Page 71 of Your Biggest Downfall
“You go,” she said.
“No. The letter I sent to you. I meant everything,” I said earnestly.
“Why?”
I sighed, grabbed a soda, and popped it open to give myself a moment to think. “I don’t know. I met you my first year playing, and we were good friends.”
I needed to start from the beginning. I had to tell her it all, lay it out for her to analyze and start over with.
“You helped me navigate that year and my career so much. We spent so much time on the airplanes going back and forth to the games.”
She gave me a soft smile. “You were the best seat partner.”
While my mom was forced to follow me to my games, she was always sitting in the back with Ledger. At first, Alex Popov helped me run plays, but he got bored through the season and I sat next to Nova. Our friendship was almost instantaneous.
“You don’t know how to make a video on Tok?” she asked, her nose scrunching up in the most adorable way.
We were flying over the Rockies, and she was rummaging through her bag for her ring light.
“No,” I admitted, and she lightly touched my shoulder.
“Come on, you can’t be running ads without at least knowing how to use a ring light.” She spent the next ten minutes patiently explaining how it worked, giving me a play-by-play.
When I thought I had a handle on it, I turned to her. “Is this what you want to do?” I asked.
“Social media?”
“Yeah.”
“I love it,” she said, her enthusiasm evident. “A lot of people don’t see the value, but it’s changing the way companies and people market themselves. It’s cool to see regular people gain popularity just by sharing their lives online.”
I hadn’t considered it that way before. I was one of those people who didn’t understand social media, too focused on hockey and surviving my first season.
“You played a good game tonight,” she said, her voice dropping an octave.
“You watched?” I asked, surprised.
She was so beautiful, her green eyes locking onto mine as she fumbled with her light, trying to stuff it back into her backpack. The plane rocked a few times, and she lurched forward, bumping her head on the tray table.
“Hey.” I reached out, gently lifting her chin to make sure she was okay while intertwining her fingers with my other hand, pulling her back into the safety of the seat. “Are you alright?”
She giggled, the sound light and infectious. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Everything about her was bright and beautiful. I noticed the tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves and ran my fingers along her arm.
“Why do you cover these up?” I asked, my fingers lingering on our hands tucked together.
“My boss hates them,” she mumbled.
I wished I could see her tattoos fully—one day, maybe. She didn’t pull away, so I kept our hands low, hidden from prying eyes.
“Thanks for showing me how to make the videos,” I whispered, leaning in close so no one else could hear.
She smiled softly at me, a warmth in her eyes that made my heart skip a beat. Then she turned to gaze out the window. Our hands remained intertwined, fingers gently laced together, as we silently shared the rest of the flight, the connection between us growing stronger.
Nova Thatcher was going to be my friend, whether she wanted to be or not.
“I’m sorry. After the season and . . .”
