Crossing the Line

by Kendall Ryan

  “Need a hand?”

  Asher appears in my doorway, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He’s wearing joggers and his Ice Hawks hat turned backward. His eyes are bright, and he looks like this week recharged him some.

  My emotions are tangled and a little bittersweet, because it feels like something is coming to an end. I wish we could go back to then, back to when we had a whole week of sun and sexual tension ahead of us.

  “I need more than a hand.” I sigh, giving the zipper another useless tug. “I need a trash compactor.”

  He chuckles, setting his duffel down and crouching to my level. “You sit on it, and I’ll pull the zipper, okay?”

  Skeptical, I scrunch my brow. “Is that something people actually do? Or does that only work in movies and cartoons?”

  “Well, it seems like you’ve tried just about everything else,” he says with a smirk.

  Fair point. I take a seat on the lid of my suitcase and it flattens a bit under my weight, enough that when Asher crouches down beside me, he can move the zipper. With a hefty tug, he manages to muscle it closed.

  “You’re a godsend,” I tell him with a grin.

  He lifts a shoulder, a warm smile pulling at his lips. “We just work well together.”

  Those five little words send a rush of dopamine straight to my brain. We do fit together well. In theory. But theories can be disproven. And while I like the idea of Asher and me together way too much, I can’t want anything more than what I’ve already had with him. There’s too much at stake, both emotionally and professionally, for both of us.

  I fumble for a response to break the silence, but luckily, he doesn’t let me grasp at words for long.

  “I guess we should get moving,” he says.

  I leap up to lend him a hand, and while he’s putting a decent amount of weight on me as he pushes to his feet, he’s noticeably more mobile than he was yesterday. Maybe he’s not in mint condition, but at least I’m not sending him back to Trey more injured than when he left.

  “Ready to go?” he asks, grabbing his duffel and lifting his chin toward the door.

  “I guess so.”

  I take one last look around the room, checking for anything I may have left behind. It looks so empty with the sheets stripped off the bed and all of my stuff packed away. I wasn’t expecting to be so emotional leaving a guest room, but it’s felt like home for the last seven days. If not for the fact that my residency starts this week, I might be petitioning to extend our visit a little, maybe help Lolli with a few things while we work on our tans.

  But duty calls. Good-bye, paradise. Welcome back to the real world.

  We lug our bags down to the kitchen where the rest of the family is cleaning up the leftovers from Lolli’s party and waiting to see us off. His sisters, mom, and Lolli are all stationed nearby.

  “We’re rolling out,” Asher announces to the crew, shrugging his duffel to the kitchen floor and stretching his arms wide. “Let’s get these hugs going.”

  And so begins the endless parade of hugs, just like when we first arrived. Only this time, I get to be a part of it.

  Up first is Lolli, who squeezes me tight enough to squish my internal organs. Then I exchange social media handles with both Amber and Courtney, with promises to stay in touch. After a quick side hug from Mack and Tyson, I make my way over to Tess, who holds me good and long like I’m one of her own daughters.

  By the time I finish my rounds, I’m a little choked up.

  I may never be in this place or with these people again. It’s an upsetting thought, but it’s quickly interrupted by Tess, who seems to have an announcement to make.

  “What do you think, everyone? Should we give Bailey her present?”

  Everyone nods and makes noises of approval as Tess ushers me to take a seat on a bar stool. Asher must notice me nervously eyeing my suitcase, because his laugh is loud enough to cut through the hubbub.

  “Don’t worry, Bailey,” he tells me with a smile. “There’s room in my duffel for it, whatever it is.”

  “It’s nothing big and crazy,” Amber says. “Don’t get her all excited.”

  Tess waves the comment off with a flick of her wrist and a roll of her eyes. “Oh, hush. It’s the thought that counts, right? Lolli, do you want to do the honors?”

  Lolli rubs her hands together excitedly as she scurries out of the kitchen, returning moments later with a shoe box decorated with red construction paper and stickers in the shape of stethoscopes and thermometers.

