Page 43 of Slew Foot
Mickey gave him a soft smile. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
Rafe shrugged. “Whatever you want is good with me.”
“Okay.” Mickey got the movie set up on his laptop, then handed over one of his earbuds. Rafe stuck it in his ear, then grabbed his backpack. When he pulled out his knitting, he saw a look of surprise cross Mickey’s face.
“What?” Rafe asked. “Did you think I only did this in front of the TV or something?”
“No.” Mickey smiled at him. “Of course not. It’s—it’s cool.”
“You think so?” Rafe asked Mickey hopefully. He was pretty sure no one had ever called his knittingcoolbefore.
Guys had said a lot of other stuff though.
“Being able to create something isverycool,” Mickey said firmly. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Okay.” Rafe ducked his head and hid a smile.
“Did you already finish the hat for your nephew?” Mickey asked, leaning in to inspect the scarf.
“Not yet. It’s kinda awkward to do on flights.”
“Makes sense.”
Rafe smiled down at the light purple mohair and silk blend yarn that was slowly being turned into a scarf for his aunt. It had a chevron lace pattern that looked complicated but was actually super easy now that he had the hang of it.
Rafe had taken knitting up after he’d broken his ankle early in his career and needed surgery. His mom had come to stay with him for a few weeks while he recovered. He’d had nothing to do and had been driving her crazy, so she’d finally thrust her spare knitting needles and other supplies at him and told him to learn it before she strangled him with the yarn.
Trying to learn on his own hadn’t gone well, so she’d sighed and sat down to explain it all.
At first, knitting had seemed like a whole other language and then he realized it was kinda like the plays his coaches drew up on a whiteboard. He was good at following instructions so after something hadfinallyclicked and he got the hang of it, it became fun.
Long after his ankle was better, he kept knitting, the patterns getting more and more complicated. He found it relaxing and it gave him more to do on the plane, although he saved the three-or-four-needle projects like hats and socks for when he wasn’t traveling.
Now, Mickey hitPlayon the movie—some music documentary that had come out recently, he’d said—and Rafe slipped the stitch holder off and set it on the tray table next to Mickey’s laptop.
They settled in, Rafe’s arm pressed against Mickey’s while he silently counted the stitches off, needles quietly clacking. It had been raining when they left Boston and after a frown at the gray clouds at cruising altitude, Mickey had pulled the shade closed.
Hopefully they wouldn’t end up in the middle of a storm again but for now it was peaceful, and everything was a little soft and hazy in the dim cabin except for the glow of the laptop screen.
Toward the back of the plane, Rafe could hear guys playing cards and the sound of Luke Crawford’s snores. It was familiar and comforting. The sound of a team.Hisnew team.
The scarf got longer as they watched the movie, and Rafe liked the way Mickey’s body shook when he laughed and the way he’d turn his head to smile at Rafe sometimes.
They switched to a TV show after, an adult cartoon Mickey had never seen and Rafe didn’t mind rewatching from the beginning,and then the plane began to descend. Thankfully, it was a pretty smooth landing but Rafe grimaced as he stared out the plane door at the rain sheeting down.
With a shrug, he grabbed the strap of his backpack tighter and jogged down the steps to the tarmac. He made a run for the bus that would take them to their hotel, his dress shoes slipping a little on the slick surface. On the bus, he shook his head, spraying water everywhere and getting groans and shoves from the guys nearby.
Whoops.
He wasn’t sure where to sit on the bus either but thankfully Mickey was behind him, pressing his fingers against Rafe’s hip, steering him into a row about halfway back. Rafe sat next to the window and grinned at Mickey as he slid into the seat beside him.
His hair was all wet and he looked grumpy about it.
“Want to dry off on my shirt?” Rafe asked, pulling a cozy half-zip sweater from his bag and offering it to him.
“Thanks, but I’m okay.” Mickey shot him a small smile, brushing his dripping hair off his forehead. He had a raindrop hanging from the tip of his nose and it made Rafe smile back. He almost reached out and brushed it away before he realized that might be weird.
Sometimes Mickey reminded him of Logan.
