I look at Louis. He’s slumped back in the chair. His eyes are heavy, but he’s watching me. A slow, drug-hazed smirk tugs at his mouth.
“Mentor, huh?” he mumbles. “Does this mean I get to boss you around, Rookie?”
I fight the heat rising in my cheeks. “Go back to sleep, old man.”
“Aye aye.” He closes his eyes, slipping back into sleep.
His hand slips off the armrest, landing on my thigh. It’s supposed to be an accident, something he did in his sleep.
But he doesn’t move it. And neither do I.
***
The plane drops through the thick layer of cloud as it descends into Seattle. It’s early afternoon, but it’s dim and gray out there: the flat, colorless light of a stormy Pacific Northwest winter.
Rain slashes sideways across the windows as we touch down with a thump that reverberates through my chest. Beside me, Louis hisses in pain.
The quiet bubble we’ve been living in for the past hour or so dissolves into noise and movement as we taxi to a stop and guys start getting up to gather their stuff.
We let most of the team file out before getting up to avoid anyone accidentally bumping Lou’s shoulder. Once it’s clear, I grab our bags. We step out of the cabin door onto the outside stairs, and the cold, wet wind hits like a slap in the face. Forty-five degrees and sideways rain. Delightful.
Louis stops dead, ducking and turning his face away from the wind.
“Shit,” he breathes, shivering as he grabs the railing.
I want to take off my own jacket and wrap it around him. Better yet, I want to wrap my arms around him and take him somewhere warm and dry. But we’re surrounded by teammates and management, so I have to settle for using my body to block the worst of it as we descend the stairs.
“You good?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah.” His teeth are chattering. “Just fucking cold.”
Rylan and Jamie appear beside us. They’ve grabbed Lou’s suitcase in addition to their own.
“Come on, we’ll take you home,” Rylan says to Louis. “Jamie’ll drive yours, you can ride with me. There’s more room and heated seats in the truck.”
Jamie already has his hand out.
Louis blinks, slow and confused. “What? No, I can—”
“What, are you gonna drive with one arm while high on painkillers?” Rylan rolls his eyes, but his voice is gentle. “Come on, dude, don’t argue.”
“Right. Okay, yeah.” Louis fumbles in his pocket, wincing at the movement, and drops his keys into Jamie’s hand.
Rylan’s big, black F-150 is parked three spots down. He opens the passenger door, and the interior light spills out, warm and inviting.
He helps Louis up, one hand on his back and the other gripping his good arm. It’s the kind of familiarity that comes from a lifetime of friendship. Louis settles into the seat.
Before Rylan closes the door, Lou’s eyes find mine through the rain. He looks exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes visible even from here. He raises his good hand in a small, tired wave.
He looks vulnerable and uncertain. Like he’s trying to summon his usual happy-go-lucky persona, but he doesn’t have the energy.
I nod, standing there with the rain soaking through my jacket, as the door slams shut and Rylan rounds the truck.
Jamie jogs past me toward Louis’s SUV. “See you tomorrow, Sinc!”
“Yeah.” My voice sounds faraway.
The lot empties fast. Engines rumbling to life and headlights cut through the gray gloom, catching the thick, heavy raindrops as they fall relentlessly. Everyone’s heading home to partners or families. I’m heading home to an empty condo in an impersonal tower.