  What in the world? I chuckle a little.

  “Ta-da!” She presents it proudly with extended arms, shaking the contents with a light rattle. “Bailey’s emergency kit!”

  With it right under my nose, I can make out the message written in glitter glue on top: PROPERTY OF DOCTOR BAILEY. I choke back the lump bobbing in my throat.

  “Open it up!” Nora urges me in an excited whisper. She carefully shifts a sleeping baby into Todd’s arms before taking a seat on a bar stool next to mine, watching as I carefully lift the lid of the shoe box to reveal the assortment of goodies inside.

  Band-Aids, gum, aspirin, protein bars, instant coffee packets, the works. They even thought to include a box of tampons, somehow managing to guess correctly on my preferred brand.

  “This is too sweet, guys,” I whisper, feeling my eyes begin to tear up. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Of course we did,” Amber says, giving Asher’s shoulder a squeeze. “If not for you, we wouldn’t have been able to have our brother with us this week.”

  “And I would’ve been an anxious mess the entire time Nora was in the hospital without you to calm me down,” Courtney says. “You were a complete lifesaver.”

  I rummage through the box, impressed by how much they fit in here. There’s hand sanitizer, makeup wipes, even a few seashells from the beach that Little Miss Fable proudly boasts she picked out especially for me.

  When I get to the bottom, there’s a stack of handwritten notes of encouragement from the whole family, guys and girls. I have to close the lid to keep from reading them right now. Better to save them for a hard day at work. Plus, I think I would get about two words into one of those notes before full-on sobbing in front of the whole Reed family.

  “Thank you all so much,” I manage to say, blinking away the tears pooling in my eyes. “This means the world to me.”

  “You mean the world to us,” Courtney says. “If the people at William Simmons love you half as much as we do, you’re going to have an amazing residency.”

  “And even if they don’t, I have all the resources I need.” I tap the decorated shoe box on my lap. “You guys have me covered.”

  “Well, I think this calls for a second round of hugs!” Lolli announces, clapping her hands.

  We all laugh as if it were a joke, but moments later, we’re starting the hug parade all over again. And I don’t mind one bit. I’ve never been much of a touchy-feely person, but I guess this family has gotten to me.

  Once everyone is all hugged out, we head outside to the car and toss our bags in the back seat. The emergency kit, however, will be sitting in the front seat with me. I place it gingerly on my lap before buckling my seat belt, as I hold it in place.

  “Thanks for everything!” Asher calls out the window as he throws the car into reverse.

  As he backs out of the driveway, I roll my window all the way down, waving and smiling at everyone on the porch.

  “Don’t be a stranger!” Lolli calls to me.

  The irony is real. A week ago, a stranger is exactly what I was in this house.

  But now, seven short days later, I’m smiling and waving good-bye to people who feel a lot more like family, and I have no idea what to do with the emotions swelling inside me.

  17

  * * *

  Ghosted

  Asher

  “Finally, I catch you.” My mom’s voice comes over the speaker, sounding cheerful and a little relieved.

  “Hey. Ye
ah, sorry. It’s been a busy few days.”

  I’ve been cleared by the team physicians and am back to my usual schedule—which means team workouts and meetings with the coaching staff. Our season came to an abrupt and unsatisfying conclusion, as sometimes happens when you’re in the semi-finals and up against the best team in the western conference, but such is life. There’s always next time.

  “Well, I just wanted to check on you. The doctor said the concussion is gone?”

  She’s referring to my text to the family, in which I told them I was given the “all clear.”

  “Yup. All healed up.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  While I shed my towel and quickly get dressed, Mom fills me in on Nora and the baby, and Lolli’s new knitting club, and some neighbor Steve’s helping to structure his 401k. It’s all fascinating stuff.

  “That’s great, Mom.” I push a comb through my wet hair and eye my beard growth. I’ll shave tomorrow. There’s no reason not to; we aren’t in the playoffs anymore. “I hate to cut this short, but I promised Covey I’d help him move today.”

