Page 11 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

ASHER

The weights clink as I set them back on the rack, my arms burning but my mind sharper than it’s been all day.

Cade’s gym is a sanctuary of sorts, tucked into the corner of his oversized garage.

It smells like rubber mats and grit, with sunlight streaming in through high windows to catch the edges of a spotless row of equipment.

The guy’s a fanatic about keeping his space clean, but I can’t complain.

If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that everything here is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

“You good over there?” Cade asks, his voice cutting through the steady hum of the gym’s background music. He’s spotting me, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he watches my movements.

“Yeah,” I reply quickly, shaking out my hands before reaching for another set of dumbbells. “Just hitting the reps.”

Cade doesn’t answer immediately. I’m finding he’s not the kind of guy to fill silence just for the sake of it. When he talks, there’s a reason.

“I’m not trying to push in on you, but I noticed you’ve racked and re-racked that same set of weights three times now,” he finally says, his tone calm but pointed. “And, you’ve been counting the plates on the rack, too. Three times in a row, each time.”

I freeze mid-reach, my hand hovering over a twenty-pound plate.

My instinct is to brush him off, give him some line about double-checking my routine or being extra cautious.

But Cade’s not just a guy I look up to, nor is he simply a teammate anymore.

He’s becoming a real friend, and one who is in on my dirty little secret.

I let out a slow breath, dropping my hand to my side. “Making sure everything’s where it should be,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, like it’s no big deal.

“Uh-huh.” Cade steps closer, leaning one hip against the bench. He doesn’t probe for more, but his presence is steady, grounding.

I can feel his eyes on me, not judging, just waiting. I glance at the rack again, the slight disorder in the plates making my skin crawl. The urge to fix it buzzes under my skin like static, but I choose to keep my hands busy by tapping the very tips of my fingers over and over.

“Look,” I start, my voice quieter now. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I do. Keeps me focused.”

“I get it, man.” Cade nods slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve had to put my own routines into place when I start to get in my head about my mom and what she goes through with lupus.

Knowing I can’t do anything to control it is the toughest pill to swallow.

It’s all about control in the end. Control and our reaction. ”

“Yeah.” I glance at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be the one who gets my baggage when I got here.”

“Knowing more about you helps me, especially when we’re out on the ice.

” Cade smiles faintly. “Look, I’m not saying I know exactly what you’re dealing with because of my own burdens, but I’ve seen how you work, Asher.

You’re one of the most focused, detail-oriented players I’ve ever met.

That’s part of why you’re so good and why our team is lucky we snagged you.

Juggling that noise in your head can get harder, and the majority of us on this team have had our struggles with it.

It’s not the easiest, but at least you’re surrounded by people who definitely get it more than others probably have before. ”

His words hit harder than I expect, and for the first time, I feel the weight in my chest ease, just a little.

I glance at him, surprised to see something softer in his expression—understanding, maybe.

Cade isn’t the type to get overly sentimental, but he’s got this way of cutting through the noise and getting to the heart of a thing.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know.”

He nods once, like that’s all he needed to hear, then adds, “You know, with my mom, some days she’s up and moving like nothing’s wrong.

Other days, she can’t get out of bed. But she’s got her doctors, her meds, her routines.

She does what she can, and she leans on us when she needs to.

Chronic’s chronic, man. You’ve gotta treat it like the long game it is. ”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten. Chronic is chronic. Like he’s giving me permission to stop trying to fix everything all at once and just…manage it.

“Thanks,” I say, meaning it.

“Anytime,” Cade replies. “Now, you wanna hit those reps or keep reorganizing the weights?”

I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Reps.”

“Good call.” Cade grins. “But if you get the urge to fix the plates later, I won’t judge. I also have a kitchen that could use a quick clean?—”

I grab an old towel from a bench and chuck it at his head. “My powers are only used for good, not as a maid service.”

“Just use that power and quick,” he says as he claps me on the shoulder before stepping back, “before Weston gets here and starts hogging the rack. ”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the side door. It swings open a second later, and Weston’s voice booms through the space. “What’s up, guys? Are you ready to make me look good?”

“More like ready to show you up,” Cade shoots back with a smirk. Weston grins as he steps inside, already pulling off his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with the local pizzeria’s logo.

“We’ll see about that,” Weston says, dropping his bag near the bench. He nods at me. “Tremblay. Looking sharp.”

“Always,” I reply with a grin. Weston’s energy is infectious, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest eases.

As I grab my water bottle, my phone buzzes on the bench. I glance at the screen and swipe open the message before I can think too hard about it. The text is short, simple, but it’s enough to send my pulse skittering.

Hey Asher, I wanted to get a time on the calendar to meet with you.

Mabel.

From Maple Falls.

I’m happy to set up a time to talk.

Yes, apparently I’m the guy who fires off several messages in a row and doesn’t just get his thoughts together in one succinct text.

I wait patiently for her reply. When she doesn’t come back, the part of me that wants to hold back and not ask a bunch of questions, and fight for control, is starting to fade.

The obsessed man who needs to know all the things is, instead, battling for a front-row seat to the Mabel and Asher show.

What do you need from me?

Just some options for days and times you’re free. Can be at the rink during practice or after if that’s best.

The thought of her being near me while we’re alone is one thing, but having her in my sacred space while I get ready for our first game is actually akin to having someone throw a bucket of ice on my head while I stand naked on a pond in mid-December in Manitoba.

Coach says visitors at the rink this week are a no-go. But once we have our first game, then we can set a day for that part of the interview if it’s cool?

I can fit in however works best. If you want to wait we can. Would you be able to meet up in the meantime so I can ask you a few questions and get started?

We’re practicing a lot this week.

Maybe breakfast or lunch?

Can’t. Not when we’re at the arena all day.

You’re really trying to make this hard on me, aren’t you?

Of course not. We connected, didn’t we?

We connected because my editor wants me to write this article.

She is sassy. So sassy. Sassy pants sassy and a challenge. This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me. She’s like catnip. Fine, she wants to meet up. I’ll give her what she’s asking for. She might say no, but I decide to give it my best shot.

How about dinner? Tomorrow night. After practice. Does that work?

…

…

…

The world’s worst pause button…those three dots that tell you someone is writing something but it’s not popping up.

“Hey, Asher,” Cade calls out, bracing one end of the bar as Weston preps for his lift. “Can we get you to help spot?”

“Yeah, man,” I say, holding my phone up. “Give me two seconds to wrap this up.”

By the time I look back at my phone, Mabel’s answer is there.

Fine. The Glass Olive at seven.

Can’t wait. It’s a date.

No. It really isn’t.

Kind of. Dinner. Two people. Conversing.

It’s a work meeting. Athletic Edge will pay, reservation will be under my name. See you then.

I know when I’m being dismissed, and this time, I’m okay with it.

“Tremblay,” Weston calls out from across the room, his voice cutting through my internal chatter. “Dude, get over here. Put that phone down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say with a laugh, tossing my phone onto my duffel bag in the corner.

Still, as I cross the room to join the guys, I give my head a quick shake, like that’s all it’ll take to dislodge Mabel from my thoughts. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work.

Because even as Weston cracks a joke and Cade bursts into laughter, her sharp wit and those fire-in-her-eyes glares linger in my mind, refusing to be ignored.

And as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, I’m already looking forward to the next time she gets under my skin.