Chapter 11
eleven
Tweetie
Rowan’s got his phone out the minute we get on the train.
“We’re going to take this to New York, then we’re going to the airport. I don’t care what the fucking cost is,” he says.
“You do know it’s Christmastime, right?” Henry asks.
The two of them have been like the parents and Conor and I the kids on this trip, but those are our typical roles in our friendship.
We take our seats and, just like when we’re on the team’s plane, we sit across from one another—Henry and Rowan on one side, Conor and I on the other.
“Do they have a dining cart?” I ask, looking around.
Henry groans.
The sun is peeking over the horizon, but Chicago is an hour behind, so I’m sure Tedi is still asleep. Then again, she could be up with Addison. I want to talk to her, but I’ll wait a little longer just in case.
A little kid across the aisle is staring at all of us. I give him a smile and a nod, but he doesn’t smile back.
What the fuck?
Henry and Rowan come up with plans for what our next move will be. Conor has taken off his sweatshirt and is using it as a pillow, leaning his head against the glass.
The kid leans over and I do the same, thinking maybe he recognizes us and he’s just shy. I want him to know he can talk to me if he wants.
“My dad says you suck,” he whispers.
I look at his dad, who’s staring out the window. “Is that so?”
“Washed up,” he says. This kid can’t be more than ten years old I don’t think.
“Didn’t suck against Boston. Did you catch the game? I scored the winning goal in the third?” I arch an eyebrow.
Why am I talking smack to a ten-year-old?
“I don’t watch the Falcons.” His gaze lands on each of us. “We’re Fury fans.”
I nod. “Hate to break it to you, but they’re not bringing home the Cup this year.”
“You don’t know that. Aiden Drake is the best center in the league.”
“Excuse me?” Rowan tips his head to look at the kid.
“You think I’m washed up… you know Aiden is older than me, right?” I say.
He shrugs. “They’re a better first line.”
My annoyance grows.
Henry raises his eyebrows at me.
“You know what, kid? I’m gonna do you a solid just because I’m a nice guy, and it’s Christmas. I’ll be your Santa Claus today.” I pull out my phone and press Aiden’s number. Aiden answers since we’re in his time zone and the guy wakes up at ungodly hours to do his workouts.
“What’s up, Tweetie?” he says, catching his breath.
“I have a fan of yours here with me. Mind if I FaceTime you real quick?”
“Sure, where are you?” he asks, but I hang up and click on FaceTime, showing the kid my screen.
His eyes light up, and he hits his dad in the arm. Finally, his dad looks over and I give him a grin to say yeah, your kid just told me your opinion of me. Fucker.
I hand my phone to the kid, and Aiden does his thing—telling the kid to keep practicing and he’ll see him in the league someday.
Then he says the kid is lucky to have me on the train with him because I’m a great friend of his.
The kid hands me my phone back and I tell Aiden thanks, Merry Christmas, and I’ll call him later.
His dad nudges him, and the kid says, “Thank you. That was amazing.”
Rowan and Henry are smiling like proud parents. There were days when that would’ve thrown me into a tailspin for a bit.
“Us washed-up old-timers stick together.” I wink, and his dad’s face pales.
So I’m not a saint—yet.
A text comes in from Tedi.
Awake with Addison. I see you’re somewhere between Boston and New York?
Yeah. Rowan is trying to find us flights from New York, but it’s not looking good.
I’ll call the rental place.
Just wait until we get final confirmation. How’s our girl?
Hungry as always.
Just like her daddy.
Isn’t that the truth.
Neither one of us texts for a second and I wonder if she’s burping Addison now or still feeding.
She’s gone down for the time being. Changed, fed, and burped. Rinse and repeat. LOL
You go get some sleep, too.
I think I will. I’m not sure I can do late nights anymore. I’m officially old.
You’re officially a mother who has had no sleep for three months.
I hope you get a flight from New York. Text me no matter what. I want to know what’s going on.
I will. Sleep tight, baby.
You too. Sleep on the train while you can.
Will do. Love you.
Love you.
I pocket my phone and find that Rowan and Henry are still talking logistics.
“I think we fucked up, guys,” I say. “I fucked up. I got us into this mess.”
They shake their heads.
“We followed because we wanted exactly what you wanted—to be with our families. We’re going to make it home,” Rowan says.
“Definitely. We’ll get there,” Henry adds.
I love Aiden and my old teammates from Florida Fury, but I’ve never had friendships like this. Guys who really have my back no matter what.
Conor’s head lolls and lands on my shoulder, but I don’t push him off, just let him sleep.
I’m way too lucky a bastard to have the life I do, but hell if I’m giving any of it back.
Now, I need to get home to my girls.