Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ELLIOT
You are never too old for firsts. At thirty-two, this is my very first time on an airplane.
I would like it noted for the record that while I enjoyed the complimentary apple juice and the salty little pretzels, there is far more shaking involved than I was led to believe.
As a result, I have decided I am not a fan.
Two out of ten stars. Would not recommend.
“It’s just a bit of turbulence,” Cal says calmly from the seat beside me.
And the fires of hell are just a warm bath with brimstone scented bubbles.
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, gripping the armrest like it’s the only thing keeping us airborne.
“I really appreciate you travelling with the team,” she adds, clearly attempting to distract me.
“Mm-hmm.”
Cal would not have asked me to fill in on the road unless she was desperate.
When Marty tested positive for Covid the same morning Luke’s wife went into early labour, she ran out of options fast. I had agreed before she even finished asking, partly because I owed her after the playoff tickets she got me without a single question, and partly because saying yes felt like the right thing to do.
I called Jane right away. She was more than happy to have Sam stay with her. The boys were thrilled about a multi-day sleepover.
And if I’m being honest, I was a little excited about getting away with Arthur. We have squeezed in time where we can over the last few weeks, but between work and Sam, it is not always easy. A few nights in a hotel. Palm trees. Warm air. It sounded perfect.
Right now, at thirty-eight thousand feet in the air, it feels less like a working vacation and more like a very polite funeral procession.
The plane shudders, and my stomach drops. My mind immediately leaps to Sam. I updated my simple will after Shawn left, mostly out of stubborn practicality. If anything happened to me, Sam would be looked after by my oldest friend, Amy.
Except that plan was made years ago, and Amy and her family now live in Montreal. My parents are out of the question—they moved to Costa Rica when I was still a teenager, and I haven’t spoken to them in years.
Maybe it’s time to rethink things. Maybe I need a better plan. A closer plan. A plan that doesn’t rely on cross-province logistics.
Then again, I would much prefer the option where I simply do not die.
That seems reasonable.
Everyone onboard is much quieter than I expected.
We’re seated near the back of the plane with the training staff, while the players and coaches are clustered closer to the front.
Most people seem to be sleeping or lost in their screens, headphones on, faces slack and peaceful.
Aside from the occasional cough or the soft rustle of someone shifting in their seat, the cabin is hushed.
The steady hum of the engines fills the space, a constant, almost soothing vibration.
Except when I remember how high up in the air we are.
A flight attendant appears in the aisle beside me. She has golden brown skin, kind eyes, and an air that makes me feel like everything might actually be fine. She smiles down at me, warm and reassuring.
“I heard this is your first time flying,” she says gently. “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
Cal’s head snaps toward me. “You didn’t tell me you’ve never flown before.”
I didn’t tell anyone. Except Arthur.
“I’m doing okay,” I say quickly, offering what I hope is a convincing smile. I don’t add that I am also silently cataloging my regrets, including the fact that I never recorded a heartfelt video telling my son how much I love him, just in case he somehow does not already know.
“Glad to hear it,” the flight attendant says. She holds out a can of ginger ale, which I accept gratefully. “If you start to feel a bit nauseous, take small sips. It usually helps. And I recommend chewing gum when we start our descent.”
She presses a small pack of spearmint gum into my hand.
“Thank you,” I whisper, genuinely moved. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’ll check in on you again before we land.”
She continues down the aisle, leaving me with cold ginger ale, minty gum, and a surprising amount of reassurance.
I am also left with the warm realization that somewhere on this jumbo jet, there is a prickly coach who should be thinking about tomorrow’s game but instead made sure someone was watching out for me.
I wish he were sitting beside me right now. Not that I don’t love Cal.
It’s just not her hand that I want to hold.
We land safely and without incident. The moment I step out of the air-conditioned airport, Florida hits me full force.
The heat wraps around me like a warm embrace.
Early May sunshine spills over the landscape, soft and golden and it sinks straight into my tired bones.
My shoulders loosen. My lungs feel fuller. My soul relaxes.
I barely have time to bask in it before we’re herded onto buses and whisked away toward the hotel. Palm trees line the road like a welcoming committee. The sky is an endless, smug blue that feels like it’s showing off.