  “Covey?” she asks. “Have I met him?”

  I straighten, checking myself in the mirror. “Landon Covington. I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, that’s the rookie defenseman, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, I know you have to go, but the reason I’m calling is to see how things are going between you and Bailey.”

  I pause with the comb halfway through my hair.

  The short answer? They’re not. I’m pretty sure she saw me as little more than a fun ride.

  Does that suck? Yeah.

  Am I crying myself to sleep at night? No, not exactly, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish things could be different.

  I’ve practically rubbed myself raw at the memory of our nights together. But it’s not just the sex I miss—though it was off-the-charts incredible. I enjoyed our week together on the island, just hanging out and talking with her, and getting to know her away from our group of friends.

  But I texted her a few days ago when we returned—just a simple message to say hi, tell her I had a good time, maybe make small talk, but she didn’t even reply. If that didn’t make her stance clear, I don’t know what would.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I finally answer my mom on my way toward the door.

  “Hmm.” Mom makes an uncertain sound, but I can tell she isn’t pleased by that answer. “You guys have a connection, Asher.”

  “I’m not denying that.”

  “And don’t feed me a line about being ‘just friends’.” I guess she picked up on our chemistry then.

  “I’m not, Mom.” I grab my car keys and head toward my building’s elevator. It doesn’t look like this conversation is coming to an end anytime soon, and I know the guys will give me shit if I’m late.

  “So, you haven’t even called her since you’ve been back?”

  “I texted. She didn’t reply.”

  Mom makes another of those sounds. “She’s a busy girl, Asher. She’s just started a new job at a busy practice downtown. What exactly did this text message say?”

  Mom has never probed about my relationship status before, but then again, Bailey is an exceptional woman. So it makes sense why my mom is suddenly so curious now.

  “I thanked her for coming. Said I had a nice time. That kind of thing.”

  The truth is, I can recite the text from memory if I want to. I’ve reread it at least a dozen times, trying to figure out if I said something wrong, and then a half dozen more times in the hopes that maybe I missed her reply.

  “Well, that wasn’t very bright, son. You left it too vague. Too open-ended.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Her tone softens. “I’m serious, sweetie. You didn’t ask a question. Didn’t give her any reason to reply.”

  Crap. She might be right. “And what question should I have asked?”

  “You should have asked her on a date.”

  A sinking feeling settles low in my gut. Mom may be on to something. I’d love to take Bailey out. But that might be a pipe dream, considering she won’t even respond to a text.

  After hopping into my car, I tell my mom I love her and say good-bye.

  The drive to Landon’s is a distracted one. When I pull up in front of the high-rise complex he’s moving into today, I spot Teddy, Justin, and Owen standing around a white moving truck while Landon fiddles with the lock.

  “Hey, hey,” Owen says when he spots me, clapping one hand on my shoulder. “How’s it hanging?”

  “Hey. Better. Thanks, man.” Or at least that’s what I’m supposed to say. I’ve been cleared to play hockey again, so why don’t I feel any better?

  “Damn, Cali looks good on ya,” Justin says, shaking my hand.

  Rubbing one hand over the back of my neck, I shift my weight. “Yeah. I picked up a little tan.”

  Teddy offers a fist bump, which I return.

  “Hey, TK.”

  Landon frees the lock and stands to his full six-foot-three height. I give him a nod. As we stand here in a moment of silence, I wonder if we’re going to talk about the loss to Denver. But no one brings it up, and I’m not one to rub salt in anyone’s wounds, so I stay quiet too. Plus, the wounds aren’t just theirs—they’re mine too. Even though I wasn’t on the ice that night, we all suffered that loss.

  “I don’t have much,” Landon says, “so this shouldn’t take long. But I couldn’t have done it alone, so thanks for coming today, guys.”

  “Absolutely man. That’s what we’re here for,” Teddy adds.

  Landon forces open the overhead door to the moving truck, and we all climb in.

