Page 56 of Here We Go Again

“I mean, that’s a very Kim move,” Becca says. “She always was a realist. But I…” She shakes her head. “I hate to even say it out loud, but is it possible we’re both being played here?”

“You think they did this on purpose? Invited us both?”

“I mean, they’re basically best friends now. They’re playing pickleball. Having lunch a few times a week.” Becca tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mom has literally mentioned your mom a million times in the last few days. They’re setting us up, Theo. They have to be.”

14

THEO

I can’t respond to Becca’s claim that our mothers are setting us up because the airplane’s engine roars to life, and suddenly we’re racing down the tarmac. Becca reaches over and grips my forearm, dropping her head back as she closes her eyes.

I lean a little closer so she can hear me over the noise. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “I’ll be fine. It’s just the takeoff that makes me nervous.”

I wrap my hand over the top of hers. “Just keep breathing,” I say, and she takes an intentional deep inhale.

Finally, the noise settles, and Becca opens her eyes. “You’re probably used to this,” she says.

“What? Flying?”

“Yeah. With all your travel. Your away games.”

“I guess so. But those are chartered flights. They feel a little different than this.”

“What? Your fancy charter plane feels different than a very tiny economy seat?”

“I love this tiny economy seat,” I say, holding her gaze with mine, suddenly deciding I’ve been biding my time long enough. By the end of this week, I’m going to make sure she knows how I feel. “Feeling better?” We’re probably close to cruising altitude by now, nothing but clouds visible through the window.

She nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

I reluctantly let go of her hand. “You don’t fly a lot with your travel nursing?”

“Not really,” she says. “We mostly drive, which is easy when we’re staying in California. Or … Southern California, I guess. The few times when we went farther north, we did fly. Which, I can. I manage. I just don’t like it.”

“I get that. My teammate, Holly, hates flying.”

“He’s the goalie?”

“Yeah,” I say, appreciating that she knows. Only people who follow the team tend to know Beckett Hollifield’s nickname.

She licks her lips. “Logically, I know I shouldn’t fear it. It’s safer than driving. Safer than bike riding. I’ve read all the statistics. And yet … I don’t know. It feels like surrendering a lot of control.”

The captain’s voice comes over the speaker one more time, warning us we’re headed for some bumpy air, so there will be a slight delay in our beverage service.

“Oh great,” Becca says, letting out a little chuckle. “Fantastic.”

“What do you need?” I say. “Water? Drugs? Alcohol?”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You have access to all three?”

“I have access to … one of the three? But I think the first-class flight attendant likes me, so I bet I could get you some of the other two if I tried hard enough.”

Becca lets out an exasperated laugh, but she’s smiling, so I’m calling it a win. “This is actually helping,” she says. “Just keep talking to me. Distract me. And keep your hand available in case I need it again.”

I’m about to circle back to our clearly conniving mothers and what we’re actually doing on this flight when Becca’s gaze drops to my hand.

“How’s your recovery going?”