Page 64 of Checking Mr. Wrong
She nods, standing and heading into the kitchen, her voice softening as she answers.
Left alone, I lean back against the couch, the warmth of our moment still lingering in the room. It feels good, in fact, it’s better than good. This is the kind of conversation I used to dream about having with her, the kind I thought was impossible. And now, here we are.
I glance around the room, noticing all the little touches thatmake this place home—the old family photos, the ceramic vase I made in seventh grade that still holds pride of place on the mantel. Maple Falls hasn’t changed much, but it feels different this time. Or maybe it’s me.
This trip has not been what I expected it to be. Not at all. I’ve reconnected with old friends, friends who actuallyknowme. Finally, for once, my mom and I aren’t locked in some cold war of expectations and disappointments. We used words, we communicated, and look at what happened.
But in a week or so, I’ll be back in New York, back to my tiny apartment with no one to greet me and no one to make me feel like I’m part of something bigger. I’ll go back to my big, shiny, lonely life.
Here, there’s Neesha, Willa, my mom—there’s familiarity and warmth. There’s...belonging.
And, of course, there’s Asher.
The thought of him sneaks in before I can stop it, and it lingers, unwelcome and undeniable. Asher, with his stupidly charming self, his quick wit, and the way he seems to see right through me. The way he makes me feel like I matter, and not as someone’s daughter or someone’s friend, but as me. From the goofball who stole my baggage cart to the man whose kisses make me crazy…my how things have changed since I arrived here.
I shake my head, trying to banish the ridiculous thought that’s creeping in. What am I even thinking? Leave New York to come back to Maple Falls? No, no, no. That’s not the plan. I have a job offer waiting for me in New York, a chance to be on TV. Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted?
Before I can spiral further, my mom returns, her phone call finished and her smile wide. “Sweetie, why don’t you come with me tonight? Murray’s got tickets to the game—it’s our treat. What do you say?”
I open my mouth to protest, but something about her excitementmakes me stop. Maybe I can let myself enjoy one more game. “Okay,” I say with a smile. “Why not?”
Me and my relationships are thoughts—and problems—for another day.
CHAPTER 23
ASHER
I’ve been anticipatingtonight’s game since the season started. The Titans are a good team, and playing against them will be a challenge, but it’s not the team as a whole I’m worried about. There’s one person and one person only on that side of the ice I would love to spend time in a dark alley with.
I adjust my helmet, keeping my eyes locked on Jared Winters as he skates past. He hasn’t changed much, he’s still wearing the same cocky, self-satisfied expression I’ve hated since college. My hands tighten around my stick, the tape creaking under the pressure.
Lucian nudges me with his elbow. “You’ve been glaring at him for five minutes straight. Something I should know?”
Clément leans forward from the other side, his grin sharp and his accent thick. “What, you got beef with that guy? Jared...c’est encore som nom?”
“His name is Winters,” I mutter, practically spitting his name out like it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “Jared Winters.”
“C’est vraiment si mauvais que ça?” Clément whistles low, then looks at us blankly. “I mean, is it really that bad?”
I glance at the clock, then back at Jared, who’s chatting upone of his teammates like he’s got all the time in the world. “We played together in college,” I say, keeping my voice low, but there’s no hiding the edge. “He’s a liar, a backstabber, and the biggest pain in the butt I’ve ever met.”
Lucian raises an eyebrow. “What’d he do?”
“Senior year, he got into trouble for partying too hard.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to rein in the frustration bubbling under the surface. “His rep was pretty bad. The coach was ready to bench him, maybe even cut him from the lineup. So, genius that he is, Jared decided to redirect things so it was all on me.”
Clément’s eyes widen. “No way.”
“Oh, yeah.” I huff out a bitter laugh. “Told the coach I was missing practices, not putting in the work. Somehow, he made me look lazy while he was out screwing around. I had to fight tooth and nail to clear my name, and even then, some of the guys believed him. Split the locker room right down the middle.”
Lucian shakes his head. “Dude, that is not cool.”
“That’s putting it lightly.” My gaze drifts back to Jared, who’s stretching like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “He got away with it, too. I ended up benched for a few games. Never admitted what he did. And now, every time I see that smirk, I want to—” I grip my stick tighter and take a deep breath, forcing the words back down. “Doesn’t matter. It’s old news.”
“Doesn’t look like old news,” Clément says, smirking. “You’re staring at him like you’re ready to drop the gloves right here on the bench.”
“Maybe I am.” I let the corner of my mouth lift in a humorless smile. “If you knew him, you’d understand.”
Lucian nudges me again, his grin wicked. “Lucky for you, we’re about to hit the ice. Might be a good chance to work out some of that unresolved tension.”