  Owen and I grab either end of a tan sofa, and so it begins.

  Forty minutes later, we’ve moved in a dozen or so boxes, several suitcases, a wardrobe, a king-sized bed, a TV that’s almost as big, and the sofa. Now we’re standing in the entryway, surveying our work.

  “You need a rug,” Teddy says, looking over the empty-feeling apartment.

  It’s a large one-bedroom with a nice modern kitchen and a good view of the city. But TK’s right . . . it does feel sparse, like something’s missing.

  Justin looks around, scratching his head. “Or a plant.”

  “Or a girlfriend,” Owen says, and we all begin laughing.

  “That last one,” I say, seconding Owen’s suggestion.

  “If I stick around, maybe I’ll work on that,” Landon says.

  I give his shoulder a playful shove. “You’ll be here.”

  He didn’t get much ice time this year, and I know it worries him. He’s lived out of a hotel the whole season until finally deciding to sign a lease on a pricey new apartment. And the guys are right—he definitely needs to invest in some furniture, rugs, and plants, and maybe a decent set of sheets, but I’m not going to point that out to him.

  I can tell he’s stressed, and I felt the exact same way at twenty-three after being drafted to my first major league team. You have no idea if it’s a fluke or if it’s going to work out or if you’ll be cut at any second. There aren’t a lot of guarantees with a rookie contract.

  Still, Landon’s a solid player. A little raw and undeveloped, but that’ll come. I need to pull him aside later and tell him to have faith, or maybe I’ll text Grant, our team captain, and give him a heads-up. He’s good with heart-to-heart chats like that. I remember him taking me under his wing years ago.

  “Let’s order a pizza,” Owen says. The dude is never not hungry.

  Later, after a couple of large pizzas have been delivered, we head into the sparse living room with a six-pack of beer.

  “Dibs on the couch,” Owen calls, running over and flopping himself down into the center of the thing.

  By the time the guys take their seats, Landon and I are left sitting on the wooden living room floor.

  He chuckles. “Maybe I do need some more furniture.”

  I don’t say anything, happy to
eat my share of pizza and enjoy a beer with my teammates.

  “So, dude, tell us,” Teddy says finally, meeting my eyes with a playful glint.

  “Tell you about what?” I ask around a mouthful of sausage pizza.

  “About San Diego. Did you and Bailey hook up?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Not answering that,” I say, then take another bite.

  A collective wave of masculine groans fills the room as all eyes focus on me, assessing whatever it is they think happened.

  “That’s a yes,” Owen says matter-of-factly.

  “Fuck off. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Holy shit, you did,” Justin says, grabbing another beer.

  I swallow the food I’m chewing and take a second to compose myself. “She’s a cool girl, and we had an amazing time, but I don’t think she’d give me the time of day in the real world.”

  “Why do you say that?” Owen asks before he stuffs the entire crust of his slice into his mouth.

  I shake my head and grab a napkin. “Two reasons. One, she flat-out told me she wasn’t looking for anything, and two, I texted her when we got back, and she never even bothered to reply.”

  Admitting that out loud hurts worse than I thought it would. I got ghosted—plain and simple.

  Bailey never gave any indication that she’d ghost me.

  That last day in San Diego was perfect. My family got her a gift, a homemade one, which everyone knows are the best kind, and she seemed truly sad to be leaving. We made a quick excursion to La Jolla on the way to the airport, where we stopped and watched the seals and sea lions that liked to sun themselves on the beach there, then we took a walk through the quaint town to grab lunch at a restaurant I liked called Cody’s that I hadn’t been to in years. It has a pretty balcony that overlooks the ocean that I thought Bailey might like.

  She was talkative during lunch, then slept most of the plane ride back, happy to rest her head against my shoulder. When I dropped her off at home, we hugged good-bye. I never expected that to be a real good-bye, though, not with everything we’d shared. I figured we’d be making plans to see each other in a few days. Even as friends. But nope, nothing.