Page 35 of Breaking Away

Someone behind us sniggers. This privacy is not very private. Ignoring all the eyes that must be watching, I lean even closer, looking down my nose at her. “You’re so… mean.”

She tips her head up and offers me a wincing smile. “Thatwasmean, wasn’t it? And you’re only trying to help.”

Before she retreats into her usualpolite consideration,I nudge her again. “Focus, Basra. I need to know.”

“Whether I want to stay or go?”

“Sure. But also—are you okay?”

Kavi inhales. Her body wobbles, but before I can steady her, she reaches to the overhead compartment for balance.

I don’t get it. All I did was ask if she was okay.

“Stay,” begs Hughes, the nosy fuck coming to linger behind me. “We won’t bother you. Promise.”

“I—” She hesitates, breathing deeply. “Yes. Idoneed to stay.”

Before I can ask why, her head tentatively pokes out from under my arm. “For the record, I’m not Lokhov’s girl,” she says. “I want to make that clear.”

It’s a statement I should happily agree with. Why does it piss me off?

“Why don’t you like Lokhov?” wonders Quinn. He’s our goalie. More social than me, but quieter than Hughes because everyone is quieter than Hughes. Quinn’s a giant nerd and isalways after the team to have game nights. A scar marks his face from his left eyebrow down to his neck. No one can ask him about it.

Since Kavi seems more comfortable, I let my arms drop and step to the side.

“You said it,” she says. “He’s the Wall.”

Quinn taps his chin. “And walls aren’t very sexy, are they?”

Lightning quick, I turn my head to her.

“I don’t know what kinds of activities you people are into, but no. Stationary objects are not sexy.”

“You people?” pouts Hughes.

“Yes, hockey players.” Kavi frowns, as if the whole subject is not worth her time.

“Then who are you to him?” someone asks, as if we’re in the middle of a fucking romantic comedy.

When she doesn’t answer, the team moves in.

“My guess is a therapist. The poor thing, what she must haveseenandheardwould give anyone trauma.”

“No, she’s his translator. Here to tell us what his grunty silences mean.”

“Accountant. Lokhov lost all his money.”

“If Lokhov’s poor, the rest of us are screwed.”

Addressing the team, I tell them flatly, “I hate you all.”

No one bats an eye.

An announcement comes on, asking everyone to take their seats.

Beside me, Kavi scans the plane. “Where should I sit?”

Hughes clears the seat next to him, moving his jacket to the overhead compartment.

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