Page 31 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

“It didn’t look like nothing,” she says, holding her ground. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t. Not right now,” I snap, my tone sharp enough to cut.

Without waiting for a response, I move past her and head down the hallway.

I need a minute to breathe before I talk to her.

Admit what he said got to me. First, I need to calm myself.

Thumb to pinky, thumb to forefinger, thumb to middle finger… breathe.

“Asher, wait!” Mabel calls, her footsteps echoing behind me.

I don’t stop. My tick is activated and I need to control it before it controls me. But when I hear a sudden yelp and the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the floor. I spin around to see Mabel sprawled on the ground, her purse skidding a few feet away.

“Mabel!” I’m at her side in two strides, reaching down to help her up. “Are you okay?”

She grimaces, rubbing her elbow as she jumps to her feet. “I’m fine, I slipped.”

“Great,” I mutter, more to myself than her. “Now I’m hurting everyone.”

“Asher, stop.” Her hand grips my arm, firm and steady. “What’s really going on?”

I look at her, at the genuine concern in her eyes, and for the first time all night, I feel the anger start to crack. But the guilt? That’s still there, sharp and unforgiving.

“It’s everything.” I lean against the wall and stare at the floor. There’s too much happening in my head right now. Spinning. Thoughts moving fast, my breathing. I can feel my heart rate speed up, and it’s showing no signs of slowing.

“Well, listen to my voice and take some deep breaths, okay?” She takes my hand in hers and I immediately feel a calm flooding my system. “I need you to hear me when I say you didn’t do anything to Clément.”

“I started the fight,” I say as I tap my fingertips, again, thumb to pinky, then thumb to forefinger, then…

“Stop. Everyone in that arena watched Jared antagonize you. He skated over to you and followed you, and even from where I sat I could see his lips moving a mile a minute.” She squeezes my hand. “You need to breathe through whatever he said to you and let it go.”

“Easy for you to say, you didn't hear it.”

“Maybe, but I hate seeing you like this,” she says. “Talk to me.”

I clench and unclench my fists at the thought of Jared. “I haven’t liked that guy since college.”

“I can tell,” she says with a chuckle. “I have to say, when I saw you throw the punch I didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“I play hockey, Mabel, of course I have it in me.”

“No, I mean the fact you were not Mr. Positive out there. We’re all fallible, but when I saw you melting down, I have to admit, it worried me.” She lets go of my hand, and I immediately want her warmth back. “Seeing you react, I knew in my heart he’d done something stupid to make you do that.”

“He said something about…” I stop, wondering if I should tell her, but then quickly course correct. Of course it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want secrets with her. “He made a comment about you. And how?—”

Mabel holds a hand in the air to stop me. “Nope.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to know,” she whispers, standing closer so only I can hear her. “I just need to help you be okay on the other side of it.”

My heart rate revs higher than an F1 car, and my fingertips are going numb as I tap more.

It’s a rhythm I’ve leaned on a thousand times before, but tonight, it’s not working.

Not really. The noise inside my head is still deafening.

Thoughts crash into one another, jagged and sharp, as the scene replays on a loop.

Clément, crumpled on the ice. My stick. My fault. Over and over again.

I know if I don’t rein this in—and fast—I’m going to spiral straight into a full-blown panic attack.

The urge to keep tapping stays at the forefront, my fingers moving as if that will somehow hold me together.

My gaze is locked on my feet, watching the scuffed tips of my sneakers, but even the focus doesn’t help.

The swirl is pulling me under, a relentless current.

“Asher.” Mabel’s voice cuts through the static like a lifeline, soft but steady.

I don’t lift my head. Can’t. But then her hand slips into mine, her fingers warm and sure as they thread through my own.

My breath hitches, and the tapping stops mid-sequence.

My eyes drop to our joined hands, and something in my chest loosens, just a fraction.

“I’m in a loop,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I tap my temple with my free hand. “It’s not stopping.”

“Okay,” she says, calm but curious. Not pitying. Not dismissive. Just here. With me. “What happens when you’re in a loop?”

