Page 114 of Julian

Apparently, I don’t need to explain it. It’s written all over my haggard face. “I plan on spending the entire flight catching up on it,” I say, offering a weak smile.

Tanner studies me for another second before sipping his coffee. I’ve admired him since the day we acquired him from Chicago. Yes, he brings consistency to our lineup every single night, and that’s why we traded for him. But underneath all the bravado and flirting and nonstop joking is someone who genuinely cares about this organization.

He understands culture and leadership. Part of me thinks if he matures enough, one day he’ll be captain of the team, but he has some growing up to do. Guys like Tanner make teams better long before the puck drops. And that’s captain material.

“You and me both… you ready for this roadie?” he asks.

“As ready as I’m going to be.”

“That’s the spirit.” He gestures toward the runway outside. “Nothing cures January depression like Winnipeg.”

“I’ll alert the tourism board.”

He grins. “See? Morale’s already improving.”

I shake my head while we fall into step toward the boarding gate as players filter through the terminal behind us.

Grizz appears carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder while Canyon Marchand argues loudly with one of the assistant coaches about playoff seeding projections despite it still being January.

Tanner watches them and smirks. “You know what’s underrated?”

“What?”

“Team chemistry.” He nods toward the others. “It’s different this year. Loving the chem we have in the locker room.”

I glance around again, taking it all in. “Yeah,” I admit. “Me too.”

Boarding begins minutes later.

Tanner claps me on the shoulder as we head toward the plane. “Glad you see it too,” he says simply. “I think this team’s about to become a real problem for the rest of the league.”

And for the first time in the last couple weeks, I find myself believing in something, although it’s not enough hope to pull me out of my funk over Harper.

By the time I board the plane, exhaustion has settled into me.

I take my usual seat near the front and loosen my tie slightly before reaching into my coat pocket for the small orange prescription bottle I keep for flights like this. A sleeping pill, noise-canceling headphones, six hours unconscious somewhere over the Midwest.

That’s the plan.

I’m just about to put the headphones on when I lift my eyes and see Grizz boarding the plane.

“Hey, Julian,” he says.

I lift my chin in greeting. “Grizz…”

He starts to move past me but then does a double take, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You good, boss?”

“Fine.” I even attempt a smile, but it falters, causing Grizz’s eyes to narrow even further.

He looks down the aisle, head swiveling to the players boarding behind him, and then to my surprise, plops down into the seat next to me that usually is taken by one of the coaches or front office execs who might choose to travel with us. Never has a player chosen to sit next to me, not that I would rebuff such a thing.

But today, I’m not in the mood. I start to put the headphones on, secretly trying to will the sleeping pill to work quicker than the normal thirty minutes it takes.

“You don’t look good,” Grizz observes, the second player to call me out to my face.

Give the man a fuckin’ prize, I think to myself. “Yeah, well… nothing for you to be concerned about.”

I’m completely stunned when he takes the headphones from my hand. “I seem to remember a day not too long ago when I was moping around New York City and you forced me into your home, held me hostage over a Thanksgiving dinner table, then made me talk about my feelings for Daisy.” His fingers tighten around my headphones. “I think I’m going to do the same.”