Page 27

CHAPTER 27

North

T he private tarmac lounge at the Pittsburgh Airport is buzzing with the usual preflight chaos—luggage being loaded, guys chatting in small groups, the faint roar of jet engines in the distance. Normally, this is one of my favorite parts of our road trips. There’s a sense of camaraderie, a shared purpose—the excitement building for another game and the chance to beat an opponent on their turf.

But today, I’m in a foul mood, and every noise grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

We’ll be boarding soon and for now, everyone huddles in small pockets drinking coffee and chatting. Rafferty’s leaning against the small café bar that caters to the private fliers, talking with Atlas and Foster. King is scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” Rafferty calls out as I approach, his voice casual but laced with concern. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” I mutter, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets .

“How you doing?” he asks as we step away from the group.

“Doing fine,” I say grumpily and with enough sarcasm he knows I’m not.

“Going to ask me how Farren is?” he prods.

“I assume she headed back to Calgary. That’s what she said she was going to do.”

Rafferty studies me thoughtfully. “You know, you’re not carrying off nonchalant very well. It’s okay to admit you’re upset about the way things went down.”

“Why would I be upset?” I glance around the lounge. When my eyes meet his, I shrug. “Your sister and I didn’t have anything all that deep. She wouldn’t ever let it get there so not much to be upset about.”

“Yeah, you’re full of shit,” Rafferty says. “And if it’s any consolation, Farren didn’t head to Calgary. She’s at my apartment.”

“So,” I reply, keeping my expression blank, although my heart leaps so violently, it hurts.

“So,” he drawls, his frustration evident, “she’s trying to figure her shit out.”

“Good for her.”

Rafferty narrows his eyes at me. “You’re just giving up on her?”

“She gave up on us,” I remind him.

“She was scared.” He steps closer, lowering his voice, but I hear overprotective brother mode activated. “She has reason to be, and you need to cut her a fucking break.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intend. “I don’t have anything else to offer her. She’s broken, Raff, and I’ve got no clue how to fix her.”

“She’s not broken, North. She’s just complicated.”

I huff out a bitter laugh. “You don’t break up with someone over a stupid joke. That’s not normal.”

Rafferty sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Agreed. And trust me, I’m not defending her. It’s bullshit. But it’s her bullshit to work through and I think she’s doing just that.”

“I’m all for giving her time. But the ball’s in her court now. No offense, Raff, but I’m not chasing your sister.”

“No offense taken,” Rafferty says with a dry smile. “Honestly, I’d rather you didn’t. She needs to stand on her own two feet for once. All I’m asking is that you don’t write her off. Not yet.”

The anger that’s been simmering since Friday night starts to ebb because I’d already written her off. After weeks of Farren refusing to allow me in, keeping me at a cool distance and then throwing it all away over something stupid I wasn’t even a part of… it didn’t seem possible that this was salvageable.

But two things stand out to me. Rafferty says she has reason to be scared and that’s not something I’d really considered. I mean, there was allusion to something in her past but without context, I didn’t think it was all that important.

Second, Rafferty is telling me not to write her off. That means he must have some belief that Farren wants this to work and fuck it all… that sparks a tiny flame of hope that I thought had been completely extinguished.

Admittedly, and only to myself, I was crushed when she walked away Friday night and said she was leaving.

Running, really.

I had dared to hope that I was different, and then I got a harsh dose of reality that clearly I wasn’t.

But Rafferty is saying maybe I am?

I drag my fingers through my hair. “Christ… I don’t know what to do.”

Rafferty claps me on my shoulder. “Just be patient with her. I don’t think this is over.”

Before I can reply, a blur of motion catches my eye and I turn to see Penn striding toward me with fury radiating off him like a heatwave. His eyes are locked on me and Rafferty takes an involuntary step back, which opens the door for Penn to push me hard. “You motherfucker,” he snarls.

I rock back two steps but don’t go down. I can’t retaliate either, because Rafferty is already there, in between us both with his hands outstretched, one palm planted on Penn’s sternum .

“You touch him again,” Rafferty growls, “and I’m going to lay you out.”

