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twenty-seven

CAROLINE

Toronto, ON, CA

I don’t know what started first. The deep ache in my stomach. The tightness in my throat. The heat in my cheeks. But I’ve been dreading this flight back to Austin all morning.

The only thing keeping me going is knowing it’s the last bit of space I’ll have before I’m stuck alone with Rhett again.

At least the plane gives me a built-in buffer—and an excuse to throw on headphones and ignore him completely. I meant what I said at the end of our fight last night, and I intend to stick to it. He won’t be hearing my voice anytime soon.

I managed to avoid Rhett all morning, but now that we’re back in close quarters with everyone else, continuing to avoid him would only draw suspicion. And as much as I’d rather sit on the wing of the plane right now, sitting beside him is what people expect.

I take a steadying breath as I climb the stairs to the plane, bracing for him to already be seated, watching the door for me, ready to put on a show.

But when I step onto the plane, I spot him off to the left, tucked near the flight attendants, mid-conversation with one of the assistant coaches. They’re both waiting for the bathroom.

I don’t know what it is about the back of his head that sets me off, but before I know it, I’m speed-walking right past him.

I spot his bag a few rows in, but I pretend I don’t see it and keep going.

My pace only slows once I’m near the back of the plane, far enough away that it would take effort— intentional effort—for him to come sit beside me.

Let him make the walk if he cares that much.

I slide into a window seat, glancing back just in time to catch him shift like he sensed me pass. His head turns.

He spots me instantly. It’s obvious by the way his shoulders go rigid and his brows pull together as he continues listening to the coach.

Our eyes don’t quite meet, but then—he presses his lips into a flat line and turns his back.

I blink.

That’s it?

He’s not coming?

A sharp breath escapes me. “Well, fuck you too,” I mutter, ducking into the seat and crossing my arms.

I stare ahead, simmering. At Rhett for how he’s acted over this entire trip. At myself for giving a shit. At the world for what my life has become.

“You know, if I’m not supposed to be breathing in your direction, you probably shouldn’t sit right next to me.”

My head snaps to the left, and I find Mick sitting across the aisle.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t talk to me,” I shoot back. “But if you can’t control yourself, maybe you should move. ”

“If anyone here lacks willpower, Barrett, it’s you.”

I flinch—and I hate that he sees it. But that line is the final straw. I bite my lip hard, trying to hold in the emotion swelling in my throat—and to stop myself from blurting out the truth about me and Rhett. One more jab from Mick and it might all come spilling out.

I face forward, letting silence settle between us. Minutes pass. The captain comes over the speaker to announce takeoff. I fasten my seatbelt but otherwise remain still as the plane lifts into the sky.

I’m almost starting to relax when I hear Mick again.

“Hey,” he says, so softly I’m forced to look at him. “I didn’t mean that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yes, you did.”

He blinks, then shrugs. “Okay, I did. But I didn’t need to say it. So yeah… sorry for just… being a dick, I guess.”

“I appreciate that… I guess.”

We stare ahead, like we’re both silently agreeing to pretend this civil exchange never happened. But just before the moment passes, I crack the door back open.

“Why are you?” I ask. “A dick? To me, specifically?”

“You haven’t exactly been warm to me either.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry for that too. But we’re not in school anymore. We can be honest—especially if we’re stuck around each other.”

Mick glances over. “If I’m being completely honest… you’re a little fucking intimidating.”

I tilt my head.

He shifts uncomfortably. After a beat, he asks, “Where’s your guard dog, anyways?”

“Why? Are you scared?”

“I think I’d be an idiot not to be.”

He’s right .

“Up front.” I wave my hand. “Team bonding.”

“Guess he deserves it. That was a great game.”

“It always is,” I say. “You know, there hasn’t been more than a two-goal deficit in the final score of a game between Texas and Toronto in a decade.”

“Really?”

I nod, then find myself adding, “Not since Rhett joined the Storm.”

“Wow,” Mick says. “That’s a cool stat.”

“You should bring that up next time we play them,” I tell him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “ You should.”

I raise my brows.

“I’ll learn some of my own by then.”

Something passes between us. Something that feels dangerously close to camaraderie.

Mick looks away for a moment, then back at me.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, voice low, “you were always the one who knew her shit. Even back then.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I know.”

He chuckles under his breath.

“Thanks, Mick.”

