Page 14 of Player Misconduct
Her eyebrow arches as if calling my bluff.
“Okay, I was thinking about it.”
She shakes her head with a snicker just under her breath and leaves me with the smallest grin before moving on to check another player. I’d take the concussion twice to see it again.
After media, and a team dinner that I just happen to end up sitting next to her… by complete coincidence… or so I sell it to her, we’re herded toward the buses in the thin mountain air, Hawkeyes duffel bags hanging off shoulders, and beanies pulled low. The plan is simple: quick flight home, sleep in our own beds, regroup for the next game against Colorado at home. Tightschedule, tighter nerves, and a date for me with a neurologist that will decide my fate for the next day.
Except the plan doesn’t care about us.
Coach Haynes is already on the phone with operations when the announcement filters through: mechanical issues. The jet grounded until morning, maybe longer.
The bus is headed for the commercial airport instead. Slade mutters a word that makes the rookies blush, and there’s a collective groan of annoyance throwing the bus. Then we all start pulling out phones and argue with flight apps and shitty reception.
“Commercials only. We’ll all have to split up to get home. Book your flights, travel will have to reimburse you, just get home before morning skate.”
Which means chaos. Hockey players are not built for airports.
Within twenty minutes, the bus pulls up to the airport terminal and hockey players and families are spilling out and into the lobby of the airport. Duffles being hurled out of the belly of the buss, while players are grabbing and running to the desks to check bags and get their tickets in order to make it through TSA to make whatever flight they booked to get out of here.
I’m near the back of the group, scrolling flights with one thumb and checking for my passport with the other, when Theo jogs up beside me. We’re the last two people from the team to get to the front desk. Coaches booked too. Everyone’s scrabbling through the TSA line. “Hey, I’m routing through Chicago,” he says, turning to me, only a few feet away. “I’m trying to get Kendall on too, but…” He grimaces.
“But?”
“She’ll be waitlisted in case someone misses the flight. They’ve only got one seat confirmed for me.”
I look to the side and behind him and realize there’s no Kendall anywhere near him.
“Where the hell is she?” I ask, turning, frantically looking around for blonde hair and a frown.
We sat together on the bus ride over since she said that she’s sticking with me tonight for observation but I thought she was right behind me when we got off the bus.
“I don’t know. I thought she was with you.” he says.
I look over the lobby terminal again to find her outside next to the bus, still trying to wrangle a stuck medical bag strap from the belly of the bus. The bus driver is helping her and finally he makes one large pull and releases it.
“Waitlist isn’t going to work. We’re not leaving her in Denver by herself.”
She moves like she’s trying to keep her world from falling apart in public view—methodical, contained, not asking for help as she pulls her bag strap over her shoulder and jogs towards the automatic doors.
“I can reroute you through LAX and then up to Seattle,” the ticket agent tells him. “You’ll get in three hours later.”
Theo scrubs his jaw. “Perfect. Because what I really wanted tonight was LAX flight delays.”
I turn to my agent who’s trying to find me a flight out of here. “Do you have two seats anywhere to Seattle?”
She types on her keyboard quickly, looking for anything she can find.
“Everything’s booked solid except a Vegas connection with two first-class seats. That’s it.”
“I’ll take them.”
She hesitates. “It’s about three thousand for both.”
I pull my card from my wallet and slide it across the counter. “I don’t care about the cost. We go together or not at all.”
Her brows jump. “You sure?”
“Yes.” I lean forward slightly. “Print fast.”
