Chapter 3
Grady
“I’ve never been on a private jet before!” Angela squeals as she flips her long blonde hair over both shoulders and turns to me. “Do I look okay? Private plane worthy?”
I fight the urge to shrug. Because honestly, how the fuck do I know? But I give her outfit a quick once-over and nod with confidence. “Angela, you look great.”
Her cheeks pink from the compliment and the excitement, I’m sure. “Thank you.”
The flight attendant approaches and gives us a friendly smile. “Right this way. We’re ready for boarding.”
Angela pushes her shoulders back and marches toward the glass doors that lead to the small tarmac at the private Long Beach airport. “Landon is still in the bathroom.”
I point toward the oak doors in the small, private waiting area… or terminal, or whatever the hell you call it when it’s for a private jet. The guy nods, and Angela sighs so loud I can hear it from over here. “He’ll find his way. I want to make a reel while the light is good.”
“I’ll wait for him,” I say, and the flight attendant nods.
“I’ll get Miss Webb settled and come back in a moment.”
He rushes to pull open the door for Angela as she fiddles with her phone. She heads, swinging her hips and grinning like she won the lottery. Before the door swooshes closed behind her and the flight attendant, I hear her ask him if he could film her.
I chuckle to myself.
“What’s so funny?”
I glance over my shoulder, and there’s Landon. He’s staring at me with those bright, intelligent blue eyes, and he’s wiping his hands on the sides of his dark blue pants. “Where’s Angie?”
He sounds instantly and completely panicked, and those eyes I love start darting around the small room. I reach out and grab his shoulder, giving it a gentle, friendly squeeze. “Relax, she already boarded.”
“She’s on the plane.” I can feel the tension dissipate under my palm, still on his shoulder. “Okay. Great.”
“You thought she would bail? Like a runaway bride or something?” I ask, half joking as I remove my hand from his shoulder. I realize this isn’t a laughing matter when he doesn’t even crack a smile.
“She totally lost it when the trade was announced,” Landon explains, lowering his voice to a whisper. “She doesn’t want to leave Los Angeles.”
“She is downright giddy about the plane ride,” I assure him. “She had the flight attendant help her make a reel.”
“Really?’ Landon blinks. He looks relieved.
The flight attendant reappears, holding open the door and motioning at us. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” I nod and follow Landon out the door.
I take a deep breath of California air for the last time, at least until we’re on a road trip back here.
The air is gritty and warm, but there’s always something enjoyable in it, like jasmine or salt from the ocean.
I’m gonna miss it. Los Angeles has been my favorite place to live so far. And my favorite team.
“She was really upset. I’ve never seen her that upset,” Landon tells me as we walk across the pavement to the stairs that lead to the jet. “Even when I had cancer, she was… I mean, she cried, but she was strong. Determined. But the trade had her… despondent. It freaked me out.”
“I think the jet has quelled some of her sadness,” I promise him as I climb the stairs and step into the private plane.
I’ve never been in one of these either, just like Angela.
There’s plush seating and a mahogany bar, and even what looks like a king-size bed at the back of the plane.
Clearly, it’s a lot for Landon too, because he stutter-steps, causing my front to smack into his back.
The brief full-body contact makes a shimmer of electricity shoot through me.
His body is warm and hard, and he’s the perfect height for me, about six-one-ish, I’d guess.
Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have to guess; it has his height listed as six-one on the official hockey website, and yeah, I looked.
Six foot one and a hundred and ninety-one pounds.
His cheat meal is a fried chicken sandwich with pickles, radish, and Calabrian chili mayo.
His dirty secret is that he actually likes romcoms. Did I memorize his bio on the Quake site? Maybe.
“This plane is insane,” he remarks.
“It’s his nicest one,” the flight attendant replies.
“He has more than one?”
“Yeah, he has one for the team too, but it’s more… basic.” The flight attendant shrugs. “This is his personal plane.”
He’s referring to one of the Riptide owners. I don’t know which one. Both are local tech bros who invented an app and made millions. I’ve never met the team owners, but I have a feeling I’ll meet these two because they’re big fans of my family’s hockey legacy.
“Landy, can you take my pic? You always get my best angle,” Angela announces as she holds her phone out to her boyfriend and lifts a champagne flute with her other hand.
Landon blocks the aisle to get a couple of shots, and I wait patiently.
They’re cute together. Have been since I met her, his third game back after his cancer.
When he’s done, Landon hands her phone back and sits across from her in one of the plush swivel chairs, and I sit in one across the aisle from the two of them.
The flight attendant brings two more champagne flutes and fills them. “Can I also get a water, please?”
“Not a problem. I’ll bring a carafe once we’re in the air. Please, everyone, buckle up. We’ll be pushing back imminently.” He disappears to the kitchen area by the cockpit, where I also saw a seat for him.
“This is wild,” Landon remarks. “Our new owners are rich.”
“Our last owners were rich too and got richer thanks to us,” I remind him.
“And they never even got us a jet,” Landon jokes, and our eyes lock. His eyes are a shade of blue I’ve never seen. They’re inky with a bright, light ring around the outer edge. My God, I have it bad.
I shift in my seat and move my gaze to Angela, who is gulping back her champagne pretty quickly. Her glass is already three-quarters empty. “Angie, you’re gonna love Maine. It’s the perfect time to be going too because it’s still warm and the leaves are about to change.”
“Mmm hmm. Well, they do seem to have a strong fanbase. I’ve gained almost four hundred new followers overnight,” Angela says and finishes her champagne.
“Angie is one of those WAGs who embraces the attention,” Landon says quietly.
“WAG makes us sound like dogs,” Angie whines. “Is it so hard to say wife or girlfriend?”
