Page 17 of Player Misconduct
Then she turns to me. “You grew up in Finland, right?”
“I did… yeah. I spent most of my life there until I got drafted with the AHL.”
“So, after college?”
I nod.
She lets out a yawn. It’s been a long twenty-four hours but I’m glad she’s starting to settle in and is feeling safe enough to feel sleepy.
“Do you mind if I ask how your English is so good? Sometimes I hear your accent, and then other times, I really have to listen to catch it.”
I don’t tease her about listening carefully to hear my accent, or ask her if she’s into foreign guys because I can tell she’s genuinely interested and I want to keep this conversation going like that. I want her to be interested in knowing more about me like I am interested in knowing more about her.
“In Finland, kids are required to learn a second language in school. Not very many parts of the world speak Finnish. Mostkids study more than one. Swedish and English are the most common.”
“So you started speaking English as a second language really early?”
I nod. “My parents were both fluent in English and Swedish so me and my sister were brought up speaking all three, which made it easier since they were also study requirements as we got older. I picked up conversational German while I lived there for surgeries, and I know a little French, but only enough to curse at JP.”
She lets out a snicker, her head falling back against the head rest but her eyes still on me. “Okay, that explains alot.”
Outside the window, Denver dissolves into dark clouds and pinpricks of city light. Inside, her breathing evens out, slow and steady, the same rhythm as takeoff from Seattle.
We lost tonight.
We’ll fix it at home.
But somewhere between altitude and silence, I decide that maybe—just maybe—the universe threw us this detour on purpose.
And if the stars aligned for just one flight with Kendall?
I’ll take it. Every mile.
Chapter Four
Kendall
First class looked at us like we were the reason their bubbles were going flat when we entered the flight but at least now that we’re in the air, people have moved on.
We weren’t late. We were exactly on time for a gate that had been threatening to close for twenty minutes. Still, I felt the collective snarl as Aleksi shouldered our bags into the overheads with that big easy body of his as I slid into the window seat like I owed every stranger here an apology. The man across the aisle exhaled “finally” into his napkin. A woman in a camel coat performed an Olympic-level eye roll.
Just before we hit altitude, the flight attendant appears with politeness honed to a weapon. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks Aleksi, smiling like she wants to be mad at him but can’t quite resist the cheekbones.
“Get in line,”I’m tempted to tell her.
Aleksi’s fan club of women in his jersey coming to every home game and many away, is large enough to fill this aircraft. And I pass no judgement. He’s equal parts sweet and funny, with the boyish good looks but sexy in all the right ways. Not to mention that seeing him play out on the ice is its own aphrodisiac.
“Champagne,” he says, then glances at me. “Two.”
My head whips toward him. “No, he can’t,” I tell her. Remembering I’m a doctor, first and foremost. “He had a concussion tonight. No alcohol.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “They’re not for me, Doc.” He taps one thick finger against my shoulder. “They’re for you. To take the edge off. Your shoulders are up to your ears.”
“They are not.” I attempt to lower them and feel them climb higher.
He tips his head, all smug. “We raced a small marathon to get here. You hate flying. Sit back, take a deep breath, and drink a couple glasses of champagne. You earned it.”
The attendant—Team Aleksi—vanishes and reappears with two gold glasses that fizz, and that admittedly look like the type of liquid relief I could use. The second one she parks on his tray with a wink. He doesn’t touch it but keeps it for me so I can keep one hand on my glass and one hand still in his as a lifeline I’m not ready to relinquish just yet.
