Page 81 of Finding the Forward: Part One
“Come on.” Coach marched us up the stairs and onto the plane.
My phone buzzed again. I glanced at it and grimaced.
Also, while Dean and Grif were on that plane, so wasJonas–who I hadn’t seen since that night in the kitchen.
“Why are you nervous? If you’re worried about what the team will think, fuck them. You're an alpha. As Creed always tells you, you’re allowed to do what you please as long as you don’t hurt anyone. Did you two have a fight?” Mercy hissed as we brought up the rear, since I took stairs slowly.
“No. Things are fine.” I shook my head as we made our way up the stairs.
Everything had been great in the couple days he’d been back since the last away stint. I’d even made Dean bread rolls shaped like pumpkins.
“Move, Steve. It was approved,” Coach said from inside the plane.
“I don’t like disrupting my players’ routine,” Coach Atkins, the Knights head coach, grumbled, his suit-clad form blocking the aisle, as he scowled.
“I don’t want my rookies missing out. There’s only seven of us. You have the room.” She scowled back. If I were a bettingperson, I’d count on the Maimers coach winning the scowling contest.
“Barely. The empty seats are in the back. The players already have their preferred routines, so don’t be disturbing them,” Coach Atkins replied, eyeing us disapprovingly. “Seven? I thought there were six.”
“We have Team Mom with us,” our coach said as we crowded into the front of the plane.
Coach Atkins looked baffled. “Why do you have a team mom?”
“Professor Mami, you can sit with me!” Carlos enthusiastically waved at me from his seat.
“Team Mom, did you bring us snacks?” Clark added from his place across the aisle Carlos.
Coach Atkins rubbed his temples and sighed.
Mercy elbowed me and grinned. “See? The Knights love you.”
“If I'd have known we were hijacking your plane, I’d have made treats.” I waved back. While I had cake pops in my backpack, they weren’t for them.
An unamused flight attendant appeared. “Could everyone please sit down? We need to depart.”
“Maimers, move to the back,” our coach told us, barreling past Coach Atkins.
Coach Atkins stepped aside, sighing. The players were mostly sitting two by two in plush seats that were spread out so they could recline completely. Though a few had their own rows.
A giddy feeling swept through me as I spied Grif. Third row back, left side, window seat.
Dean sat beside him. Oh? Maybe now that they were on the same team it didn’t matter. It could have been a finals thing, like his scruffy beard.
Across the aisle was Jonas, with the window seat empty. Behind all those seats was another section that wasn’t as spacious. It was still so much nicer than most planes–which waswhere Coach led the Maimers. It was the opposite of the skate smash planes, where the staff sat up front and the players in the back.
I waved. Grif waved back. Dean waved both hands. Both wore suits and looked downright lickable.
As I passed them, I reached out and squeezed Grif.
“Sit with me.” Dean tried to pull me onto his lap. Jonas eyed me from his seat.
“Please take a seat so we can leave,” the flight attendant pressed.
I pushed myself up off Dean’s lap, leaning onto my crutch. “I’ll visit you both later. Gotta do what Coach says.”
“Ver, there’s a seat for you back here,” Mercy called.
A whine echoed through the plane. A heart wrenching, soul slicing, omega whine. Every alpha’s focus riveted toward Dean, me included, as it awakened an ingrained need to fix whatever was wrong.