She isn’t smiling, but she isn’t frowning either. She puts down her empty glass and points to the one the attendant filled for Landon. “You’re not drinking that, right?”
He shakes his head, so she lifts the glass off the table. “Cheers to new beginnings, I guess.”
She tips the glass toward me, so I grab my flute off the small table in front of me and lean forward to clink it to hers. “To coming home.”
“Right!” She nods and takes a long, big sip. After she swallows, she continues. “You’re a hometown boy. Why don’t you live at home then? Not that I mind you in the cottage with us. It’s big enough and we love us some Grady, don’t we, Landon?”
“We do love us some Grady,” Landon says and gives me a smirk. He lowers his voice, but he’s loud enough that Angela can still hear him. “Someone is getting tipsy.”
She swats at him but takes another long gulp.
I chuckle and take a sip. I’m not actually a fan of champagne.
I only drink it if it’s out of a Cup named Stanley.
I put down my glass. “Silver Bay is two hours inland from Portland, so the commute would be hell. Besides, I don’t actually have my own place there.
I still squat at my parents’, or one of my cousins places when I go home. In the summers, I rent Air BnBs.”
She looks positively gobsmacked at that fact. “You don’t have your own house? How old are you?”
“Angie, that sounds bitchy,” Landon warns.
She lifts a hand to her open mouth and her cheeks pinken. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way. I moved out at eighteen, so I’m just… It’s shocking to me. Sorry.”
I shrug. “Not offended. I guess I figured I would get my own place when I retire. Silver Bay feels more like a vacation spot than home right now, and I want to be settled when I finally put down roots there. If I put down roots there.”
“You’re gonna need roots somewhere eventually,” Angela advises as the plane starts to move down the tarmac to the runway. “I mean, when you finally settle down and get married and stuff. Your wife will want a home.”
“Or three,” Landon mutters under his breath, the light gone from his eyes. I pretend not to notice. Angela finishes the second flute of champagne as the front of the plane lifts into the air. My ears start to pop. “So how old are you again?”
“Twenty-Nine.”
“So you’re like midway through your career?”
“As a goalie, I think I can honestly say I’m on the back end.
” I hate saying it aloud, but it’s probably true.
My hips are stiffer and stiffer each year.
I had a hot season last season, but there are no guarantees it’ll ever happen again.
I think, if I’m lucky, I’ll make it to thirty-three in this league.
“And you’re still single? All this time?” Angela looks stunned again.
I nod, but before I can pull from my Rolodex of excuses, Landon speaks. “There are a ton of people who don’t meet their soulmates in their twenties. Your sister Julie is still single at thirty-three.”
“Not by choice!” Angela says and then… oh fuck…. Her eyes flare. “What’s your type, Grady? Do you like older women? Please do not be one of those pervs who date the nineteen-year-old puck bunnies. And by date, I mean fuck.”
Landon groans. “Angie, you’re being invasive. And FYI, I have never seen Grady with a puck bunny, of any age.”
“Are you going to drink the rest of that?” Angie asks, pointing to my drink. I shake my head. She hesitates but takes it. “I should probably make you drink this so you’ll open up. But… I need it.”
She takes a big sip. “So, what’s your type?”
“Likes to laugh, doesn’t take life too seriously,” I find myself saying. “But I have a strong sense of self and confidence because my family is a lot to handle. I’ve been told I can be a lot to handle, too.”
Landon’s eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at me. “By who?”
I smile. “I have had relationships, Landon. Just not any since I joined the Quake.”
“Build your perfect physical specimen,” Angela demands and waves a hand at me. “Be superficial, I won’t judge.”
Another question which would be easy if I was allowed to be honest, but I’m not. Luckily, I’m used to thinking quickly. “On the taller side because I’m—”
“A fucking giant,” Landon interjects, and I flip him a quick middle finger, which makes him laugh.
“Continue!” Angela urges as the plane levels off. “Light or dark hair? Boob or ass man?”
“Not fussed with hair color. I do like light eyes,” I say and feel oddly seen. “Definitely an ass man.”
But more of a dick man than a boob or ass man…. I snark to myself.
The flight attendant appears and tries to refill all our glasses, but Landon shakes his head.
I let him fill mine because Angie will probably want it.
She smiles and thanks him. He informs us we’re free to move around the cabin and that there’s a stocked pantry and mini bar that we can help ourselves to while he prepares a warm kale salad with salmon and risotto for our main meal.
“Sounds amazing. You are amazing!” Angie gushes, and I bite back a laugh.
He smiles, and Landon laughs sheepishly. “She’s… enthusiastic when she drinks.”
“I’m here for it,” he says and then disappears again.
Angie unbuckles her seat belt and wanders around, looking out the windows. “So, Grady… do you get lonely?”
“Not really. I have too big a family. If I’m bored or feeling down or whatever, I can always reach one of them,” I explain, and she looks like she doesn’t buy it.
“Yeah. Okay. There are, like, a hundred of you, so I get that, but I mean… lonely for contact. For connection in a way that’s illegal with blood relatives.
” She wiggles her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and neither Landon or I can contain our laughter.
She laughs, too, and grabs her champagne off the table.
“Seriously, if you don’t fuck puck bunnies and you haven’t had a relationship in over a year, you’ve got to be lonely.
I mean, there’s only so much satisfaction you can give yourself, I’m guessing. ”
“Angie. Again, too invasive.”
But I’m suddenly invested in this conversation. Something she said has snagged every molecule in my brain. “You’re guessing?”
“Yep.” Angela gives me a little self-conscious shrug. “I’ve never bothered to masturbate.”
“Angie!” Landon basically gasps her name.
“Okay, not true. I’ve masturbated for videos I send him on road trips,” Angela says. “Well, I used to anyway.”
Wow. This flight is not going the way I thought it would. It’s way more interesting.