Page 16 of Slew Foot (Scoring Chances #3)

As Rafe walked down the aisle of the plane the following morning about to leave on his first road trip with the Harriers, he was surprised to see none of the couples sat together.

Connor sat beside Graham Pennington rather than Jesse, who was toward the back with Tanner. Gavin was up front with the other head office people, while Dakota sat a little farther back with Leah Frye, the strength and conditioning coach.

Rafe had always sat with Logan. They’d sat together before they started dating. That was how he’d known the argument had been really bad.

Logan hadn’t sat with him anymore.

Rafe hesitated now, looking at the empty seat beside Mickey. He liked having company, but he didn’t want to bug anyone. And he did kinda take up a lot of space. Even in roomy seats like these.

But mostly he was worried because Mickey had been … weird last night.

Rafe shifted, planning to keep walking, but Mickey glanced up from his phone and frowned. “Where are you going?”

“You don’t mind me sitting here?”

“No.” Mickey looked him straight in the eye.

Hmm, Rafe thought as he settled next to Mickey, tossing his jacket in the overhead compartment, then dropping into the seat beside him. Because yeah, Mickey had definitely seemed off last night when Tanner suggested he move in. But maybe he’d read him wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Or the last, probably.

Rafe was glad. They were good seat mates. Mickey usually watched movies, read, or napped on flights and Rafe mostly watched movies and knitted, or played on his Switch.

Mickey shot him a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sorry if I was acting strange last night when Tanner invited you to move in.”

“No, it’s okay,” Rafe said, blinking because it was like Mickey had read his mind. “Honestly. I don’t want to, like … bug you or anything.”

Mickey tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, turning in his seat a little. “You’re not bugging me.”

“Are you sure?” Cause Rafe knew he wasn’t the brightest guy around, but it had kinda seemed like it.

“I’m sure.” Mickey cleared his throat. “I was surprised, you know? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But you should move in if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” Rafe said. He still felt like he was missing something but there were a lot of times he felt like he was missing something so what else was new? He’d been wrong about what he thought he was missing this time.

Also not new.

But if Mickey said he was okay with it, Rafe was going to believe him.

It would be smart if he checked out a few places in the area before he decided for sure but he already had a feeling he’d say yes.

Because living on his own back in Minneapolis had honestly kind of sucked and that was when Logan had been over all the time.

After the argument it had sucked even more.

And Rafe hated the hotel he was in now. Not that there was anything wrong with it.

The place was nice enough. But it was so quiet and there was no one to talk to or do anything with.

Waking up in the morning and seeing Mickey smile at him over his mug of coffee or spending every evening hanging out with Mickey and Tanner sounded way better.

Relieved, Rafe sat back in his seat and prepared for takeoff while Mickey did the same.

“Wanna watch a movie together?” Rafe asked hopefully after they’d reached cruising altitude.

Mickey gave him a soft smile. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

Rafe shrugged. “Whatever you want is good with me.”

“Okay.” Mickey got the movie set up on his laptop, then handed over one of his earbuds. Rafe stuck it in his ear, then grabbed his backpack. When he pulled out his knitting, he saw a look of surprise cross Mickey’s face.

“What?” Rafe asked. “Did you think I only did this in front of the TV or something?”

“No.” Mickey smiled at him. “Of course not. It’s—it’s cool.”

“You think so?” Rafe asked Mickey hopefully. He was pretty sure no one had ever called his knitting cool before.

Guys had said a lot of other stuff though.

“Being able to create something is very cool,” Mickey said firmly. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Okay.” Rafe ducked his head and hid a smile.

“Did you already finish the hat for your nephew?” Mickey asked, leaning in to inspect the scarf.

“Not yet. It’s kinda awkward to do on flights.”

“Makes sense.”

Rafe smiled down at the light purple mohair and silk blend yarn that was slowly being turned into a scarf for his aunt. It had a chevron lace pattern that looked complicated but was actually super easy now that he had the hang of it.

Rafe had taken knitting up after he’d broken his ankle early in his career and needed surgery.

His mom had come to stay with him for a few weeks while he recovered.

He’d had nothing to do and had been driving her crazy, so she’d finally thrust her spare knitting needles and other supplies at him and told him to learn it before she strangled him with the yarn.

Trying to learn on his own hadn’t gone well, so she’d sighed and sat down to explain it all.

