Page 14 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

“Well, as you all know I’ve been managing my fibromyalgia for over four years now, so I have a pretty good idea of what’s normal for me,” Marianne begins when the door to the Medical Center suddenly swings open and we all turn in surprise to see who’s interrupting.

It’s two tall men, their respective bulks filling the doorway, smiling as though they’ve just arrived at a party rather than a support group.

Everyone gawks at them and murmurs about who they are rolling through the room.

Me? I blink at the familiar figures. Not one but two Ice Breakers have crashed our little get together. And one of them is none other than Cade Lennox.

He and Asher Tremblay are clearly lost, looking for…I don’t know what. But it sure as heck isn’t this support group.

Cade’s eyes roam the room until they land on mine, and he raises his brows in greeting, as though he didn't expect to see me here.

I pull my lips into a line and look away.

What the heck is he doing here? And did he really not expect to see me? Sure, I didn't tell him my plans tonight were to come to this support group, but did he know that I was here and decided it’d be a great idea to come along?

The nerve of the guy!

“Gentlemen,” Bernice says, her brows springing up in surprise. “Are you here for the Chronic Warriors Support Group?”

“Yes, we are, ma’am,” Cade replies, but at least this time he’s “ma’aming” a middle-aged woman and not me.

But wait. He said he’s here for the group?

“Hey, Clara!” Asher exclaims. “Clara’s here,” he adds to Cade.

“Yeah, I see her,” Cade says, his gaze landing on me once more.

“Hi, guys,” I say weakly.

“Clara?” Bernice questions .

“This is Asher Tremblay and Cade Lennox,” I say, and people murmur their greetings.

“Welcome, Asher and Cade. Pull up a chair and join us. Everyone, let’s scoot back to make room,” Bernice says, gesturing with her hands.

We do as we're told, sharing confused looks with one another as we do. No one knows why a couple of pro hockey players have turned up here tonight, although a bunch of the group look pretty excited about it.

Of course Cade places a chair between me and Owen, forcing me to make room for him while flashing me that confident smile of his. “Okay if I sit here, Clara?”

At least he didn’t call me Triple Threat in front of everyone. I wouldn’t want to have to explain that.

“I guess I can't stop you,” I sniff.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” he replies, smirking like this is some kind of fun joke. He sits down and the chair immediately creaks with his bulk, and an image of it snapping under the pressure and him landing on his butt, makes me smile.

I glance across at Asher, who’s also on a chair that's too small for him, as well. The two of them look like a couple of giants sitting on toddler stools.

As people chat, I lean a little closer to Cade and immediately regret it when I catch his aroma, the same aroma from the arena, sans sweat.

Why does Cade Lennox have to smell so dang good on top of his good looks, flirtatiousness, and charm? It's not fair. A guy with that multi-layered attractiveness should not be allowed to roam loose in the world. He’s a danger to all womankind.

Particularly this woman.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss under my breath.

“I could ask the same,” he replies without answering my question.

I lift my chin. “This is my support group. I come here every single week.” I challenge him with my gaze. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question.”

His brows climb to meet his hairline. “ Your support group? Do you run this thing?”

I’m working out how to reply when Bernice welcomes the two new, unexpected members to tonight’s session. “Tell us why you’re here, gentlemen,” she says with an encouraging smile.

“Do you wanna go first?” Cade asks Asher, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. I for one know that he’s only here because somehow, he found out that I attend these sessions. All it does is give him another environment in which to flirt with me and make me even more uncomfortable around him.

This guy is seriously beginning to push my buttons.

Now, if the rest of me could quit doing backflips whenever he's around, everyone could get on with what they’re meant to be doing, rather than feeling certain things that shouldn’t be felt.

Asher clears his throat, his eyes flicking around the room. “I was talking with Cade here the other day and he suggested I try this out. I’ve not been to one of these things before.”

“Would you like to share why, if you’re comfortable doing so, Asher?” Bernice asks. “We’re an open group, but we keep whatever we share within the group at all times. I can assure you of that.”

Asher nods, but his lips remain firmly shut.

Unlike Cade’s lips which would benefit from some duct tape right about now.

“Kinda like what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?” Cade asks with a grin, and I notice all the women in the room smile back at him as though what he said was utterly fascinating. Which of course it wasn’t. It was just an overused cliché and totally inappropriate for a support group.

“I love Vegas,” Marianne simpers. “Have you spent a lot of time there, Cade?”

Martin harrumphs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms again .

Cade shrugs. “A few times, I guess. My last team, the New York City Blades, played there a bit, of course. We beat the Knights there in the playoffs last season.”

“The playoffs? You must have been so proud,” Carmen says.

Oh, good grief.

“It’s a good feeling whenever you beat another team. Right, Asher?” Cade says.

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Asher agrees.

“I’m not sure Vegas or hockey is exactly a Chronic Warriors topic,” I protest, hoping to get this session back on track. But it falls on deaf ears.

“Do you gamble, Cade?” Carmen asks, her voice equally simpering. “Cade. That’s a nice name. Is it short for anything?”

