Page 97 of First Down Promise

Her grin grows larger. “I love you, too.”

She shuts the back door and turns toward the airport entrance, but glances over her shoulder before I pull away. The look she gives me makes it a little harder to leave. Once she disappears past the sliding glass door, someone behind me honks, and I continue to the private terminal next to the main airport.

Half an hour later, I’m sitting in a leather lounge chair while the last of the team is going through security when Abby texts me. I sip my small to-go coffee from their coffee bar and unlock my phone.

Abby: Through TSA and found my gate.

Me: Get your latte yet?

Abby: Are you kidding? The line was insane. Got a pre-made one. Hope Boston has good coffee.

“Why are you smiling at your phone like a teenage girl?” Dane asks. My eyes dart from my phone to the giant person standing in front of me.

“Why aren’t you?” I retort with a laugh.

“It would take a lot to get me to grin like that at my phone.”

“Just takes the right girl, Dane.”

“Right.” He takes a sip of his complimentary coffee, but something briefly dims in his expression.

We take off before Abby, and once at cruising altitude, I connect to the Wi-Fi and open a flight tracking website to search for her flight number. I swipe down on my screen to refresh the webpage until her flight finally takes off. I also search our flight number and switch between tabs on my phone’s browser, comparing our distances. We’re estimated to arrive an hour before she does, and our trip from plane to bus to hotel is a lot simpler than hers. If her arrival time was closer to ours, I would have tried to have her catch a ride with us, but instead, I arranged a private driver to bring her to the hotel from the airport. Part of me worries she’ll be embarrassed that a driver will be standing there holding a sign with her name on it, but the other part of me is relieved that she doesn’t have to wait for an Uber in an unfamiliar city.

We’re wheels on the ground a little early, and it’s always a blur once we land. The flight was quieter this time, and while that could be because Pete is out, the team could be generally worn down from the long season and expecting the inevitable loss to the Admirals tomorrow.

From the bus, I text Abby even though she won’t see it until she lands. I’m sitting next to Dane, and he pretends not to look as I type the message to her.

Me: Here. Hope you land safely, and I’ll send you my room number.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask him.

Dane laughs under his breath. “Nope, I’m good. But it is good to see you with someone like her. Even though I think you’re down bad.”

“Don’t be a hater, player,” I tease.

“I’m not hating, Josh,” he replies more sincerely than I’ve ever heard from him.

I side-eye Dane while I open my browser again with the website displaying her flight tracker on it and refresh it. He might have a point, but fuck it. She’s making good time and is over Pennsylvania now. The next time we both leave the state of Tennessee, we better be traveling together.

When we arrive at the hotel, we receive our room keys, but I approach the front desk to request a second key for Abby. The married guys on the team usually have their significant others stay with them, and it’s my turn.

Once I finally unlock the hotel room door, I toss my duffel on the desk and step toward the window. I have a stadium-facing room, and the giant Admirals logo on it feels like it’s mocking me. We’ve lost here before with Pete playing, and tomorrow will probably be no different. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and as I yank it out, the screen is lit with a text.

Abby: Landed!

And I can breathe again now that we’re in the same state.

Knowing she still won’t arrive for an hour, I take a shower to clean up for the team dinner in the hotel’s ballroom this evening. She’ll probably want to freshen up beforehand. I fold up my sweatsuit from today so I can wear it after the game tomorrow night and snag my small toiletries bag.

I don’t spend much time in the shower. Just long enough to wash my hair and body, and I don’t stand there letting the water beat my back like normal. I dry off and pull on a pair of relaxed jeans, and I’m shrugging into a black long-sleeved flannel when my phone buzzes with Abby asking about our room number. I send it to her, and she replies that she’s getting out of the car.

A knock sounds at the door before I can start buttoning up my shirt. I’m grinning ear to ear as I open the door, but only Dane stands there. He eyes me up and down and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you have Tylenol?” he asks.

“Regular, extra-strength, or nighttime?” I ask, holding the door open for him to walk in.

He rubs his chin. “Good question. I think I’ll start with extra strength and see how I feel. Might come back for some PM later,” he answers. I pull the individually wrapped dose from my bag and hand it to him. “Thanks, man.”