Chapter 18 #2
I managed to smile back. That was again a conversation we’d had before, and he always seemed to know when I needed to hear it.
Not being able to fix something was frustrating, and sometimes I needed to hear that not everything was mine to fix.
One of these days, maybe that would stick.
In the meantime, I was grateful I had Dan to gently remind me.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I should let you go, though. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Any time. You know that.” He glanced at something off-camera before meeting my gaze again. “I should run—I have practice.”
“Me too. Buses leave soon for the airport.”
“Okay. Travel safe.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
After we ended the call, I closed my eyes and leaned against the headboard. I did need to leave soon, but a few minutes to get my mind back on the rails wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Dan was right about everything, and I knew it.
Still, the thought of waiving my no-move clause needled the back of my brain.
Maybe everything going on wasn’t my problem to fix, but that didn’t mean I needed to stick around and watch my teammates struggle.
Or watch one teammate in particular who might or might not have been self-destructing.
I wanted to be there for these men. Be a team player. Be a supporter while they tried to play through their grief. Be Avery’s teammate and linemate and not be a source of anger and frustration for him.
But I had to take care of myself, too. Watching him hurt like that—it hurt me. Sitting back and letting it happen, accepting that I couldn’t do anything to fix it or even help him…
Much more of that, and this team was going to have two players in uncontrollable downward spirals.
I hated admitting it. I hated thinking it.
But the truth was, if only to protect my own sanity…
Maybe I couldn’t stay on the Whiskey Rebels.
On the team’s charter jet, I stowed my carry-on and took my seat. Closing my eyes, I debated if I wanted to eat something once we were in the air. I’d barely touched my breakfast, and I wasn’t used to going this long without eating anything substantial.
As Dan had suggested, I studied my teammates’ vibes to see they handled things going forward. If they were acting like everything was normal on this flight, then maybe I could do the same, including unwinding my stomach so I could eat.
So far, the vibe was subdued but not overly tense.
I’d seen Avery chatting with Ziggy and Baddy on the bus as if nothing unusual had happened last night or this morning.
He and Eminem had been chirping about something on the way through the airport.
By the time we’d been about to board, I’d started to convince myself things were tilting in the direction of normal.
Right up until Avery and I had made eye contact across the airport lounge.
We’d locked eyes for all of a second or two, and in an instant, his expression had shifted. He’d been laughing at something Baddy had said, but his humor had vanished and he’d looked away from me.
I had no idea if he’d bounced back after that; I hadn’t dared look his direction.
Now that we were on the plane, I closed my eyes and listened to my teammates settling in all around me.
They were getting back into the usual groove of chirping, challenging each other to card or video games, and sneering over the awful officiating that had apparently happened in the Seattle-San Jose game last night.
Everyone on the plane sounded like things were back to normal.
Maybe I just needed to follow suit. I wasn’t sure how—last night prodded at me like a piece of gear pressing into a bruise—but if they were all moving on, then I needed to do the same. I needed to listen to my ex, listen to my teammates, get a goddamned grip, and—
“Mind if I sit there?”
My eyes flew open at the sound of Avery’s voice. I thought he must’ve been talking to someone else, but no, he was standing over me, a bag strap on his shoulder and an uncomfortable look on his face.
He wasn’t hostile. No anger in sight. If anything, he seemed a little sheepish.
“Uh.” I pulled my legs back. “Yeah. Sure. Do you want the window or the aisle?”
“Window is fine.” He slid in between me and the seats in front of us. Fortunately the charter jets had leg room like commercial business class, so it wasn’t a tight squeeze for him at all. After he was situated, he turned an uneasy look on me. “Let’s, um… Let’s wait until we’re in the air.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I nodded. I could read between the lines—he wanted to talk, but he wanted to wait until the noise of the plane gave us some relative privacy.
Thank God, we didn’t have to wait long. He’d been one of the last to board, and minutes later, we were taxiing. After takeoff, with the steady, familiar roar drowning out most of the conversations around us, he turned to me.
“Look,” he said. “I’m… sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah, it’s… It’s fine.” I shrugged. “It happens.”
