I managed to smile back. That was again a conversation we’d had before, and he always seemed to know when I needed to hear it. Not being able to fix something was frustrating, and sometimes I needed to hear that not everything was mine to fix. One of these days, maybe that would stick. In the meantime, I was grateful I had Dan to gently remind me.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I should let you go, though. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Any time. You know that.” He glanced at something off-camera before meeting my gaze again. “I should run—I have practice.”
“Me too. Buses leave soon for the airport.”
“Okay. Travel safe.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
After we ended the call, I closed my eyes and leaned against the headboard. I did need to leave soon, but a few minutes to get my mind back on the rails wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Dan was right about everything, and I knew it. Still, the thought of waiving my no-move clause needled the back of my brain. Maybe everything going on wasn’t my problem tofix, but that didn’t mean I needed to stick around and watch my teammates struggle. Or watch one teammate in particular who might or might not have been self-destructing.
I wanted to be there for these men. Be a team player. Be a supporter while they tried to play through their grief. Be Avery’s teammate and linemate andnotbe a source of anger and frustration for him.
But I had to take care of myself, too. Watching him hurt like that—it hurtme. Sitting back and letting it happen, accepting that I couldn’t do anything to fix it or even help him…
Much more of that, and this team was going to havetwoplayers in uncontrollable downward spirals.
I hated admitting it. I hated thinking it.
But the truth was, if only to protect my own sanity…
Maybe I couldn’t stay on the Whiskey Rebels.
On the team’s charter jet, I stowed my carry-on and took my seat. Closing my eyes, I debated if I wanted to eat something once we were in the air. I’d barely touched my breakfast, and I wasn’t used to going this long without eating anything substantial.
As Dan had suggested, I studied my teammates’ vibes to see they handled things going forward. If they were acting like everything was normal on this flight, then maybe I could do the same, including unwinding my stomach so I could eat.
So far, the vibe was subdued but not overly tense. I’d seen Avery chatting with Ziggy and Baddy on the bus as if nothing unusual had happened last night or this morning. He and Eminem had been chirping about something on theway through the airport. By the time we’d been about to board, I’d started to convince myself things were tilting in the direction of normal.
Right up until Avery and I had made eye contact across the airport lounge.
We’d locked eyes for all of a second or two, and in an instant, his expression had shifted. He’d been laughing at something Baddy had said, but his humor had vanished and he’d looked away from me.
I had no idea if he’d bounced back after that; I hadn’t dared look his direction.
Now that we were on the plane, I closed my eyes and listened to my teammates settling in all around me. They were getting back into the usual groove of chirping, challenging each other to card or video games, and sneering over the awful officiating that had apparently happened in the Seattle-San Jose game last night. Everyone on the plane sounded like things were back to normal.
Maybe I just needed to follow suit. I wasn’t sure how—last night prodded at me like a piece of gear pressing into a bruise—but if they were all moving on, then I needed to do the same. I needed to listen to my ex, listen to my teammates, get a goddamned grip, and?—
“Mind if I sit there?”
My eyes flew open at the sound of Avery’s voice. I thought he must’ve been talking to someone else, but no, he was standing over me, a bag strap on his shoulder and an uncomfortable look on his face.
He wasn’t hostile. No anger in sight. If anything, he seemed a little sheepish.
“Uh.” I pulled my legs back. “Yeah. Sure. Do you want the window or the aisle?”
“Window is fine.” He slid in between me and the seats infront of us. Fortunately the charter jets had leg room like commercial business class, so it wasn’t a tight squeeze for him at all. After he was situated, he turned an uneasy look on me. “Let’s, um… Let’s wait until we’re in the air.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I nodded. I could read between the lines—he wanted to talk, but he wanted to wait until the noise of the plane gave us some relative privacy.
Thank God, we didn’t have to wait long. He’d been one of the last to board, and minutes later, we were taxiing. After takeoff, with the steady, familiar roar drowning out most of the conversations around us, he turned to me.
“Look,” he said. “I’m… sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”
