Page 23 of Citius

My seat was a few rows back, with a hooded figure already by thewindow. The hood was a good sign. Maybe they were also running on fumes and wouldn’t want to make small talk while I listened to an audiobook.

As I approached, they looked up—shelooked up. Trendy eyeglasses, angular nose, bow-shaped lips.

Morgan.

“Wyatt.” She tilted her head back to take me in. The hood slipped off, revealing a mussed reddish-purple bob. Never seen her with such short or flashy hair. “It’s been a while.”

Although her facial expression remained neutral, her wide eyes betrayed her. At least I wasn’t the only one unprepared for this encounter.

Sure, we followed each other on social media, but we hadn’t talked since that day. Six weeks after her accident. I didn’t know what to say to her then, and I sure as hell had no idea what to say to her now.

“Hi, Morgan.”

I eased down into my seat, overly aware of the breadth of my shoulders and how my body mass crowded her space. I tried to move as little as possible while fastening my seatbelt. Thankfully, the airline had pumped the cabin full of scent neutralizers. I probably smelled like a sweaty pile of plant compost.

Morgan placed her tablet face down on her lap. “Congratulations on your new job, coach.”

“Assistant coach—I’m the assistant coach for the alpha girls. And thank you.”

The corner of her lip twitched. Had I already done something wrong?

“I don’t suppose they told you the names of your team physicians yet.”

My pulse sped up. “Uh, no, they didn’t. Don’t start until Monday.”

“Would you like to know?” she asked.

“O-only if you’re one of them.”

Morgan angled toward me a bit so we could look one another in the eye for the first time in years. She had beautiful eyes. A true golden amber. Just like I remembered them.

“I support all the women’s gymnastics teams.”

Christ on a cracker. How was I supposed to react in this situation?

I was excited to work on the same campus as Morgan. It meant there would be plenty of chances for us to cross paths. If we exchanged enough greetings, maybe she wouldn’t mind having the occasional quick conversation with me. We could talk about sports or her cats.

Or fantasy books. I’d even try to read one if it gave me a legitimatereason to talk to her.

We could get drinks. Tea for her, coffee for me. Morgan didn’t like coffee.

The possibility of working together—on the same team—had never occurred to me.

But it made sense for the university to assign her to women’s gymnastics. As a former world-class gymnast, she understood all the skills and their associated risks. She was also the very definition of calm and collected. A consummate professional. Always had been.

At least, that’s how I liked to remember her.

“What other teams do you work with?” I asked, eager to keep the conversation going.

“Football. Women’s basketball and volleyball. Home games only.”

At the front of the cabin, the flight attendants ran through the standard safety demonstration, pointing out emergency exits and reminding everyone that scent-canceling spray was available upon request.

As if the cabin wasn’t already pumped full, preventing me from catching even a hint of her scent.Thatscent. The one ingrained so thoroughly in my soul that it might as well have been my own.

Asking for a fresh hit of her pheromones first thing after a decade apart would be the height of stupidity. Thank fuck work seemed like a safe topic.

“I’ve never worked with a mixed-designation team before. Is it weird?” Perfect. It was only the second stupidest thing I could’ve said.

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