“It shouldn’t, though,” he said quietly. “I bit your head off over nothing. I’m sorry about that.”
I wasn’t convinced. That he was genuinely apologizing, yes, but that it was nothing? Not so much.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Are you… Are you good, though?” That seemed like a stupid question, because no matter how much he tried to pretend he was good… he wasn’t. He absolutely fucking wasn’t. I just didn’t know how else to press the issue without setting him off.
He avoided my gaze. “Like I said, it was a bad night.”
“Last night isn’t what I’m worried about,” I whispered. “It’s… There’s also that other night. In Detroit.”
Avery’s jaw worked.
“I’m not being judgy, okay?” I said even more quietly. “I may be new to the team, but I can still support my teammates, you know?” I took a breath. “If there’s something you—”
“I’m good.” He said it firmly, but he didn’t quite snap, and then he turned dog-tired eyes on me. “Look, last night was a bad night. Detroit… same thing. I’ve been fine the rest of the time, though, you know?”
I pressed my lips together. Oh, he gave the appearance of being fine most of the time. Well, some of the time. Put him on the ice, and he was almost good as new.
I didn’t know if anyone else could see what I did. Ever since that night I’d half-carried him out of the bar, though, the cracks had been impossible to miss. I wanted to believe him that those two nights were flukes, but I couldn’t lie to him. I couldn’t lie to myself.
Apparently seeing the uneasy skepticism in my expression, Avery sighed.
Voice quieter—almost pleading now—he said, “Last night and in Detroit—I’ll be the first to admit I fucked up, and I got fucked up, and…
” He waved a hand, then let it drop into his lap.
“I own it, okay? But it won’t happen again. I promise.”
I wanted to push. We both knew there was more going on than those two nights. Right? Or was I seeing something that wasn’t there because of what I’d missed in the past?
I couldn’t say. What I did know was that if there was a problem, and if I wanted to help him—truly be the support he needed—then I needed to take my cues from him. Not from my past or my assumptions. Avery wasn’t my mom, and he wasn’t Richards.
Getting us back on the rails as teammates was a start. After that, I could keep an eye on him and see where things went.
So, I nodded. “Okay. We’re good.”
Avery studied me uncertainly, then let a small smile crack through.
“Okay. Okay, good.” For as much as he’d been trying to bullshit me and everyone else that he was all right, the relief in that moment did seem genuine.
As if he’d really been upset about his behavior last night and the way things had been off kilter between us.
A metallic rattle pulled my attention to the front of the plane, and I realized the flight attendants were starting to bring food and beverages to our teammates. I gestured at them and asked Avery, “Should we get something to eat?”
He glanced in the same direction, then nodded. “Yeah. We should. I, um…” He laughed a little sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Kind of didn’t eat much this morning.”
The words “same here” stopped at the tip of my tongue. I didn’t need to give him another reason to beat himself up. Instead, I went with, “I wasn’t impressed with that hotel’s eggs. You’d think they a swanky hotel could do better than a plane.”
Avery’s laugh was tired but real, and I pretended my pulse didn’t skyrocket at the sight of him not just smiling, but relaxing. He nodded toward the flight attendants. “To be fair, charter jet food isn’t exactly the same slop they serve in coach.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said, chuckling.
When the flight attendants reached us, we both ordered breakfast. One of them asked Avery what he wanted to drink, and he started to respond, but hesitated. His eyes flicked toward me, and then he cleared his throat and asked for orange juice.
My heart sank.
He wanted a drink, didn’t he? A stiff one? But he wasn’t going to order it now. Not in front of me, not after the conversation we’d just had.
So what’s going to happen when you’re alone?
Because that was the other side of my worries about him. It wasn’t just that he’d had too much to drink at the bar last night and in Detroit.
You’re going to be careful around us.
But what’s happening behind closed doors?
I let that go for now, though. He obviously wanted to smooth things over between us, and so did I. If I started pointing out the signs he wasn’t hiding very well, he’d just started hiding them better, and things would get tense between us again.