I swallow hard, the question pulling me up, even if just a little. I don’t want to explain this—not really. Talking about it feels like exposing the cracks, the mess. But she’s waiting, her hand still steady around mine, her thumb brushing gently against my knuckle as I find the words.

“It’s like…” I start, pausing to take a slow, deliberate breath.

“It’s like being trapped in a spinning wheel.

The same thought, the same fear, it keeps coming around, only faster and faster.

And I can’t…” My voice falters, and I press my lips together, trying to shove back the wave of emotion threatening to choke me.

“I can’t get off. It’s like if I don’t keep…

” I tap my fingers against my leg once, a ghost of the earlier rhythm.

“If I don’t do something to break it, the thought gets bigger. Louder. It swallows me.”

Mabel’s grip on my hand tightens, just a little, and when I finally dare to meet her eyes, they’re steady.

Calm. Her expression isn’t full of fear or judgment.

It’s her. The same Mabel who’s been a safe place for me.

The one who got mad about a trolley then chipped her tooth.

The one whose kisses ground me and make me feel so warm and gooey on the inside that I can forget what day it is .

“What can I do?” she asks. Simple. Direct. And somehow, it’s enough to cut through the fog, just for a second.

“This,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re already doing it.”

Her thumb brushes over my knuckles again, and I focus on the warmth of her touch.

My breathing starts to slow, each inhale a little deeper, each exhale a little steadier.

The chaos in my mind doesn’t disappear entirely, but it begins to quiet, the spinning wheel slowing to a manageable pace.

My chest feels lighter, and the tightness gripping my ribs loosens, letting me take a full breath for the first time since it started.

Beside me, Mabel simply stands still, and is with me. And it’s all I need. We stay this way for a few more minutes, until I feel as close to myself as I’m going to right now.

“Will you take me to see him?” I ask. “Clément?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until later?”

I shake my head. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“We will, but first, let’s make sure you’ve stopped carrying around all that guilt,” she says, her teasing tone softening the air around us.

“Otherwise, he might just slap some sense into you.” Her voice softens as she steps closer.

“Listen, you need to really hear me on this: none of this—absolutely none of it—is your fault. You’ve been holding on to blame that doesn’t belong to you, and it’s time to let it go. ”

There’s a moment when someone is talking and you think you’re on one subject, but then all of sudden, there’s a change in their tone and it makes you realize this convo is veering onto another path altogether.

“Are we still talking about Clément?”

“I’m talking about all of it.” Mabel pulls her jacket tighter around her. “You blame yourself for your mom, but her accident wasn’t your fault. Me falling a few minutes ago? Not your fault. Clément getting hurt in a game tonight? Not your fault.”

She makes sense. Man, I am thankful one of us is thinking straight. “What am I going to do when you’re gone? ”

Mabel chuckles. “Live a more peaceful life. One where my mother probably hunts you down and begs you to come over and help her with her to-do list, but peaceful nonetheless.”

“I’m sure she has more pictures I can hang,” I say as I rake my fingers through my hair. “But you make me feel like I’m a ship that’s finally anchored in its port. I’m not ashamed to say that since we met, I’ve been my sanest in years.”

“Asher, it’s not like we won’t stay in touch after I go back East.” She looks at me, tilting her head to the side. “Is that what you mean?”

I hadn’t considered a world where we didn’t stay in touch, but suddenly I’m wondering.

What if she goes back to New York and we text every day, making time to chat on video or call each other as often as we can.

Then how long until the consistency of those calls dies off and we’re lucky if we text once a week?

The thought of her no longer in my life makes me more than sad.

It freaks me out. She has her dreams, a job, a schedule, and I have mine.

“When do you leave?”

“A couple days after Halloween.”

“So, there’s still time,” I tease, wagging a finger in the air.

“If you’re trying to convince me to stay…” she murmurs, her voice soft but uncertain.

“A guy can hope,” I reply, forcing a grin.

“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. ”