The Striker (Gods of the Game, #1)

by Ana Huang

“My emotions got the better of me. But it was going to be—it is—the last time. I’ll never race again.” I wanted to believe him so badly that I ached with it, but he’d said the same thing once before, and here we were.

I wanted to spend the night by his side and pretend everything was okay until we could have a proper conversation. But because of the paps, I had to “pretend” every time I stepped out the door, and I couldn’t do it tonight—not with Asher, the only person I’d never had to put on a fake face for. I wouldn’t be of any consolation to him in my current state anyway.

I took a small step back without thinking. “Scarlett.” I felt Asher’s agony more than I heard it. It traveled through my entire body and reverberated in my bones, making them ache worse than any flare-up. I hated that I was the cause of it when he’d been hurt enough that night, and I hated that I couldn’t comfort him even more. We all have ugly feelings sometimes. It’s a part of human nature. But it’s what we do with them that counts. I was drowning in those ugly feelings, and I needed to get out of here before I said or did something I regretted.

“I’m sorry. I have to—I just need some space. To breathe.” I ducked my head and rushed out, the world a blur of pale linoleum and alarmed voices as I barreled past my brother and friends. I couldn’t draw in air fast enough or deep enough to sate the strain in my lungs. I hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in years, but I was on the verge of relapsing.

I ducked my head and rushed out, the world a blur of pale linoleum and alarmed voices as I barreled past my brother and friends. I couldn’t draw in air fast enough or deep enough to sate the strain in my lungs. I hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack in years, but I was on the verge of relapsing.

a tiny voice inside my head tried to convince me I was overreacting. It was one race. One promise he’d broken out of the dozens he’d kept. But every chain reaction started somewhere, and I worried tonight was only the beginning. I was in love with someone who didn’t love himself, and I didn’t know where that left me. Where that left us.

I heard people come and go, but the memory of Asher’s confession was my only consistent company. I was racing. I knew three words would have the power to change our relationship. I just hadn’t expected it to be those three.

I wasn’t ready to talk. If we talked, then I’d have to confront the state of our relationship, and I’d much rather live in denial. Limbo was better than hell. Asher stopped less than two feet away. “About us.” His rough, raw voice rushed over me. As upset as I was about him breaking his promise and endangering his life, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care about him. That was the problem. I cared too much. I cared too much and he didn’t care enough, and I was afraid we’d never bridge that gap.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that actions speak louder than words. I want to believe you, Asher. I really do. Because I…” I love you. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue before I swallowed them. They went down like jagged pills. “I care about you, and that’s why I can’t—I can’t be with you.” The realization tore at me with vicious claws, making me stumble and turning my voice into a shredded version of itself. “I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct.” I couldn’t force him to change nor did I want to. The change had to come from him, but if I stayed knowing he was still on that path of self-destruction, I would be silently condoning his actions. I loved him too much to do that.

“Are you breaking up with me?” The shock, the pain in his voice was so raw that it almost undid me. “I…” Just say it. Finish what you’ve started. “I’ll always care about you,” I repeated. I sounded like a broken record, but I was too exhausted and drained to scrounge for new turns of phrase. “But until you exhibit the same care for yourself, we can’t be together. It’s not…I…it’s not possible.”

“You said you cared about me, and I care about you. More than anything else in this world.” A rough plea hoarsened his words. “Please, darling. I know I broke my promise once, but I’ll never do it again. Not when I know it means losing you.” It would be so easy to give in. To collapse into his arms and let him sweep us away from this excruciating torment. On the surface, his reasoning made sense. Why shouldn’t we be together? There was nothing holding us back now but ourselves. Except we were often our own biggest obstacles, and if I papered over our issues now, they would only fester and grow in the future.

Asher reached for me, but I instinctively pulled away. I was already treading a shaky line; if he touched me, it would be over.

“Please leave,” I begged. His response might not have been a plea, but mine was. Asher remained silent. I could barely see past my veil of tears, but I could feel his anguish. It seeped through my defenses like acid, eating through resolve and determination to reach the vulnerabilities shielded beneath.

“Do you remember the favor you owe me? When I agreed to watch the horror movie that first night I slept over at your house?” Asher’s breaths were heavy and ragged in the otherwise silent studio. “Don’t.” “I’m calling it in now.” I hated tainting that night with today’s poison, but I had no choice. “Please go.” My last sentence was nearly inaudible.

I wasn’t a stranger to pain. I lived with it every day, and some days were worse than others. But I’d never experienced pain like this—like thousands of metal teeth were gnawing through my ribcage, tearing flesh and bone into shreds. When they reached their bounty—the beating, vulnerable organ responsible for their existence—they feasted on it, mangling it beyond recognition.

This? This inescapable, indescribable torment? This was the pain of my heart truly breaking for the first time in my life.

