Page 34 of Speak in Fever
A few rows ahead, Rath catches glimpses of Percy talking quietly with Coach about something that looks serious and tactical. Even from behind, Percy's body language radiates the kind of focused authority that makes him such an effective captain—leaning in to listen, making notes in his precise handwriting, asking questions that show he's thinking three moves ahead.
Rath tries to focus on the footage JP is showing him, but part of his attention keeps drifting to Percy's voice, to the familiar rhythm of his speech patterns when he's in full captain mode. It's professional, analytical, exactly the kind of leadership that makes their team successful. But Rath can't help remembering how different Percy's voice sounded during that phone call—rougher, more intimate, saying things that Rath had been dying to hear.
"Earth to Rath," JP says, following his gaze. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just..." Rath searches for a believable explanation that doesn't involve admitting he was staring at their captain. "Wondering what they're discussing."
"Probably line combinations for tomorrow's game," JP says casually, but there's something knowing in his tone that makes Rath wonder how transparent his interest in Percy has become. "Speaking of which, you ready for your increased role?"
The question catches Rath slightly off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, man. Word is you're moving up to first power play unit, getting more minutes at even strength." JP grins, and there's genuine excitement in his expression. "Coach doesn't make those kinds of changes unless someone's been advocating for you."
Rath's stomach does that familiar flip at the reminder. Percy advocating for him, pushing for increased ice time, believing in his potential enough to put his own reputation on theline. It should feel purely professional, purely about hockey performance, but Rath can't separate it from the memory of Percy's voice during that phone call, the things he'd said about Rath's abilities that had nothing to do with power play positioning.
"I'm ready," Rath says, and realizes he means it. Whatever complicated feelings he has about Percy, his hockey performance doesn't have to suffer. If anything, knowing that Percy sees potential in him should make him more confident, not less.
"Good," JP says, closing his tablet and settling back for the remainder of the flight. "Because from what I hear, this could be a breakout road trip for you. First power play, increased minutes, chance to really show what you can do."
The pressure of that expectation sits heavy in Rath's chest, but it's good pressure. The kind that makes him want to work harder, play smarter, prove that Percy's faith in him is justified.
Rath stares out the window at the clouds below and tries to ignore the way his heart rate picks up at the thought of proving Percy right about him. Three games, multiple opportunities to show that Percy's advocacy wasn't misplaced, that the chemistry they have on the ice can translate into the kind of production that wins games.
No pressure at all.
The flight attendant comes by with drinks, and Rath accepts a ginger ale while JP opts for coffee. Around them, the plane settles into the quiet hum of routine travel—some players reading, others listening to music, a few working on laptops. It's peaceful in the way that team travel can be, a brief pause between the intensity of preparation and performance.
"So," JP says after the flight attendant moves on.
"What?"
"What happened between you and Cap to create such a fallout?"
Rath considers how much truth he can safely share. JP is trustworthy, has never betrayed a confidence or used personal information against anyone. But the full truth about the phone call feels too intimate, too complicated to explain without revealing feelings he's not ready to discuss.
"Misunderstanding," Rath says finally. "I thought he said something he didn't say. Got my feelings hurt over nothing."
"Yeah, I know about the misunderstanding," JP says. "But you took it really hard. Seemed like maybe there was more to the story than you were letting on."
The question hits closer to home than Rath is comfortable with. Because the truth is, his reaction had been so extreme partly because of the phone call, because he'd been vulnerable with Percy in a way he'd never been with anyone. The thought that Percy might have been manipulating him, using his attraction and trust for some cruel joke, had felt like a betrayal that went far beyond normal team dynamics.
"Doesn't matter now," Rath says. "We figured it out."
JP nods, but his expression suggests he knows there's more to the story. "Good. Because you two work well together. Be a shame to lose that over some stupid miscommunication."
The pilot announces their descent into San Jose, and Rath watches the city grow larger through the window. Three games in six days. Plenty of opportunities to prove himself, and plenty of time to figure out how to be the player Percy thinks he can be.
Even if he never figures out how to stop wanting more than just Percy's professional respect.
The plane touches down smoothly, and as they taxi to the gate, Rath can feel the familiar shift in energy that happens when the team transitions from travel mode to game mode. Conversations become more focused, posture more alert. Bythe time they're gathering their carry-on bags and preparing to deplane, they're no longer just twenty-something guys traveling together—they're a professional hockey team with a job to do.
Rath falls into line with the rest of his teammates, equipment bag slung over his shoulder, ready to face whatever the next six days bring. But as they file off the plane, he can't help stealing one more glance at Percy, can't help noticing the way his captain's jaw is set with determination, the way his eyes are already focused on something beyond the immediate logistics of travel.
Percy catches him looking and for a moment their eyes meet across the jetway. Percy's expression is unreadable, professional, but there's something in his gaze that makes Rath's pulse jump.
Six days.
Rath follows his teammates toward baggage claim and tries to convince himself that's not nearly enough time for anything else to get complicated between them.
