Page 20

Chapter 20

Crosby

T he jet’s engines are a dull purr in the background, a soothing melody to relax and fall asleep to. The flight back to Connecticut from our away game in Utah at the end of November is long enough to try and catch a few hours of shut-eye, and I close my eyes, attempting to do just that. Biggest perk of flying private is being surrounded by a collection of people who feel the same way.

“They ran out of Sprite. And I like Dana—she’s a great flight attendant, always takes care of me—but she’s never going to convince me 7Up is a decent substitute.”

A collection of people that doesn’t include my best friend.

I open one eye to look at Gus as he settles into the seat next to me, mild disgust showing on his face as he slurps the can of soda.

“Why are you drinking it if you don’t like it?” I ask, readjusting since I know sleep is unlikely now that Gus is next to me. I love the guy, but he can’t sleep on flights. It usually isn’t a problem, I like keeping him company; it’s how we became friends.

At the start of the season, we pick an old television series on Netflix and work our way through seasons on away trips, plowing through episodes and finding ourselves way too invested in what we watch. Two years ago, we became McDreamy fans, even if we both agreed that Meredith’s soulmate is Christina. And last year, we stopped speaking to each other for a few days when Gus insisted that Lucas and Peyton were a better endgame than the perfection that is Peyton and Jake.

“You know I get a tummy ache if I don’t have it, and it’s better than that ginger ale shit,” Gus rubs at his stomach. Soda can in one hand, he pulls his tablet out from under the seat. I reach over to take the drink, saving us the possibility of a spill as Gus gets the next episode of Gossip Girl loaded. “You know, I think Jenny might be behind the Gossip Girl blog.”

“No way,” I say, handing him back his soda as Netflix comes up. “She’s a ladder climber, for sure, but she gets equally as burned by the ‘XOXOs.’ My money’s on Chuck.”

“That guy has everything—including Blair—what could he possibly gain?” Gus has abandoned hitting play to turn to me, shock on his face.

“I think Chuck is constantly seeking approval. He’s not motivated by sex or greed, he just wants recognition. This could be a really twisted way to get it.” I shrug. “I wouldn’t put it past him to manipulate all of these situations so he benefits, even if it means hurting his ‘friends.’”

“That’s actually a good theory.” Gus drinks from the can, thinking about what I said. “Damn. A guy like that in real life would piss me off. Did you think of that yourself? Lately, I can’t tell if you’re even paying attention to the show.” He gestures to the phone on my tray table. “You already text Vi?”

“I pay attention!” I look at my best friend. His face is relaxed, but there’s a bit of sadness lingering in the corner of his eyes, and guilt nudges my gut. I tuck my phone in my pocket. “Hey, I’m sorry,” I offer, hands up in supplication. “I know I’ve been more involved with Violet, and I haven’t been the best friend.”

“You’re always my best friend,” Gus deflects, pushing out a hollow laugh behind his words as he looks away from me. I nudge his elbow, and he sobers before giving me a thin smile. “I get it. Vi is amazing. She’s made doing all the social media stuff bearable. She’s beautiful and kind, and I can see she means a lot to you.”

“She really does.” I want to tell him I’ve fallen hard and fast for her, but I can tell by the warmth in his words and the silent nod he gives me, Gus already knows.

“It’s crazy she’s Coach’s daughter, though.” Gus blows a breath out, a quiet whistle escaping. “I know everyone around here knows and probably suspects that you two are a thing, but do you worry about what will happen when that information officially leaves The Midnight family?”

“I’m not sure,” I consider the question. I think about how careful Violet and I are at the office and practice facility; professional whenever there are eyes around but playful and passionate if we know we’re alone. She’s quietly steered us that way, trying to stay away from attention that doesn’t pertain to her work. I’ve followed her direction, honestly thankful for the focus it has allowed me to keep on the ice and the distance it has created from unwelcome questions in the media. “Violet’s last relationship ended when she found out he was only dating her to get close to Coach and hopefully land a try-out.”

“Ahlman, right?” Gus asks, and I nod. “Wish I had known about that before we played the Portland game. I would have been happy to sit in the box for a chance to mess with him. How did that even happen?”

“Violet’s existence hasn’t been a secret her whole life,” I start, working through the information Violet shared with me. “Coach didn’t want to deny he had a child. I think he just preferred to keep her safe from any scavenging media trying to make a sensation out of a private decision. Things didn’t work out between Coach and Violet’s mom, but I don’t think it was an ugly parting of ways. Just two people who wanted really different things. Protecting Violet from the media that became invested in Coach’s career seemed to work for the most part.

“Violet started college when Coach came back to the team, so no reporter thought to ask about her then. He wanted her focused on school, so he never asked her to come home on breaks. He visited her for school breaks when the season allowed. She thinks it was during one of those visits to her school in London that Ahlman’s agent saw them on campus together. He would have been there to discuss setting up the internship, witnessed Violet and Coach together, and went digging.”

“That’s so fucked up.” Gus curls a lip in distaste. I agree with him. He taps a finger on the rim of the can. “You don’t think people are going to think those things when you go public, right?”

“I don’t see why they would,” I consider.

“Just because the public is chronically online doesn’t mean they like to Google any information for themselves. Just open Threads or X and you’ll know what I mean.” Gus shudders, and I laugh. “I just worry someone might get the wrong idea of you being on first line when they finally catch sight of Violet giving you heart eyes in a photo.”

“She does not give me ‘heart eyes.’” I glare. It’s Gus’ turn to laugh before finishing his soda in one big swallow.

“You’re right. That’s you.”

“Damn, man,” I grumble, making to pull my phone back out and ignore his good-natured teasing.

“It’s not that serious.” Gus bumps me with his shoulder, changing topics. “She’s coming with you for Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “After that, she’s agreed to be more public with our relationship—outside of working hours, of course.”

“Of course.”

“What about you? Who are you bringing to the party this year?” I ask. Gus’ dates for team-sponsored events have always proven to be an unmatched source of entertainment in years past. How he finds someone who is so completely wrong for him is impressive. One year, he spent the evening telling me he couldn’t figure out where he knew his date from. During dessert, he practically choked when the older, pretty blonde dropped the bombshell of being his eighth-grade student teacher.

“Think I might skip the date this year.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Making it a guys’ night with Obie and Bones.”

“Cool.” I smile. “That’ll be good. I’m glad everyone will be there this year. I know having the first game back from the holiday sucks, but it means we get to celebrate together.”

Gus squeezes my shoulder. Then, he flicks his head toward the tablet, paused and waiting.

“All right.” I rub my hands together. “Let’s find out who the fuck Georgina Sparks is.”