“Right. He giving you trouble?” Logan grins. “He gives everyone trouble.”
“He’s... a work in progress.”
Logan laughs, the dimple in his left cheek appearing. “That’s diplomatic. Banks just calls him a stubborn asshole.”
“Banks isn’t wrong.”
The voice comes from behind me, deep and dry. I turn to find Banks Callahan settling into the seat behind Logan. He’s huge—six-four, built like a brick wall, with a permanent scowl that makes him look like he’s contemplating murder at all times. Defenseman. Twenty-nine. The guys call him “The Wall” for obvious reasons.
“Don’t scare the new girl, Walls,” Logan says.
“I’m not new,” I point out. “I’ve been here two months.”
“You’re new until you’ve survived a road trip.” Banks pulls out a book and doesn’t look up again. “Good luck.”
More players file on. Archer Lockwood—Woody—drops into a seat near the back and immediately passes out, hat pulled low over his eyes. I remember he’s got two-year-old twins at home. The man probably hasn’t slept in two years.
Grayson Reed swaggers past with two other guys I don’t know well, laughing too loud at something on his phone. He catches my eye and winks.
I don’t wink back.
“Reed’s a tool,” Logan says, following my gaze. “Ignore him.”
“Noted.”
“I mean it. He’s got a thing for—” Logan stops abruptly, looking past me. “Hey, Bish.”
I turn. Zayden is standing in the aisle, duffel over his shoulder, looking at Logan’s feet propped on the seat next to me.
“Palmer,” he greets Logan with a cool tone.
“What’s up?”
“You’re in my seat.”
Logan blinks. “Since when do you sit in the front?”
“Since now.”
There’s a beat of silence. Something passes between them—some kind of guy telepathy I’m not fluent in—and then Logan grins, pulling his feet down.
“All yours, man.” He stands, shooting me a look I can’t quite read. “Catch you later, Tori.”
He ambles toward the back of the plane, leaving me alone with Zayden, who slides into the seat Logan just vacated.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Kick him out.”
“I didn’t kick him out.” Zayden stows his bag under the seat. “I just wanted this seat.”
“You said yourself you don’t usually sit up front.”
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Maybe I like the view.”
I don’t know what to do with that, so I do what I always do when Zayden throws me off-balance—I deflect.
