Page 2 of Ash and his Dragon

Cole had noticed now too. I caught him in my peripheral vision, his body angled slightly, green eyes flicking between Ash and the man at the rope as something unreadable passed over his face.

Taz had gone quiet beside him, which for Taz was its own kind of alarm bell.

“Ashton, come on, it’s your old man, don’t be like that—”

The words hit Ash like a physical blow.

I watched it happen, watched something crack behind his eyes before the mask slammed back down, faster than I’d ever seen anyone recover from anything.

“Move,” I said to the security guard nearest the rope, sharper now, no room in it for negotiation. “Get him back.”

The guard startled into motion.

Ash still hadn’t taken a single step.

I closed the distance between us in three strides and put myself between him and the rope line, my back to the man calling his name like it was some kind of invitation, like Ash owed him a conversation, an interview, anything at all.

“Ash.” Quieter now, just for him. “Eyes on me.”

It took a second.

Two.

His hazel eyes dragged up to mine, and whatever I saw there before he buried it made something cold settle low in my gut.

Not embarrassment.

Not annoyance at an overeager fan.

Fear.

“I’m fine,” he said, and his voice came out steadier than it had any right to, given what I’d just watched cross his face. “Just tired.”

“Sure.”

I didn’t believe it for a second, and from the way his eyes narrowed slightly, he knew I didn’t. But I let it go because this wasn’t the moment for it, not with Coach two steps behind us and a hundred witnesses and cameras somewhere just out of sight looking for exactly this kind of story.

“Let’s go.”

I put a hand on his shoulder to turn him toward the locker room, and I felt it—the fine tremor running through him, barely perceptible, gone the second he registered I’d noticed.

He shrugged out from under my hand, but I kept it loose at the small of his back as we moved, not quite touching, just close enough that he’d feel it if he stumbled.

He wouldn’t stumble.

Ash didn’t stumble, not on skates, not off them.

Behind us, I heard the guard finally earning his paycheck.

“Sir, you need to step back from the rope—”

“I’m his father, I have every right—”

“Sir.”

I didn’t look back.

Neither did Ash, and that told me more than anything else could.