The words hang between us, heavy, raw. My throat tightens with relief.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. His gaze catches mine, steady and unguarded, and it feels like the ground shifts under my feet. My fingers twitch against the counter, almost reaching for him, but I stop myself.
His eyes flick down—to my mouth, my hands, back to my eyes—and my breath stutters. The air hums with tension, like if either of us leaned an inch closer, we’d fall the rest of the way.
I manage a shaky smile and step toward the door.
“I should get back,” I murmur.
“Charlie.”
I glance back.
His jaw works, words half-formed, then swallowed.
“See you tomorrow.”
He’s not pushing me away this time.
The thought alone makes me smile.
Chapter Twenty
DECLAN
The engines hum steady as we level off, the cabin lights dimmed to a low glow.
David catches my eye across the aisle, gives me a quick nod. “Good to have you back.”
“About damn time,” I mutter, though I can’t stop the faint pull at my mouth.
A few of the guys throw the usual chirps. Dalton grins, taps the back of his seat. “Look who decided to rejoin civilization.”
“You bring the lucky brace with you?” Torres calls from up front.
I shake my head. “Someone’s gotta keep you idiots in line.”
They laugh, and for the first time in weeks, it feels like breathing again.
Coach McCarthy glances back at the noise and shakes his head with a faint grin. “Try not to break anything before we land.”
“No promises,” I call back, earning another round of laughter.
The familiar rhythm of a road trip hits different this time. I’m not lacing up, but I’m here—on the plane, on the bench, in it again. It’s not the same as playing, but I’ll take what I can get.
Behind me, the medical crew is settled in a few rows back. Vic’s asleep already, mouth half open behind his ball cap. Dan’s flipping through papers. Charlie’s across the aisle, earbuds in, one hand around a travel mug.
Her blonde hair’s loose today, not tied back like usual. She’s scrolling through her tablet, a faint smile on her lips. Even from here, there’s something about her that softens the edges of everything.
We haven’t talked since yesterday, but I can feel her anyway. At least she knows why I pulled back. The truth is out there. It doesn’t change the distance, but it explains it.
The energy between us crackles like static—too much said, too much held back. It’s charged, raw, waiting—like one look could burn through every reason we shouldn’t.
I gaze out the window. Outside, the peaks of the Rockies fade beneath a thin layer of cloud. Seattle’s a couple hours away. Round 2 starts tomorrow.
Reed’s been steady—loud when the bench needs it, quick with a joke when the room gets too tight. He’s good for the guys. Exactly the kind of voice I want when I’m stuck on the sidelines.
Doesn’t mean it’s easy to watch. Pride’s there, sure, but so is that twist in my chest every time I see him filling the space that used to be mine. I tell myself it’s temporary, that I’ll be back soon. Still, it sits wrong.
