Scott lunged out of his seat behind them and grabbed the phone from Axel. “There is a thing called privacy. Don’t be a dick.” He held the phone back to Cross.
“Not from your teammates,” Axel whined. “Cross never tells us anything.”
“No one in their right mind tells you anything,” Scott retorted. As soon as Cross had his phone, Scott grabbed Axel in a headlock. They wrestled, tripping into the aisle and half-falling into Zykov’s lap.
“Do not squish your goaltender.” Zykov shoved Axel upright.
From the front of the plane, Coach Gustafsson called back, “You break a player roughhousing on the plane, and I’ll bench you for a week.”
“Who, coach?” Axel asked, breaking free.
“You, probably.”
Axel laughed. Scott shoved him farther down the aisle and took Axel’s seat next to Cross. “Sorry. He was raised by wolves.”
“Vicious Swedish wolves,” Axel said cheerfully, dropping into the seat Scott had vacated. “Fast and agile, make great hockey players.”
“Terrible at stick handling,” Zykov chimed in. “Clumsy front paws.”
“I should’ve landed on you harder,” Axel chirped. “Big fat Russian wolf.”
Cross listened to his teammates bickering, a smile hovering on his face. Although he stowed his phone in his pocket. Not that he was worried. His friends would be okay if they found out he was chatting with Rusty. Well, of course they would, because it was a mentorship situation, no reason for them to imagine anything else. Half that thread was hockey tips. Well, maybe a quarter now, but lots of it, a good reason to keep touching base with Rusty after all he’d been through.
Touching base, and maybe adding the occasional helping hand in secret.
Quasi-secret. Rusty had noticed the new security cameras at the Gryphons’ arena the day after Cross arranged and paid for the installation. The whole point was deterrence, so the cameras were visible and marked with “This area under video surveillance” signage. The next time Cross texted him, Rusty had said back,~Suddenly there’s much better security at our arena. Crazy coincidence?
Cross had replied,~Maybe they’re worried about liability.
~Uh huh.But Rusty hadn’t pushed back any further, which made Cross sure he’d done the right thing. If Rusty wasn’t getting on his case about spending the money, it was because the cameras made him feel safer and he didn’t want to lose them.
Cross wanted Rusty to feel safe, tobesafe. Three days ago, after a nightmare where it was Rusty rather than Scott in the back seat of that SUV and Tyler holding the gun, he’d briefly considered hiring the kid a bodyguard. Luckily, morning sunshine and a couple of hours of sleep banished that ridiculous idea. Cross refused to have that level of security for himself. He wouldn’t burden Rusty with it, and Rusty would never accept it. Pink spray paint wasn’t bullets.
He’s a big boy. He’s fine.Even though Rusty was now heading back to his home arena and Tyler’s hometown.
“Are you okay?” Scott murmured. “You’re thinking about something hard.”
Cross wasn’t about to admit all the places his brain had gone, but Scott was Rusty’s other mentor. He could say, “Just thinking about Rusty being back in Eugene on a homestand for the next seven games.” They hadn’t told Scott about Tyler, but the paint episode had been public. “Arena parking lot.”
Scott screwed up his nose. “Hopefully the pink paint was a one-off. A pity there were no cameras.”
“There are now.”
Scott’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s proactive of them. I didn’t think the Gryphons management were those kind of allies.”
“Helps to have it done for free.”
“Ah.” After a minute of silence, Scott said, “Does Rusty talk to you about how he’s doing, flying the rainbow on the ice? I get little nothing-texts. Now in my case, I have all of you backing me up, and Will and Casey to talk to when shit gets real. Kenny punched out that mouthy defenseman in LA.”
“Before I could.” Cross had been willing, but not sorry to let his much larger D-partner deliver one for the team.
“Right. But I don’t get the feeling Rusty has that kind of backing from his teammates. Maybe he has other friends he can talk to, like Kris or his high school buddies, but I worry he’s trying to do it all alone.”
“He’s said a few things to me.” Cross hesitated, then added, “I’m going to have him come up tomorrow afternoon for some pizza and stick-handling coaching. I figure I’ll ask casually how he’s doing.”
“You’re a good man, Crossie.” Scott thumped Cross’s knee.
Not really.“You could come hang out too.” That was what a good man, a good mentor, should say. Cross realized that he didn’t want to share Rusty’s afternoon with Scott, so he pushed himself further. “And Axel or whomever.”
