18. Maverick
EIGHTEEN
“On the road again.”I lean back in my seat on the charter plane and stretch out my legs. “People always have such nice things to say about Chicago in November.”
Hudson laughs across the table from me. “That’s like saying the North Pole has the nicest beaches around. It’s going to be cold as hell, and I forgot my beanie at home. It’s my lucky one, too, so if things go wrong in tomorrow’s game, you can blame me.”
“Can I blame you for the other three losses?” I joke, knowing fully well it’s not Hudson’s fault we’ve stumbled into a losing streak.
We’ve all been off lately, but I’ve been really fucking off.
I’ve missed open shots on net. I’ve spent more time in the penalty box this past week than I did the first month of the season. I keep letting my frustrations out on the ice, which puts my teammates at a disadvantage that isn’t fair to them.
I’m distracted, some outside force occupying my mind and pulling my attention from the game, but I can’t figure out what the hell it is.
I’ve tried to do puzzles. I’ve tried to meditate like the team psychologist suggested. I’ve been getting enough sleep and sticking to the nutrition plan my personal chef put together, but something is still off.
It’s irritating the fuck out of me, and I don’t like that it’s also affecting the team.
“Do you have any plans for the Windy City?” Hudson asks as he taps on his headphones. “You’re probably getting into something tonight, right? Grant mentioned a club or a karaoke bar or a karaoke club. The details have slipped my mind.”
“I think he was talking about a club that plays the top songs people pick when they sing karaoke, but the idea of a karaoke club could be really fucking lucrative.” I turn my phone on airplane mode and slip it in my pocket. “I’m not going, though. I’m just going to chill at the hotel. Why? Do you have plans?”
“Come on, man.” He laughs and brushes pieces of blonde hair out of his eyes. “You know my away game tradition consists of croissants from local bakeries and checking out bookstores.”
“Hud. Have your traditions ever included a one-night stand?” I ask. I dig deep into my memory, and there’s no recollection of him bringing anyone back to the hotel after curfew.
“Nah. You know that’s not my thing. I’m a relationship guy.” A blush creeps up his neck, and he grins sheepishly. “I’d have no idea how to handle that. You go from talking to hooking up in a couple of hours? What about getting to know them?”
“That’s the whole point. You don’t get to know them. It’s just mindless stuff for you both to enjoy for the night. No names. No personal details. No sticking around.”
“I think I’d be terrible at it. I’d be asking her where she sees herself in five years while she’s got her hand down my pants.” He stares at me, and his sudden attention makes me fidgety. “Speaking of one-night stands, you’ve been different lately.”
“Different?”
“You’re not sneaking anyone into your room. You’re downstairs at breakfast before all of us, and there haven’t been any hickeys on your neck.” Hudson leans forward, pulling on my collar, and I bat his hand away. “It’s interesting.”
I pop a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m putting hockey first and trying to keep us from losing four in a row. I think that win we stole last week was a fluke.”
“It’s not just right now. It’s been going on for a while. Ever since—” Hudson sits up and looks over his shoulder. He rubs his jaw, and there’s something on the tip of his tongue he’s not telling me. “Anyway. I’m here if there’s ever anything you need to talk about. No judgment. I promise.”
“I appreciate that, Hud, but I’m fine.” I smile. “If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
“Hi, boys.” The flight attendant leans her elbow on my seat and bats her eyes at us. I’m not sure her tight shirt is in line with the airline’s uniform standards, but that’s above my pay grade. “Can you put your seatbelts on, please?”
“Sure thing,” I say, and I give her a thumbs-up. She giggles and flips her hair over her shoulder, hurrying down the aisle. “Wow. Didn’t know I was that funny.”
“You’re not,” Hudson draws out. “She wants to join the mile high club with you.”
“Fuck, no. There’s probably piss everywhere, and I have some standards.”
The plane pushes back and taxis out, rolling down the runway until we’re in the air and DC turns into a speck behind us.
The flight attendants keep the overhead lights off, knowing that most of us like to sleep on morning flights, but I’m restless.
I can’t sit still, and I crane my neck over the seats until I see long red hair ten rows up.
I jump into the aisle and saunter toward the front of the aircraft. I get stopped by Seymour and Connor on the way, answering their questions that no, they sure as shit cannot eat hotdogs for lunch tomorrow before the game but yes, they can have deep dish pizza tonight.
When I finally get to Emerson’s row, I grin down at her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, barely looking up from her phone. It’s like she was waiting for me. “The seat belt sign is on, and this is a safety risk.”
“Guess I’ll have to sit next to you then.” I plop down in the aisle seat and shrug out of my suit jacket. “What’s up?”
“Really?” She lifts her chin and finally glances my way, a scowl on her mouth. “It’s too early to be having conversations, Miller. Do you ever sleep?”
“You were just talking with Piper and Lexi.”
“They’re my friends.”
“Am I not your friend?”
“No.” Emerson snorts. “You’re my teammate, and there’s a big difference.”
I frown. “What the hell has gotten into you? You had a great time at team dinner last week. We even got through a meal without you wanting to strangle me, but the only times you’ve talked to me since have been on the ice.”
“I’m not surprised you think everything is about you.”
“Why are you so adamant about keeping me out?” I challenge. “Would being my friend really be the worst thing in the world?”
“Yes, it would be. You’re obnoxious, and you never know when to stop.”
“Wow.” I laugh and lace my fingers behind my head. “Tell me how you really feel, Hartwell.”
“I’ve been down this road. I know how being your friend ends, and I’m not putting myself in that position again. I’m glad you consider all of our teammates close pals, but I wish you would stop trying so hard to make me one of them.”
I drop my head against the seat and sigh. “Not every hockey player is a bad guy. Some of us have the team’s best interest at heart, and that includes everyone getting along.”
“And some of you don’t understand when to stop pushing,” she tosses back, and that stirs up something inside me.
“I’m not pushing you. I’m trying to figure out how to get my left winger to play better, because she missed three shots on goal in our last game, and I’d really fucking like it if she showed up when we needed her.” I huff out a breath. “Forgive me if I thought that by being nice to you, by being someone who tries to make you laugh and gets a half-hearted smile from time to time, it might fix that.”
Heat burns behind Emerson’s eyes when I look at her again. “You haven’t shown up either, Miller, and I don’t appreciate you throwing me under the bus. This is a team sport, and I’m not the only one out there fucking up.”
“Exactly. It’s a team sport, and here you are, not talking to me. Is that what you want, Hartwell? For me to ignore you? To not give you the time of day? To treat you like we’re strangers?”
“Why don’t you mind your business and I’ll mind mine?”
“Last I checked, my business as captain includes getting the team to play together, and if someone needs to step up, then I’m going to call them out on it.”
“Call yourself out, Miller. Stay in your lane and I’ll stay in mine.”
I roll my lips together.
It’s so obvious Emerson is dead set on keeping me at arm’s length. If I haven’t won her over yet, there’s not any hope for us, and I guess the only way forward is to wave the white flag.
“Fine.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m irritated. Pissed off and fucking tired of trying to convince her to think about me a certain way. If she wants to operate in her own little bubble, that’s on her. I’m done trying. “Sorry for bothering you.”
Her mouth opens like she wants to say something else, but she snaps it closed and leans her head against the window. “See you in Chicago.”