Page 154 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

She just shakes her head. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Better,” I lie.

“Our flight is boarding soon,” Dad says.

Penn takes a seat in the row of chairs facing us, diagonally to me. He’s between where I think Oliver sits in relation to us.

Dad stands.

“Guys,” he calls.

They all slowly stop what they’re doing and focus on him.

“You know the rules. No drinking on the flight. We’re going straight from the airport to the rink. Your bags will be transferred to the hotel. Any questions?”

No one speaks. Dad nods and grabs his bag just as the announcements for boarding start. Perri and I rise quickly and follow him, while the rest of the team trails.

At the gate, Dad steps aside. Perri and I are the first of our large group to get on, and I check my seat number. 9A, which is luckily a window seat. Although it’s a fast flight, only an hour and a half, I’d like the option to curl up and sleep.

We get on the plane, and I balk. It’s not that I don’t like flying or am afraid of it… this is just a really small plane.

Two seats on either side of the aisle.

While I stop at row nine, though, Perri keeps going.

“Where are you sitting?” I ask her.

She turns and frowns, coming back to look at my ticket. “You’re supposed to be with us in seventeen. I’m sorry, Sydney. I’m not sure how that happened. Sit there for now, and hopefully we can get someone to switch.”

Great.

I take my seat and watch as the hockey players start to come down the aisle. They have to bend slightly so they don’t knock their heads, which would be comical if I suddenly didn’t feel like throwing up again.

The other goalie boards, quickly followed by Penn. He spots me immediately.

Oliver is next.

I sink lower.

The other goalie stops at my row, glancing from his ticket to the little placard above the seats. And he starts to unfold, but Penn’s hand on his arm stops him.

“Switch with me,” he says. He shoves his ticket at the other goalie and ushers him along, dropping into the seat beside me.

Oliver’s gaze lifts, his brow furrowed.

Until he sees me.

He opens his mouth, but that’s all I see. Penn is suddenly standing, facing Oliver. They have a silent conversation. Oliver flashes his ticket at Penn, just the flutter of paper makes me cringe.

He’s sitting right behind me.

It’s like he’s breathing in my ear. As soon as he takes his seat, I can’t lean back. I sit straight as an arrow, my shoulder against the curved wall of the plane.

“Switch with me,” he says as soon as another player sits beside Oliver.

I nod. We swap, and he flips off Oliver through the space between the seats.

Great. Now he can see me.