Page 68 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“Hope.” Mabel’s smile falters, the brightness in her eyes flickering out like a blown-out candle. She drops her gaze to the ground, her fingers twisting nervously. “I didn’t want to do this now. I was going to wait until we were alone, somewhere quieter...”
That uneasy feeling hits me again, curling tight in my gut. The air between us shifts, heavy with the weight of something I already know I won’t want to hear.
“Asher,” she begins, her voice almost breaking, “I got an offer to go back to my old television station. It’s my chance to step back into the career I’ve been chasing for years.”
The words hit me square in the chest, sharper than any hit I’ve ever taken on the ice. My jaw tightens, and I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “How do I convince you to stay?” The question comes out quieter than I intended, more of a plea than I’d like to admit.
“Don’t chase me through the airport the day I leave,” she says. Her tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge to it.
I try to mirror her. “So, what you’re telling me is...no grand gestures?”
She gives me a faint smile, the kind that doesn’t reach her eyes but still manages to undo me. “If this were a rom-com, I’m sure you’d be planning something wild right about now. Maybe a flash mob or a big public declaration…”
“But it’s not a rom-com,” I finish for her, my chest tightening.
“No, it isn’t.” She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, and I close my eyes, memorizing the feel of her. “No grand gestures needed. Just be you, okay?”
“That’s the grandest gesture I’ve got.”
She pauses, her lips curving slightly as she pulls back. “I know. That’s what makes this so hard.”
I want to pull her into my arms and beg her to stay, but one thing I’ve learned about this particular woman is that she is way too independent to fall for that move. I think if I did do that, it would be the equivalent of Maximum Strength Asher-repellant.
Instead, I keep my gaze as steady as I can. “This is kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“That I’ve come all the way to this place, to Maple Falls, to find someone who gives me this much peace only to have you leave.”
“Oh, stop. We’d have met eventually. At least, I’d like to think so.”
“Maybe.” I lean against the wall and watch as a couple of janitors stroll past, pushing mop buckets on their way to the arena. My thoughts suddenly dip back to the game earlier andhow we got here. “You know, this is the first time in a long time I’ve fallen apart so publicly.”
“You need to do it more often,” she says, raking her fingers through my hair as she kisses my cheek. “I think they call it living an authentic life.”
I stare at the floor, feeling like every vulnerable nerve is open and on display to the world right now. “It’s the first time I’ve felt safe doing it.”
Mabel’s foot taps the top of mine, and I slowly drag my eyes up to meet hers. When I do, I see her eyes shimmering with something between pride and tenderness. Her lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that makes her look like she’s got a million thoughts spinning in her head but she’s only choosing to share the good ones.
“That’s because you are safe,” she says quietly. “And you’re allowed to be yourself now. No apologies. No explanations.”
Mabel’s hand slips from my hair, her fingertips brushing against my cheek before falling away entirely. The absence is immediate, like the warmth of her touch was the only thing holding me together.
She clears her throat andit feels like the air shifts between us. “We should go,” she says softly, but there’s hesitation in her voice. Like she’s waiting for me to stop her. To say something. Anything.
“Mabel…” Her name comes out like an exhale, like a prayer I don’t know how to finish.
She stops, her head tilting just enough for me to catch the faintest glint of a tear at the corner of her eye. It’s almost enough to break me. Almost.
“Please know, part of me doesn’t want to go,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But New York…it’s everything I’ve worked for, Asher. You know that.”
I nod, because I do know. She’s told me a thousand stories about her life in the city. Her dreams. Her plans. But, at that time, none of them had me in them, at least not before now.
And now? Now, it feels like I’ve just started to learn how to breathe again and she’s taking the air with her.
I reach for her hand, curling my fingers around hers like it’s the only way to keep her here. “I don’t want you to go either,” I admit. The words are raw, stripped of all the defenses I usually keep up. “But I won’t be the reason you give up your dreams. I can’t be that guy.”
Her eyes search mine, and for a second, I let myself think she’s about to tell me she’ll stay. That she’ll trade skyscrapers for cold rinks and early morning practices. But instead, she presses her forehead to mine, her breath warm against my lips.