“Nah, just Cade, and I’m not much of a gambler. Me? I like the shows. The Cirque du Soleil ones are pretty good. Oh, and I saw Garth Brooks there not that long ago. Even got to meet the guy. He was awesome. I’m a big fan,” he replies.

“I love Garth Brooks, too,” Tasha says and receives a sharp look from her husband. “What? It’s true, sweetheart.”

I’m about to open my mouth in an attempt to get us back on track—and away from this embarrassing and entirely unnecessary fangirling over hockey players—when Bernice does the job for me.

“Shall we get back on topic?” she asks. “Asher, feel free to share why you’re here tonight, if you so wish. If not, we’ll move on.”

Asher’s features tighten, and I feel for the guy. He’s clearly anxious, and I wonder whether he’s here for a genuine reason—or just along for the ride with Mr. Vegas.

“I’m happy to share,” Asher begins. “I know you all probably think we hockey players are pretty invincible,” he begins, his hands clasped tight in his lap. “We’re big and strong and athletic. Don’t get me wrong, I’m healthy. You know, I don’t have a disease exactly.”

“Illness can take many forms, Asher. In this room right now we have people with differing diagnoses, but we all share a common journey.”

“I…I guess I do have a thing,” he says, glancing at Cade, who shoots him an encouraging look.

“You got this, man,” Cade says.

Asher continues, “I’ve got these rituals, you know? Things I’ve got to do to keep sane.”

“Like what?” Martin asks, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“The tape on my stick needs to be in a certain symmetrical pattern, and if I don’t get it looking exactly the way I like, I redo it until it overlaps precisely half an inch each time over the twenty-four wraps.

Or like when I get my game gear on, I need to do it in the same order every time. No changes.”

“What happens if you don’t do these things?” Carmen asks, enraptured.

Asher shakes his head, his lips pulled into a line. “I’ve never risked it.” He returns his gaze to his clasped hands in his lap.

“You’re doing good,” Cade encourages once more.

Asher’s chest rises and falls before he looks back up at us.

“The thing is I was diagnosed with OCD a while back. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. With the move across country to this new town and new team, I guess it’s flared back up, and I’ve been trying to get on top of it.

Cade noticed and we got to talking. Then he found this group and suggested I come along. ”

Cade beams at him like a proud father. Which is so weird, not to mention utterly unsettling. I had this guy pegged as a total lightweight who loved to flirt. A playboy with as much depth as a puddle after a summer shower.

Not someone who encourages a teammate to attend a support group to help him with his OCD.

“Good for you,” Bernice says, and there’s a general agreement within the group. “Quite a few top athletes have OCD, Asher. Royce White, Simone Biles, David Beckham, Rafael Nadal, to name a few.”

“See? That’s what I said,” Cade adds .

“Lennox said you guys would get it.” Asher’s features relax, and I slide my eyes to Cade to see him watching his teammate with a mixture of pride and kindness in his eyes.

Huh.

“We do get it, and we’re here for you. Isn’t that right, everyone?” Bernice says, and we all echo, “Right.”

Asher’s features relax, transforming him back to the guy I know once more, the guy who led his teammates in the TikTok dance with such certainty, such confidence. Who knew this other side of him lurked beneath, a side that needs routines and orderliness, without which, anxiety takes hold.

“That’s great to hear,” Asher says. “Cade said these groups are awesome and have really helped him.”

Wait, what?

I swivel around to gawk at Cade. Not only is he perceptive and supportive of Asher, but he also attends support groups?

Why?

Cade clears his throat. “I find it super useful to get tips on things like self-care and energy management for my mom. She has lupus,” Cade explains.

Cade’s mom has lupus? And he attends support meetings so he can help her and learn how to cope?

My jaw has officially hit the floor.

“And what about you, Cade?” Bernice asks, her voice soft. “What do you find useful in groups like ours?”

She’s a smart one, that Bernice. Always able to read the subtext, to follow the trail left unwittingly behind, and this is one trail I’m fascinated to hear.

Cade pauses for a beat. “I guess it does a bunch of stuff for me. It reminds me that my mom isn’t alone in her suffering, which is comforting, you know? I guess there’s something in it for me, too, in that I feel…less alone, I guess.”

I still. This new side to him doesn’t fit with everything I know about this man and his flirty, carefree, womanizing ways.

Could a guy who cares that deeply for his mom, goes out of his way to learn strategies to help her, shows kindness and understanding toward a teammate, also be a total party boy who doesn’t appear to think deeply about anything ?

I watch him as he continues to talk, my mind scrambling to make sense of these two incongruous versions of him. He speaks with love in his voice about his mom, how hard he found it to move across the country away from her, how he hopes to bring her here if he signs with the team for another season.

As I listen, the only conclusion I can draw is that perhaps I’ve misjudged him.

And if I have misjudged him and his depth is less like a puddle and more like an ocean, could I be in some serious trouble here?

His gaze sweeps to mine and my breath catches, the sincerity in his eyes plain to see. Cade Lennox has depths I never suspected, and I may very well be in more trouble than I ever imagined.