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.
CHAPTER 51ASHER
My father’s words echoed in my head long after he left, especially what he said about Teddy and my death wish.
Was that really the reason behind my compulsion to race? It seemed absurd. I enjoyed racing, and it didn’t make sense for his death to be the reason behind my self-destructive behavior. It’d driven me to succeed, not to sabotage myself.
But the thrill I got from racing was the thrill of cheating death, so maybe…
My headache intensified. It was too late for this. I needed sleep first. Then I could figure out what to do with the revelations from my father’s surprise intervention tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the night had other plans for me when, less than an hour after he left, someone else showed up at my gates.
Disbelief cut through me when I saw who it was. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I was tempted to leave him outside, but I caved and opened the gates again. What was one more visitor? Hell, maybe I should ask the London Philharmonic to come over for a concert and then set up sleeping bags for all the paps to camp out in my living room.
Maybe the universe was doing me a favor by trying to distract me from thoughts of Scarlett—or maybe it was trying to punish me by making me deal with my father and the person who reminded me most of her within the span of one hour.
I opened the front door to Vincent’s scowling face.
A bolt of irritation darted through me. He showed up at my house uninvited and had the nerve to look annoyed?
Typical Vincent.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Did someone put out a broadcast telling London I’m having an open house tonight or something?”
Given the way my week was going, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“We need to talk.” He shoved past me into the foyer. He was still wearing his kit from that afternoon’s match, which didn’t improve my mood.
Not only did he remind me of his sister, but he reminded me of my suspension. At that moment, he was the symbol of everything I’d lost, and I almost decked him for it.
I didn’t.
One, that wouldn’t solve my problems; it would compound them. Two, my issues weren’t his fault, though I wished they were. It was easier to blame others for my misfortunes than myself.
“I don’t want to talk.” Nevertheless, I slammed the door closed in case there was a pap lurking out there with a long-range night lens or whatever they used to spy on their unsuspecting victims. I trusted my security team, but one could never be too careful. “If this is about your sister…”
I couldn’t bring myself to say Scarlett’s name. It hurt too much.
“It’s not. I’m not here as Scarlett’s brother.” I flinched even as Vincent continued without so much as a hello, it’s lovely to see you. “I’m here as your captain, and I’m telling you to get your shit together.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Was it Kick Asher While He’s Down Day and no one told me? Why was everyone barging into my bloody house to yell at me? “I already—”
“You see those?” He pointed at the medals displayed inside a glass case in the hall. “If you want another one, you need to get your head out of your ass. So you’re suspended and your girlfriend broke up with you. Boo-fucking-hoo.”
My shoulders stiffened. “You said this wasn’t about Scar—about her.”
“It’s not. It’s about the way you’re acting because of her,” Vincent snapped. “You want to be the greatest footballer in the world, yet you can’t hold it together after one breakup. Let’s say you get back together. What happens if you get into a fight before a match? What happens if she breaks up with you again before the World Cup?”
“I—”
“You’ve been moping like a teenager for a week, and it’s time you got over it.” He barreled over my response. “Now I’m going to say this once—and if you tell anyone, I’ll fucking deny it—but we need you back on the pitch. Team morale is down, and we can’t keep up our streak without you. We barely won against Tottenham. Most importantly, you need to get your shit together and figure out a way to win Scarlett back. For some reason I can’t fathom, she still has feelings for you, and frankly, I’m sick of seeing her mope around too.”
I stared at him, stunned into silence for the second time that night.
I couldn’t believe Vincent DuBois, of all people, was giving me a pep talk. A harsh and annoying one, but a pep talk nonetheless.
Either he’d conspired with my father on tonight’s double attack, or the universe had determined I needed that much of a kick in the ass to get my shit together.
I suspected it was the latter.
The shock of the night’s events cleared some of the daze I’d been walking around in for the past two weeks.
It pained me greatly to admit it, but my father and Vincent were both right. I prided myself on my drive and determination, but I’d displayed neither since Scarlett ran out of my hospital room the night of the crash.
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.
