I found myself watching Kayla in the periphery. She was leaning back, her shoes kicked off, laughing as she tried to defend her love for sentimental movies against Gabe’s relentless teasing. Every time our eyes met, there was a heat there, a lingering, gooey connection that had survived the bar, the rink, and the silence.
"You're surprisingly good at this," she whispered to me while Gabe was occupied trying to film a TikTok of a particularly ridiculous roadside attraction near Waco.
"Good at what? Driving?"
"Being a person," she said, her voice soft and sincere. "I thought pro athletes were all… I don't know, ego and proteinshakes. But you're good with him, Michael. You make him feel like he's part of the team."
"Heispart of the team," I said, and I meant it.
We pulled into a greasy-spoon diner near Hillsboro for brunch which, according to Gabe, meant a burger the size of his head and a milkshake. We sat in a vinyl booth that smelled like maple syrup and old memories.
"So, the plan for Dallas," I said, sliding a fry across the table toward Gabe. "I’ve got to head to the arena early for the morning skate. You guys have the afternoon. There’s a spot near Dealy Plaza with the best tacos in the city, but stay away from the tourist traps."
"Are you going back to the hotel after?" Kayla asked.
"Team rules say I have to stay with the guys the night before a game," I said, feeling a genuine pang of regret. "But I’ll have tickets waiting for you at Will Call. Right behind the bench."
Gabe’s eyes went wide. "Behind the bench? Like, I can hear the chirping?"
"You’ll hear things that’ll make your mom cover your ears," I grinned.
As we walked back to the car, the sun was high and the Texas heat was starting to bake the asphalt. Gabe ran ahead to the gas station to grab a Gatorade, leaving Kayla and me alone for a moment by the passenger door.
The air between us suddenly pulled tight, the humor of the car ride settling into something deeper. I reached out, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. I didn't pull away this time.
"Thanks for coming," I said. "I know it wasn't easy to trust me again after the park."
"I'm glad we came," she breathed, her eyes searching mine. She looked like she wanted to say more—maybe about the bar, maybe about the dance with Tucker—but she just smiled. "You're a complicated man, Michael Landry."
"I'm just a guy trying to stay in the game," I said.
We hit the road again, the Dallas skyline shimmering like a mirage on the horizon. Gabe was back to his music, but he wasn't hooded anymore. He was looking out the window, tapping his fingers to the beat, occasionally asking me about the defensive pairings for the Stars.
I looked at the two of them… the woman who made me want to be better and the kid who was currently my biggest secret and my biggest project. For the first time since I’d been traded to San Antonio, I didn't feel like a guest. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Even if I was technically an accomplice to a teenager's midnight run.
"Dallas, here we come," Gabe shouted as we hit the 635 loop.
"Lock in, boys," I said, gripping the wheel. "It’s game time."
A few minutes later, I pulled the Jeep into a sprawling, gravel-pitted diner parking lot just north of Waxahachie.
"Pit stop," I announced, killing the engine. "Last chance for real caffeine before we hit the city traffic."
Gabe unbuckled with a sudden, sharp energy. He didn't head for the door. Instead, he leaned over the center console, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel like it was the Holy Grail.
"Hey, Michael. Since we’re in a private lot and it’s basically empty... can I drive? Just to the other side?"
Kayla, who had been reaching for her purse, froze. "No. Absolutely not. Never."
"Mom, come on!" Gabe groaned, his voice hitting that specific teenage frequency of pure agony. "I’m fifteen. I’m literally months away from a permit. You’re being so overprotective it’s actually stifling my development as a functional human."
"Functional humans don't wrap five-ton trucks around diner signs," Kayla shot back, stepping out of the Jeep and smoothing her jeans. "The answer is no, Gabriel. Not today, not in this car, not in this lifetime."
She looked at me, a silent warning flashing in her eyes that saidDon't you dare side with him.
"I'm going in to get a stack of those world famous waffles to go," she said, pointing a finger at both of us. "If I come out and this car has moved so much as an inch, you’re re-grounded and walking the rest of the way to Dallas."
