“People change,” I mutter.
Cole catches my eye and nods. For once, the robot and I are on the same wavelength, except hockey is not the reason I’m behaving myself. Heck, I’m starting to love this grown-up version of me.
The conversation shifts to Toronto's defense. I half-listen, contributing when asked, but my attention keeps drifting forward.
Avery is taking notes on her tablet, nodding at something Jennifer is saying. Then the plane hits a patch of turbulence, but it’s nothing major, just a little bump. Avery’s hands grip the armrests.
Fuck, she’s scared of flying.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to go to her. To slide into the seat next to her, take her hand, distract her with some stupid story until the shaking stops.
Except I can’t, so instead, I pull out my phone.
Me: Statistically, you're more likely to be killed by a vending machine than in a plane crash. So unless there's a rogue vending machine on this jet, you're fine.
Avery pulls her phone from her pocket, the screen lighting up her face. Her eyes scan the message, and then her shoulders start to shake. Her laughter rings out through the cabin.
I did that.Even from three rows back, even when we can’t be together, I can still make her feel better.
And shit, that feels good.
The turbulence smooths out, and I shove my phone back in my pocket, relieved that my woman is good.
We land in Toronto just after noon. The buses are waiting on the tarmac, ready to take us to the hotel. We’re booked at the Delta downtown, since it’s close to the arena.
The ride to the hotel is short. The guys are getting louder now, the pre-game energy building. Someone starts a bettingpool on who'll score first tonight. Someone else is already planning where we'll go after the game to celebrate.
I text Avery. I need to see her. Pronto.
Me: Hotel bar at 10?
Avery: After the game. Be patient.
I bite back a smile. Patience. Right. That's definitely my strong suit.
Me: Too long.
Avery: It'll be worth it. I promise.
I know. Still, it doesn’t make the waiting any easier.
The hotel is chaos. Check-in, room assignments, everyone scattering to their rooms to drop bags before the team meeting at two. I end up rooming with Jake, like always on road trips.
As we’re unpacking, Jake turns to me. “I kind of like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Less of an asshole. She’s good for you.”
I don’t know why that makes me feel so fucking good. “Yeah.”
Morning skate is at the arena at three. It’s a standard routine before a game. Loosen up, go through systems, and get a feel for the ice. The Toronto arena is loud even during practice, with dedicated fans showing up hours early to watch.
I spot Avery in the tunnel, talking to someone from the Toronto media team. She's wearing dark jeans and a Renegades polo with her hair pulled back. And I can't stop staring.
“Novak,” Coach yells. “You planning to join us or just stand there?”
“Sorry, Coach.” I skate over, forcing myself to focus.