Her tear-streaked face swam past my vision, evidence that our breakup devastated her as much as it did me, and that was what killed me the most. She was out there somewhere hurting, and I couldn’t comfort her because I was the cause of her hurt. Me and my stupid, selfish, short-sighted actions.

“You’re a once-in-a-lifetime player, there’s no doubt about that. In fact, you’re one of the most talented players I’ve coached since I became a club manager. But you’re also hot-headed, reckless, and have a tendency to prioritize your personal grievances over what’s good for the team.”

I strangled the edge of my seat with white knuckles. You’ve let me down. I’d heard that sentiment plenty of times in my life, including from my father, but the calm, matter-of-fact manner in which Coach delivered it stung harder than any heated words or shouts. If my breakup with Scarlett was the worst conversation of my life, this was a strong contender for second place. The growing weight of guilt pressed in from all sides, making me want to melt into the floor and disappear forever.

My head pounded from the tumult of voices swarming my brain. They overlapped and blended together, their collective volume rising to a point where I could no longer hear my steps against the concrete floor or the anxious hammer of my pulse. Scarlett, football, my control over my own bloody life…everyone and everything I loved was slipping through my fingers. If I didn’t get my shit together soon, I’d lose everything I’d worked so hard for. Permanently.

Scarlett, football, my control over my own bloody life…everyone and everything I loved was slipping through my fingers. If I didn’t get my shit together soon, I’d lose everything I’d worked so hard for. Permanently.

a win was a win, and as happy as I was for them—for us—I couldn’t stop something unpleasant from slithering through my veins. It was like my absence didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t matter.

I still didn’t know what Coach meant when he said something was driving my impulsiveness. If it wasn’t my pride or hot-headedness, as he called it, what the hell was it?

I was surrounded by the best luxuries money could buy, but I would give it all up for the chance to see her again.

The emotions exploded past the dam I’d spent years constructing and poured through my mouth, flooding the room with a lifetime’s worth of resentment. It wasn’t just the past month, and it wasn’t just my father. It was everything. Scarlett, Coach, Teddy, Vincent, my critics and my fans, my triumphs and my mistakes. Sometimes, the weight of it all was so great I couldn’t breathe. My home was supposed to be my haven, and I didn’t even have that.

Teddy’s death and the role I played in it had sent me into a dark spiral. Football saved me, but… Something is driving those stupid, impulsive decisions of yours. It was like you had a death wish and you were punishing yourself for surviving when he didn’t. My heart stopped for a beat. No. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

I almost let him leave without further comment, but there was one more unresolved issue hanging over us. I stopped him just before he reached the doorway. “You never answered my question from the hospital.” Your team or your son? I needed to hear him say it. My father looked back at me, his face unreadable. “The team will always be there,” he said. “But I only have one son.” Then he left, and I was alone in the silence once again.

Why was I sitting around waiting for inspiration to strike instead of fighting for her and for my spot back on the pitch? I kept thinking it was impossible to prove a negative, but was it really? Even if it was, I’d achieved the impossible before. I could do it again. For Scarlett, I could do anything.

I had to prove to Scarlett that I wasn’t the same reckless hothead who’d raced Bocci that night. In order to do that, I needed to take concrete action. Do something that would highlight how serious I was about changing. What can I… My heart stopped for a second before it kicked into double time. I got it. “I have a plan,” I said in response to Vincent’s question. “But I need the team’s help.”

“I don’t understand,” Samson said. “How can we help?” “And why do we need to meet in person for it?” Gallagher yawned. “This could’ve been an email.” “No, it couldn’t,” Vincent said. “You’ll see when Asher explains step number one.” Gallagher frowned. “Step number one of what?” I smiled a genuine smile for the first time in two weeks. “Of our latest playbook: Win Scarlett Back.”

imposter syndrome is often a sign of greatness.” Emma frowned. “How?” “It’s proof you’re setting high standards for yourself and that you’re not satisfied with being simply good enough,” I said. “If we think we’re perfect and there’s nothing we can improve on, we’ll never grow. If there’s no growth, we stagnate. And greatness doesn’t come from stagnation; it comes from progress.” The words were meant for Emma, but saying them aloud struck a chord deep inside me.

Too reckless. I’d accused Asher of being too reckless and endangering himself, but hadn’t I done the same when I refused to listen to my body’s demands? Granted, my situation was less likely to culminate in an immediate, fiery death, but the principle was the same. Unease filtered through my veins. Was I being a hypocrite and punishing him for something that I myself was guilty of?

In the short time I’d known him, he’d ingrained himself into my life so thoroughly that I couldn’t imagine living it without him. Trying to do so had been…difficult.

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 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.

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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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 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.

I knew he would do that🥹🤭

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.”

lol 🤣

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.

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 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.

“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.

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.

“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.

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! Is that you?” Our heads turned at the same time. A beautiful redhead approached us in the hall with a tall, handsome Asian man in tow. Her face split into a wide smile.

love these cameos 😍