ETHAN
The next morning,I'm sitting on the plane trying to focus on my book. We're twenty minutes from wheels up and Carter still hasn't arrived. I've texted him once already and I'm considering a phone call when I hear a shout from Matty behind me.
“He lives!”
Sure enough, Carter is working his way down the aisle, a huge smile on his face. He drops into the seat next to me, heaving a sigh as he does. He catches my eye, the smile not dimming a bit.
“Thanks for the text, Cap. For some reason I slept like the dead.”
I feel a smile trying to crack through. I bet he did – when I left, he was snoring and spread diagonally across his bed. I'd grabbed a blanket from the couch to drape across him, not wanting him to wake up naked and cold. I guess I should have made sure he had an alarm set, too.
Just as I'm about to respond, Matthews drops into the seat across from Carter and I face back toward the window.
“Damn, dude. I was gonna give you shit about the walk of shame, but how can I when you look that happy?”
Carter laughs. “Who's ashamed, Matty?”
Matty apparently finds this hilarious, bumping Jamie's fist as he returns to his seat with Sutter. Meanwhile, I feel a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck, sure that someone will know exactly who put the smile on his face.
“You sleep ok, Cap? It'll be a late one tonight.” A hint of wariness is in his eyes, and I know what he's really asking – are we ok?
I scratch the back of my head and take a deep breath, willing the panic that was crawling over my skin back down. I clear my throat and meet his eyes.
“Yeah, Carter. I, uh, slept remarkably well.” I try to smile, but I'm sure it looks dim next to his. Still, I hope he knows what I'm saying – that last night was good, that I hope we're good, too.
He gives me a little nod and I hope the message has gotten through.
“So, New York. What's the inside scoop?”
“Huh?”
“It's your old man's team, right? Got anything you want to share with the rest of us?”
And just like that, it feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on my head.
“He, uh, doesn't really have anything to do with them anymore.”
“Nah, I know. But you've always got something to say abouteveryteam. So what's the deal?”
I try to swallow, but find my throat constricting.
“They're, uh, having a bad season. Sloppy forwards. Weak defense.” My voice sounds weak to my own ears, and the look of confusion on his face tells me he hears it too.
“You okay, Cap?” His eyes shoot to the back of the plane, and I can tell he'd rather be having this conversation one-on-one.
The feeling is mutual. I'd love to bury my face in his neck, my nose right up against that spot that makes him shiver. Maybe then Icould tell him everything, tell him why my stomach is in knots and my head is starting to pulse.
Instead, I just look at him and say, “We really need to win this one, Jamie.”
I wishI could say the plane ride next to Jamie soothed my nerves, that I don't feel the anxiety trying to claw its way out through my skin. But as I start my pre-game rituals, I can feel both Alexei and Jamie looking at me, and I know I must not be covering it very well.
I sit there, thinking of how to fire up the boys, and I'm absurdly grateful when Alexei decides to do it himself.
“Gentlemen, we have beat far more skillful teams already this year.”
Some of the younger guys cheer at that, but Alexei's stare quiets them.
“Still, it is easy to become complacent. We cannot allow them to dictate our level of play. We will playourgame, and make them come to us. Yes?”
