I look up as Dasan sits in the seat across the aisle and offer him a small smile. “Hi.”
“He okay?”
As if that was a prompt to look back at Felton, I do. I get lost in admiring the shape of his face. The curve of his nose. His long dark lashes on his cheeks.
Asleep, he looks… well, not as carefree as he had, but he doesn’t look nearly as beaten as he does when he’s awake.
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I admit.
“You’re good for him, Ren,” Dasan says. I look up, meeting his eyes. “I’ve known Felton a long time and I can see how much you mean to him.”
“You’ve been on the team for less than two years.”
He grins. “We met in passing half a dozen years before that and instantly clicked.” My eyes narrow as I study him. When his smile climbs, I think we both know I don’t think he’s giving me all the details. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and I know him pretty well. So I feel confident in telling you I can see theway he sheds some of the stress and anxiety as soon as he sees you. His smile may not be big right now, but it’s only there at all because of you.”
I look down at Felton again. He deserves to smile. Always. I’m just not sure how to make that happen. He can’t seem to shake this last confrontation with his father.
“I really hope you plan to stick around,” Dasan says.
I nod absently, not really in answer to him, but because I’d just been thinking about that. I’m supposed to take him home when we land. But the idea of leaving him makes me unsettled. It’s not even just for his sake that I feel that way, but for mine too. I don’twantto go home without him.
“I have sixty acres,” Dasan says and I glance up at him again, wondering what this has to do with anything at all. “A lot of it’s forested.”
“I have a shovel,” Willits says from somewhere behind us.
Dasan grins. “It’d be a long time before someone found the body.”
“If you’re going to contemplate murder, please do that where you don’t have two dozen witnesses,” Coach Shively deadpans.
“Just making sure you’re paying attention, Coach,” Dasan teases, his smile wicked. I swear, there’s a glint in his eyes as he stares into mine.
I shift slightly so I can glance around the seats, finding Coach toward the front. I can only make out a bit of him from this angle. He hums in acknowledgment.
Righting myself, I look at Felton again. “Honestly, if I thought that would help, I’d make it happen. But I don’t think that’ll give him the peace he needs.”
A tap on my arm has me shifting again, though I’m careful not to disturb Felton. Nason hands me a card. “The number to my therapist. When I tell you I have some serious mommy and daddy issues, I can’t express that shit enough. She’s real good.”
I accept it with thanks and study Felton’s face. That’ll likely help, but I’m not sure he wants to talk to someone. I promised to do everything within my power to make him happy and what’s good for him, but if this is going to make him unhappy and resent me, I definitely don’t want to push. I sure as hell don’t want to makethisdecision for him.
We’ll talk about it.
Looking up, I catch Zenia’s eyes. He’s watching me and if no one else has truly caught on to what’s really going on between me and Felton, Zen has. He gives me a half smile before turning around and facing forward again.
I stare out the window for most of the remainder of the flight. Or admire Felton sleeping. The flight is quiet except for the brief flurry of amused conversation after Denny announces the latest headline with Winnipeg's owner. Apparently he disappeared to the mountains alone for Christmas and came back married—to a male pro-hockey player. Edries Franklin must have hit some record for most mentions in weird headlines at this point.
By the time we land and are on the bus, I’m contemplating how to make sure Felton comes home with me. He hasn’t been home in over a month. Not since before the break. If for no other reason, he probably should make sure his house is in one piece. Undisturbed.
Back at the arena, I put our bags in my trunk and load him into the passenger side of my car. He’s quiet. I take his hand as I drive down the road, seeing his absent smile as he stares out the window from the corner of my eye.
I’ve made an abrupt and possibly disastrous decision by the time we pull into his driveway. Leaving the bags in his car, I gesture to the front door. “Let us in.”
Felton glances at my trunk but doesn’t argue. Once inside, we kick off our shoes and I follow him in. “Go choose your favorite wind chimes.”
He studies me for a minute before slipping his shoes back on and heading for the balcony off the living room while I go search his bedroom for suitcases. I find a couple. In the spare room, there’s a stack of folded boxes in the closet that I commandeer as well.
I’m in the middle of emptying his drawers into a suitcase when Felton comes into the room with three wind chimes. He watches me silently. When I’m finished arranging the pile I have, I turn to him. “Just those three?”
With his head tilted to the side, he shrugs. “I don’t know what we’re doing, so I didn’t really know how many I’m allowed.”