He nods—a quiet acknowledgment. We sit in silence for a moment.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you and Sutton end up?—”

His question cuts off when the plane suddenly dips. My stomach lurches. The aircraft shudders violently, then rights itself—just in time for a blinding flash of white light to split across the windows, followed by a deep rumble that rattles the overhead bins.

I gasp, sharp and panicked, and fumble for my window shade. My hands tremble as I manage to open it—revealing an angry gray sky. Another lightning bolt cracks so close I swear I can feel it.

The captain’s voice crackles over the speaker.

“Hey everyone, we’re hitting some pretty bad weather here. Heavy thunderstorms are coming in from the south, so it’s going to take us a bit to get through. It’s gonna get bumpy, so please stay in your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and try to relax.”

Try to relax.

The captain might as well have asked me to fly the damn plane.

I shove the window shade down and press my palms to my thighs, dragging my hands over the fabric of my leggings in a feeble attempt to calm myself. Instead, I dig my nails into my skin as more turbulence shakes the plane.

A high-pitched ding sounds as the seatbelt sign flashes overhead. But with my heart pounding so hard I feel like it might crack a rib, the idea of being restrained sends panic surging through me. I do the opposite of what the captain advises.

With trembling fingers, I unbuckle my seatbelt and bolt upright.

I don’t remember deciding to move—just that suddenly, I’m halfway down the aisle toward the back of the plane.

I vaguely register Mick asking if I’m okay, but I can’t respond.

My vision blurs and my knees wobble as I brace myself on the aisle seats, making my way past five empty rows.

Somehow, I make it to the bathroom, nearly falling inside before I slam the door and slide the lock. I think my plan was to shut out the storm, to pretend it didn’t exist if I couldn’t see it through the windows. But in here, the fear only sharpens.

I may not be able to see the storm, but I can feel every jerk, drop, and sway of the plane echoing in my bones. The hiss of wind, the groan of metal, the deep rumble beneath us—it’s all louder in this tiny space. My pulse spikes.

I brace myself against the sink, head tipped back, gasping for air. But when the plane lurches again, I fold in on myself, covering my head with my hands. The sounds blur into a steady whine of white noise. Dizziness begins to take me over just as three knocks cut through the chaos.

At first, I think it’s something rattling in a storage bin, but the knock comes again.

“It’s t–taken,” I manage to croak, pulling my sweater collar over my face and breathing hard.

“It’s me.”

Even through my trembling, my body goes still.

“Are you okay?”

The plane bumps hard again. I can’t speak.

Another knock. “Cub, let me in.”

I can’t think straight. Can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t respond. But when Rhett adds a quiet, “Please?” my hand shoots out on instinct, unlatching the door just enough to let it slide open.

I stumble back as it does—but Rhett doesn’t hesitate. He slips inside and shuts the door behind him in one quick motion.

“Cub?”

“H–hi,” I gasp, tugging my sweater down just enough to see him. “I–I can’t?—”

The plane sways hard, nearly toppling me, but Rhett catches the counter, planting one arm on either side of me and steadying us both.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, cupping my cheek. “I know. It’s okay, Baby Bear. You’re okay.”

“W–we are literally inside of a f–fucking storm,” I stammer.

“And we’re gonna get through it,” he says, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone.

“How can you know that?” I whisper, meeting his eyes.

A flicker of a smirk crosses his face. “Well, in case you forgot… I’m kind of the captain of the Storm. ”

I roll my eyes. “Can you not?—”

A deafening boom cuts me off, followed by a jolt that sends us both stumbling. Rhett reacts instantly, grabbing me before I can fall and lifting me onto the bathroom counter.

It’s barely a foot deep, and there’s no room to move. I’m forced to spread my legs just enough to brace against the wall behind him, knees knocking against the door and the back wall as I try to steady myself. A small sob breaks free, and tears blur my vision.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Rhett’s hands are on my face now, checking me over. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, and when I see the panic tightening his features, I choke out, “I’m not hurt. I’m just…” Another bounce sends my hands fisting the front of his shirt. “I’m so fucking scared.”

“Hey—hey, look at me,” he says firmly. “Dammit, Cub—open those beautiful blue eyes.”

Only then do I realize they’re shut tight. I force them open with a slow, shaking breath.

“There they are,” he whispers, giving me the softest smile before sobering again. “Now talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I–I can’t breathe?—”

Right on cue, the plane nosedives.