ago. Late summer. The cottage.
It was one of those rare weekends when the world couldn't touch us. No teammates demanding answers about where we'd disappeared to. No coaches scheduling mandatory team events. No media obligations or family dinners or any of the thousand things that usually kept us apart.
Just me and Asher, alone on the lake, with nothing but water and trees and the kind of silence that felt like freedom instead of loneliness.
We'd spent the entire day doing nothing important. Swimming in the cold lake until our lips turned blue and we had to drag each other back to shore, shivering and laughing. Attempting to cook dinner together and failing spectacularly, ending up with burnt pasta and smoke filling the kitchen while we drank too much wine and pretended we knew what we were doing.
"We're never going to make it as domestic partners," Asher had said, waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm.
"Speak for yourself. I'm excellent at domestic partnerships." I'd stolen the towel from him, our fingers brushing as he let me take it. "I just need a partner who can actually cook."
"Noted. I'll work on that."
The casual way he said it—like we had all the time in the world to figure it out together—had made my chest tight with something I couldn't name.
Asher had laughed then—really laughed, the kind that transformed his entire face and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. I remember thinking I'd never seen anything more beautiful than Asher Carpenter laughing in my kitchen, wine-flushed and completely unguarded.
As the sun set and painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, we'd taken our wine out to the dock. Our feet dangled in the water, toes creating ripples that caught the dying light.
"This is nice," I'd said, leaning back on my elbows.
"Yeah." But Asher had been quieter then, reflective, his gaze fixed on something I couldn't see. "Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
He'd turned to me with those ice-blue eyes, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "I didn't know it was possible to feel this safe with another person."
The words had hit me like a physical thing, settling deep in my chest where they still lived.
"Safe?"
"Like I don't have to perform. Like I can just... be." He'd taken a shaky breath. "I've been pretending to be someone else for so long, I forgot what it felt like to just exist without apologizing for it."
I'd kissed him then. Couldn't help myself. Started slow, savoring the taste of wine on his lips, the way he melted into me like he'd been waiting for this moment all day.
But the heat between us never stayed contained for long.
His hands had found my hair, tugging me closer, and I'd groaned against his mouth.
We'd stumbled back toward the cottage, barely making it through the door before clothes started falling away—my shirt somewhere in the living room, his shorts kicked aside in the hallway.
"Bedroom," I'd managed between kisses.
"Too far," he'd whispered against my throat.
We collapsed onto the couch instead, skin meeting skin in the golden light that poured through the windows, bathing us in a warm, hazy glow. What followed was unhurried, deliberate, a slow burn that built into a wildfire.
Every touch, every stroke, every whispered promise was a sacrament, a devotion to the man beneath me.
Asher, always so composed, so controlled, surrendered completely. His body trembled as I took him apart piece by piece, my hands mapping the planes of his chest, my mouth trailing searing kisses down his stomach.
His breath hitched when I reached the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, his hips lifting instinctively, begging for more.
"Please," he gasped, his voice breaking, his back arching off the couch. "Blaze, please..."
I took my time anyway, savoring every inch of him, every shuddering breath, every desperate plea. My tongue traced the length of him, teasing, tasting, until he was writhing beneath me, his composure shattered, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered need.
When I finally pushed inside him, slow and careful, his body tightened around me, hot and perfect. His eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine, and the connection between us was almost too much to bear.
It was deeper than physical, more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced—a bond that felt eternal.
"I love you," I whispered, my voice trembling as I moved within him, our rhythms syncing like a prayer. "God, Ash, I love you so much."
"Love you too," he gasped, his nails digging into my shoulders, leaving crescent marks that I would wear like trophies. "Always. Always you."
The crescendo was inevitable, a tidal wave of sensation that crashed over us both. Asher cried out my name like it was the only word he knew, his body convulsing around me, pulling me deeper, tighter, until I thought I might lose myself completely.
The release was devastating, all-consuming, leaving us breathless and trembling, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison.
But I wasn’t done. Not yet.
I pulled back slowly, watching the way his body clenched, desperate for more. My lips found his again, swallowing his moans as I shifted, lifting his legs higher, spreading him wider.
This time, I drove into him with purpose, deeper, harder, the couch creaking beneath us as I claimed every inch of him.
"Blaze," he gasped, his voice raw, his hands clawing at my back. "Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop."
I didn’t. I couldn’t. The rhythm was relentless, each thrust a declaration, each moan a hymn. My hands gripped his thighs, holding him open as I plunged into him again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.
"Come for me," I growled, my voice rough, my hips snapping forward. "Let go."
He did, his body arching off the couch, his release spilling between us in hot, sticky streaks. The sight of him coming undone, completely at my mercy, pushed me over the edge.
I buried myself deep, shuddering as I spilled inside him, our bodies locked together in a heated embrace.
We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating as one. Finally, I pulled back, collapsing beside him on the couch, our limbs tangled, our bodies spent.
"I love you," I whispered again, my lips brushing his temple.
"Always," he murmured, his voice soft, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and contentment.
And in that moment, I knew—this was everything. I should have known then that it was too perfect to last.
Present
I wake with wet eyes and an ache in my chest that Sophie's warmth beside me does nothing to ease.
She's still sleeping, hair spread across the pillow, one hand curled against her cheek. She looks beautiful and peaceful and everything I should want.
But all I can think about is ice-blue eyes and the taste of wine and the way Asher used to look at me like I was his entire world.
Some memories are too big to bury. Too real to forget.
And some people leave marks on your soul that never fully heal, no matter how hard you try to move on.
I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but Asher's laughter echoes in my head until morning comes.