Glancing next to me, I study Tessa for what feels like the hundredth time. She's in the aisle seat of our row—the one nextto the seat saved for Ruthie and the furthest from me—but it doesn't matter. She's had her face in a book the entire flight.
Ruthie, who is everyone's favorite person on the team, has been bouncing around from seat to seat to talk to every player she says she hasn't seen in too long. I, however, like peace on my flight before a game. I like to listen to music, center myself, prepare for what's to come—things I haven't been able to focus on since takeoff.
Something's up with Tessa. I don't know what it is exactly, but she's given me the cold shoulder since she pulled into our driveway. She's still in there somewhere—I see the other version of her every time Ruthie pops into the picture—but here, with just me, it's like I don't exist.
It hits me that this must’ve been what she felt like—trying to reach me while I was so worried about keeping my distance. And now, here I am, chasing her depth the way she used to chase mine. It's the perfect reminder of why I need to be better.
I tried to make small talk on the bus ride over. I explained the schedule and the hotel arrangements—we each have a room, and Ruthie shares mine. I even showed her the view from her seats on my phone. She played nice, smiling and nodding as I went along, but the bubbly girl I've had to actively avoid growing close to has yet to make an appearance tonight.
The plane rattles with the low hum of voices, Mack and the other coaches in the front, the two flight attendants casually laughing behind the bathrooms. The players do a little bit of everything—the pitchers tend to keep to themselves, the outfielders all hang in a group. Jace wears headphones twice the size of his head and listens to music I can hear from our row.
But all of that background noise only amplifies the silence two seats down from me. I invited Tess with us with the intention that this would be our fresh start—no more dodging details or running from proximity. I want to get to know the woman working with Ruthie—the one she seems to love. I want to get to know her in general. And I'm afraid if it doesn't happen this weekend, I'll lose the nerve I have altogether.
"Whatchya reading?"
Tess peers over, her thumb sliding up from the bottom of the page to hold her spot. "A book," she says with a gentle smile. Her tone isn't short,but her answer is, and a nervous energy I've never felt on a travel day rises to the surface. It mixes with the guilt I feel for putting her in this same situation.
"What's it about?"
Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink as the cover slowly falls shut. It's black—almost made to appear leathery—with dead red roses and smoke swirling around a weathered skull wearing a gold crown.
"The Book of Kings?"
She nods, snapping it open again, her eyes glazing over the words. When she glances up and sees me still staring at her, waiting, she swallows hard.
"It's uh, about motorcycles."
"Motorcycles?"
"Mhmm"
I hold my gaze.
"A romance—Lock and Nina's. It's a little dark," she admits.
"Uh huh," I say hesitantly, lingering for her to tell me what I already know. I tend to lean more memoir or historical fiction, but I know the section of the bookstore I'd find that one in.
Her eyes dart from me to the page, then back again, and when the corners of my lips curl up, she sighs. "It's about a tattooed motorcycle club president who meets the snarky new girl in town and shows her his business—in more ways than one."
My smile fades, my eyes growing wide as I yank my neck back. "I hope you don't plan on letting my daughter read over your shoulder."
Tess's mouth drops open, her face turning redder, but this time it's not out of embarrassment. "Liam, I would never do that. And the fact that you would even—"
"Tessa."
She freezes when I say her name.
"I was kidding."
Her whole body relaxes for just a moment until it tightens again as she realizes the mistake she made. "Shit." Her hand flies to her mouth. "Shoot. Sorry." She starts flailing, pulling her purse out from under theseat in front of her and shoving the book inside. She clips the pages once, twice, before it finally goes in safely—and a little bent.
"Hey…" I reach out on instinct and put my palm on her arm. She freezes and so do I, but not for the same reasons. Touching her sends a shiver down my spine I can't quite place.
Because I'm anxious? Because it's foreign? Because… I liked it?
Tess swings her head my way. "Are you okay?" I ask.
The pink returns to her cheeks as she clenches her jaw, then sighs. "I'm fine. Just a rough day. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you."