Atlas, King and Foster gather around us but Penn’s eyes never leave mine. “You gave her my address.”

I had been expecting this and I could easily deny it. I mean, I didn’t technically give it to her, but it seems like something’s broken loose. “She might have seen your address on my contacts when I left my phone unlocked on the table. But I didn’t give it to her.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he barks.

My patience snaps. I push against Rafferty but go nowhere, my voice rising. My own frustrations over this whole debacle with Farren send my emotions into overload and I take it out on my teammate. “Why are you so pissed, huh? What’s she to you? Why are you so desperate to keep her away? Why the fuck are you the way you are?”

Penn’s eyes narrow, and he slaps at Rafferty’s hand. “None of your fucking business. Stay out of it.”

“Like hell I will,” I fire back, pointing a finger at him, rage over this shit with Farren taking away every bit of reason. “You’ve been acting weird for months, and now some woman from your past shows up, and you lose your shit? That’s not normal, Penn.”

“North,” Rafferty warns, but I ignore him.

“Let’s lay it all out,” I press, my anger fueling me. “The fan that called you a traitor. McLendon going after you in that game. The teddy bear. And now this? McLendon played with you in juniors, didn’t he? Is this about that hazing incident where a teammate died?”

The words hang in the air like a bomb. The guys freeze, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. Penn’s face pales, and he looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he whispers, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.

“You heard me.” I step closer and lower my voice. “Is this about that kid? Is that why McLendon hates you? Is that why you’re acting like a goddamn hermit?”

Penn doesn’t answer. Instead, he surges forward so fast, Rafferty can’t stop him. He shoves me hard and I go flailing, but Atlas catches me before I hit the ground.

“Mind your own fucking business, North!” Penn roars, his voice echoing across the tarmac lounge. “Or so help me God, I will kill you.”

Rafferty chokes from the shock of that threat, but I wave it off.

I square my shoulders, meeting his glare head-on. “You think I haven’t tried? You’re my teammate, Penn. We care about you, but you’re making it real hard to have your back when you keep shutting us out.”

He doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and storms off toward the line forming to board the plane.

The silence he leaves behind is deafening.

“What the hell was that about?” Foster asks, breaking the tension.

I look around at my friends, only Atlas understanding the background of what just happened. I quickly fill them in on the mysterious woman named Mila and what happened at Mario’s after the Demons game.

“Do you think it’s true?” King asks, his voice low. “About the hazing thing?”

I shake my head, not in denial, but in confusion. “I don’t know. But if it is, it explains a hell of a lot.”

We stand there, the weight of the situation settling over us. Finally, King claps me on the back. “Come on. Let’s get on the plane. We’ve got a game to win.”

I nod, but as I follow them to the gangway, my mind is still racing. Whatever Penn’s hiding, it’s bigger than I thought. And if we’re going to help him, we need to figure it out before it’s too late.

“You,” I hear from my left and cringe as I recognize Callum Derringer’s voice.

I turn to see the Titans GM standing there, expression dark with anger. Clearly, he witnessed that altercation, but he’s approaching me and not Penn.

He makes a crooking motion with his finger and I get a sympathetic look from my buds before I head his way .

“What the hell was that?” he asks in a low voice delivered through gritted teeth. It gives me the impression he wants to yell but is containing himself.

This doesn’t bode well for me as Callum Derringer is about as cool, calm and collected as they come.

“Just some frustrations being played out,” I reply vaguely, not about to give Penn up. While I hoped to spur something from him by scratching open his past, I don’t want to get him in trouble. “Just know I deserved his anger, but it’s all good now.”

“Doesn’t look all good,” Callum retorts, glancing back at the line where Penn is waiting. Shoulders hunched, head down, anger still vibrating off him. When Callum’s eyes return to mine, they’re glacial. “He is our star player and while every man on this team is important, we cannot afford to have his head fucked with.”

“With all due respect,” I say quietly, “his head is already fucked and everyone knows it. Maybe it’s time for management to do an intervention with him.”

Callum blinks at me in surprise, his expression softening. “Is he in trouble?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t think so.” I glance back at Penn, disappearing from view. “I just think he’s haunted.”