Page 52 of Caught Offside

Asher dragged a hand down his face. “It’s Patrick,” he said. “The expansion draft. There’s a real chance he’ll get pulled out of Chicago and shipped halfway across the country, and instead of talking to me about what’s going on, he’s backing off. Going quiet. Getting a jump on losing me before it’s even happened.” His jaw set. “And it’s not even decided, Pops. That’s what’s killing me. He’s pulling away over a maybe, and he won’t let me help him carry any of it.”

The line went still a second.

“You know,” Pops said, “I almost threw the whole thing away with your dad. Long before you were ever a thought.”

Asher blinked. “What?”

“I had the best thing that ever happened to me, and I damn near set it on fire. The part that should scare you is that I’d have called it the smart move the whole time I did it.”

“Pops—”

“Let me. It’s good for you.” A breath, the hum of the Milwaukee house behind him. “Your dad and I were brand new, and it was moving fast, and somewhere in there, I figured out I wanted the whole thing with him. The forever, the family, all of it. And that terrified me because you can’t lose what you never let yourself have. So I started backing off. Told myself I was giving him room, being decent about it, letting him keep his head on baseball.” A dry sound. “I wasn’t being decent. I was running.”

Asher’s throat was tight.

“And here’s the part I need you to actually hear. Your dad is the reason I’m not telling you this from an empty condo. He didn’t let me go. He’s steadier than I’ll ever be. He picked up the phone, he came after me, he decided I was worth more than my best impression of a man who didn’t care. If it had been left to me, I’d have run all the way out and spent the rest of my life proud of how clean I left.”

Pops took a breath, then continued, “I’m not telling you what to do. That’s your dad’s department. I’m telling you what I almost did and what it would have cost me. The version where I keep running is the version where I don’t have Sean. And that’s the version where I don’t have you either.”

“Pops.” His voice came out rough.

“I know what it looks like from the inside. I know it feels like the smart play is to pull back before it can hurt worse.” A beat. “Because you’re mine, Asher. You got it from me. The charm, the walking into any room and having everyone love you and still going home alone because you got out before anyone could leave you first. That’s mine. I handed it to you, and I’m sorry, and I’m telling you straight that it doesn’t work. It just leaves you alone with how clever you were.”

Asher took the phone away from his ear and held it against his chest. He could hear Pops’s breathing, tinny and distant, the sound of him waiting.

He brought the phone back.

“He let me back in,” Asher said. “Sort of. He called. He said the right things. He sounds like himself again. He’s there. But there’s something eating at him, and he won’t tell me what. I can see it sitting on him. He’ll give me everything except that.” His throat worked. “He’s behind glass, Pops. The door’s open a crack, and he stands right there in it and still won’t let me through to help.”

“I know that glass,” Pops said. “I was the one behind it. Your dad’s the one who stood there knocking.”

“What do I do?”

Pops exhaled. “I don’t know what you do. I know what your dad did. He stayed, and he knocked, and he was ready to walk the whole time. Staying isn’t the same as letting somebody grind you down. He’d decided how long he’d give me, and he meant it, and he turned out to be right. I was worth the wait.” A beat. “So you decide if Patrick’s worth standing there for. And you mean it about how long. But you can’t make that call with one foot already out the door, kid. You make it from inside the room.”

“And if he never opens it?”

Pops was silent for a long moment.

“Then you’ll know. And knowing beats wondering. Every time.”

The connection held between them.

“Your dad says hi,” Pops said, his voice shifting back toward the surface. “He also says you should ice your knee.”

“How does he know about my knee?”

“Your dad knows everything. It’s his most annoying quality.”

Asher laughed. It came out thin and unsteady and real.

“Thanks, Pops.”

“Anytime, kid. That’s the whole job.”

They hung up. Asher sat on the couch in the dark, his phone in his hand.

He opened Patrick’s thread. Patrick had promised tomorrow, and Asher had left it sitting there without an answer.