At first, knitting had seemed like a whole other language and then he realized it was kinda like the plays his coaches drew up on a whiteboard. He was good at following instructions so after something had finally clicked and he got the hang of it, it became fun.

Long after his ankle was better, he kept knitting, the patterns getting more and more complicated. He found it relaxing and it gave him more to do on the plane, although he saved the three-or-four-needle projects like hats and socks for when he wasn’t traveling.

Now, Mickey hit Play on the movie—some music documentary that had come out recently, he’d said—and Rafe slipped the stitch holder off and set it on the tray table next to Mickey’s laptop.

They settled in, Rafe’s arm pressed against Mickey’s while he silently counted the stitches off, needles quietly clacking. It had been raining when they left Boston and after a frown at the gray clouds at cruising altitude, Mickey had pulled the shade closed.

Hopefully they wouldn’t end up in the middle of a storm again but for now it was peaceful, and everything was a little soft and hazy in the dim cabin except for the glow of the laptop screen.

Toward the back of the plane, Rafe could hear guys playing cards and the sound of Luke Crawford’s snores. It was familiar and comforting. The sound of a team. His new team.

The scarf got longer as they watched the movie, and Rafe liked the way Mickey’s body shook when he laughed and the way he’d turn his head to smile at Rafe sometimes.

They switched to a TV show after, an adult cartoon Mickey had never seen and Rafe didn’t mind rewatching from the beginning, and then the plane began to descend. Thankfully, it was a pretty smooth landing but Rafe grimaced as he stared out the plane door at the rain sheeting down.

With a shrug, he grabbed the strap of his backpack tighter and jogged down the steps to the tarmac.

He made a run for the bus that would take them to their hotel, his dress shoes slipping a little on the slick surface.

On the bus, he shook his head, spraying water everywhere and getting groans and shoves from the guys nearby.

Whoops.

He wasn’t sure where to sit on the bus either but thankfully Mickey was behind him, pressing his fingers against Rafe’s hip, steering him into a row about halfway back. Rafe sat next to the window and grinned at Mickey as he slid into the seat beside him.

His hair was all wet and he looked grumpy about it.

“Want to dry off on my shirt?” Rafe asked, pulling a cozy half-zip sweater from his bag and offering it to him.

“Thanks, but I’m okay.” Mickey shot him a small smile, brushing his dripping hair off his forehead. He had a raindrop hanging from the tip of his nose and it made Rafe smile back. He almost reached out and brushed it away before he realized that might be weird.

Sometimes Mickey reminded him of Logan.

Not like … for any particular reason. They were both blond and blue-eyed but they didn’t look alike in any other way. There was just something …

The bus’s brakes hissed, and they began to roll forward, so Rafe stuffed his sweater back in his bag and settled in for the ride to the hotel.

“You look nice by the way,” Mickey said a moment later, gesturing to his trousers and button-down.

“I am nice,” Rafe responded absently. It was a dumb joke their family had, and he expected Mickey to roll his eyes or something.

But Mickey bumped their shoulders together and said, “Yeah. You are.”

It was surprisingly sincere, and Rafe blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Yes, Rafe. I do.”

Rafe smiled happily because he honestly liked Mickey and thought he was nice too. Mickey—and Tanner—had been the nicest and most welcoming anyone had ever been when he joined a new team. Making friends already—ones he trusted, ones that he liked to hang out with—that was perfect .

Mickey was glued to his phone, so Rafe glanced around, listening to his teammates’ conversations. It all went quiet when Connor stood. He said something about a free afternoon, a team dinner after, optional movie night, and an early practice tomorrow.

Seemed pretty normal.

Coach Hoyt stood too. “I expect everyone to be back in their rooms at a decent time tonight and to get some sleep,” he said, bracing himself on the seats when the bus turned into the hotel drive.

A few guys groaned but Rafe was fine with it.

“We don’t usually have curfews, right?” he asked Mickey as the bus pulled up to the front door. Rafe was pretty sure they didn’t but occasionally coaches were hardasses who locked the team down.

One of his coaches in Juniors had liked to pull shit like that, to make guys believe he had the power.

He did other things too, like pick on guys when they fucked up and keep them out of the lineup if they questioned anything he said.

He was one of those old-school “gotta toughen them up” kind of coaches.