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“Sit down before I punch you for being stupid,” Noah said, not even looking up from his bag.

Thank fuck. Bennett let out the breath he’d been holding as he dropped into his seat and stowed his bag. “I thought you were going to make me sit with the rookies.”

“Fuck off. It’s insulting that you think so little of me.”

“I don’t, but⁠—”

“No but, Benny. I meant what I said.”

Bennett heard the words, but he still had trouble absorbing them. The denial, the efficient lie he’d told so often in his life, was ever-present, waiting there and clogging his throat . . . but he swallowed it. He chose silence, mostly because the lie didn’t feel right, not with Noah. Not anymore. That was both a relief and extremely terrifying. Bennett would definitely unpack that later, but not now. Not while on a plane surrounded by his teammates.

“Have you heard about this kid Carolina called up?” Noah asked, showing Bennett something on his tablet. “German. Tall and strong. Only nineteen and he’s a beast.” Noah hit play and the clip started. On the screen a Carolina player gave a devastating open-ice hit to Sam Clarke, Boston’s first-line center. Completely legal. Completely terrifying. Not one hockey player liked to see hits like that.

“Fuck,” Bennett said. “That’s brutal. Is Clarke okay?”

“They’re not saying officially, but I texted Jones,” he said, referring to a Boston defenseman Noah was friends with. “He said concussion protocol. Sam’ll miss the start of playoffs.”

“Jesus, that sucks,” Bennett muttered. “Who is this kid?”

“Max Mueller⁠—”

“You guys talking about that hit last night?” McPherson was now leaning over the seat. “Bro, I played with Muells once. He is fucking terrifying. Hits like a freight train.”

“Well, he just took out Boston’s AC for the start of playoffs.”

“Sucks, dude. I once saw Max check a dude into the boards so hard he broke the guy’s collarbone. Guy’s gonna be a terror in the league.”

McPherson dropped back into his seat, and when Bennett happened to glance back, he noticed McPherson was sitting alone again. Sewell and Mac were usually joined at the hip. But they hadn’t sat together on these flights, and Bennett hadn’t seen them eating at the same breakfast table, either. If there was trouble on the team, Bennett needed to know about it. Captains had to keep personal squabbles from affecting the room.

He waited until Mac put on his headphones before he elbowed Noah. When his friend took out his earbuds, Bennett asked, “The rooks break up or what?”

“I think so. I heard Mac’s been crashing with Patty the past couple of nights.”

Rookies had to share rooms on the road, while the older guys got their own rooms. Mac and Sewell were the only two Reign players that had to share at the moment. It wasn’t unheard of for a guy to crash in someone else’s room one night, but multiple nights? And combined with the plane and breakfast thing? Now Bennett was concerned.

“You know why?” he asked Noah.

“No. No one else does either. Patty said Mac’s been tight-lipped about why he doesn’t want to share rooms with Welly.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I didn’t want to add more shit to your plate.” Noah gave him a pointed stare. “You been kinda busy, Cap.”

“Fuck off. Not too busy for this. We can’t have these two fucking up the vibes right before playoffs.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

“No. I will.”

It was late when the charter touched down in Toronto. Bennett was exhausted. It was the same exhaustion he felt at the end of every road trip—the drain of not sleeping right, of having his usual routine disrupted—but it was worse in late March. Traveling over one hundred nights a year always caught up with him at the end of the season.

Their suitcases were being lined up on the tarmac, along with equipment bags for the team’s staff to handle. Not having to handle his own gear was a perk Bennett would never take for granted. That shit smelled terrible.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sewell say something to McPherson. Mac ignored Sewell and kept walking toward the terminal, his fingers moving over his phone screen. “Fine, whatever,” Sewell called to the other rook’s back.

Bennett’s exhaustion disappeared. He had to deal with whatever this was, immediately.

Rolling his suitcase, he followed McPherson toward the building. “Mac, hold up.”