After around thirty minutes the hotel comes into view.
It’s a gleaming white palace by the ocean, balconies and arched windows catching the sun. Fountains flank the entrance, and tall palms sway lazily in front.
Inside, the lobby smells faintly of citrus and flowers. Marble floors stretch beneath my feet, and sunlight streams through huge windows. This place is nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in.
Usually, training staff share rooms on away trips, but Cal insisted I have my own. She was probably relieved I’d agreed to come and sweetened the deal.
The moment I wheel my small suitcase into my room, I feel like a college kid away from home for the first time. The room is small, mostly taken up by a king-size bed. The bathroom is tiny too, with a stand-up shower and no bath. But honestly, I don’t need much more.
I take my time, walking around the room, opening drawers and nosing around. In the closet, I find an ironing board and iron, an extra pillow and a white terry cloth robe. I decide to slip the robe on over my clothes as the air conditioning is making the room a bit chilly. Freezing, actually.
I locate the thermostat on the wall and press a few buttons but nothing seems to happen. I make a note to check with the front desk about it later.
Since I’m here for three nights, I decide to unpack my suitcase. I’m hanging one of my black Otters training staff zip-ups in the closet when there’s a knock at the door.
I open expecting to find Cal coming to check on me and am pleasantly surprised to find a tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome head coach expertly filling out the doorway instead.
“I didn’t order room service,” I say with a smile I’m sure is dopier than a patient waking up from general anesthesia.
“I’m not room service,” he says, stepping in and closing the door behind him. I find myself being backed against the wall, his big body surrounding me. “I’ve come to your room to service you. There’s a difference.”
“Ah. How silly of me.”
He tilts my chin up as he bends to kiss me. It’s not rushed like the secret ones we’ve stolen in the treatment room, but it makes my heart pound and adrenaline flood through me all the same.
The kisses overlap, moments stretching into minutes. There are no obligations. No one is going to walk in on us. It’s just the two of us in this hotel room and it’s heaven.
He pulls away sooner than I’d like, but hovers closely over me. His long fingers stroke up and down my neck, erasing the last bit of tension from the day of travel.
“How was your flight?” he asks, studying my face.
I smirk up at him. “Weren’t you on the same one?”
“Yes.” His voice is a low rumble. “But I’ve been on dozens of flights this year alone and you’ve been on one your entire life. So I’ll ask you again. How was your flight?”
“It was fine, I think. A little bumpier than I would have liked, but I don’t have anything to compare it to.”
He nods, like I’ve just confirmed something he already suspected. “I was worried about you. During turbulence.”
“I was worried about me too. Mostly about dying in a fiery explosion. But we all survived. And I’m sure I’ll survive the next flight too. And then I won’t have to get on an airplane for another thirty years, give or take.”
He exhales a little laugh. “Thirty years, eh?”
I shrug. “Give or take.”
He pushes the hair away from my forehead. “So if I were to suggest a trip out west this summer?”
“Why would I go out west?”
He hesitates before continuing. “I have a place in Vancouver. I bought it after my first year in the league. It’s on a lake. It’s remote, but beautiful. I spend a lot of my off seasons there. My sister usually visits for a few days. I thought you might want to come out for a bit.”
“I…”
“It was just a thought,” he reassures me. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”
It’s not that at all. I do want to. So much. But I can’t help but worry that we might be taking things too fast. “What about Sam?”
He blinks down at me. “Well, he’d come too, of course. I figure we’d wait until school is out. Early July, maybe? The playoffs will be over by then.”
My heart swells with the knowledge that he’s taken my son into account. But as much as I want to throw myself into this plan, I find myself holding back.
Yes, Sam knows about Arthur and me. I should have known the most observant pre-teen on the planet would connect the dots.
And while I’m relieved that he’s okay with it—more than okay with it, it would seem—I can’t seem to silence that tiny voice in the back of my mind that warns me to proceed with caution.
Sam has been let down so many times before. We both have. I don’t want to start planning family vacations when there’s a chance that things won’t work out.
Everything is going so well with Arthur now. But who knows what things will look like in two months. Will his feelings have changed?