Chapter 10

: Brandon

I ’m dreaming the plane has hit turbulence, and we’re going to crash.

Oh shit, it’s not a dream.

I’m jolted awake as the plane bounces through the air like a toddler on a trampoline full of drunk adults. I grab whatever I can, which is the armrest to my left and a person to my right.

Weird. I could have sworn that seat was empty when we took off.

Then I feel fingers prying my hand off. “Let go of me!”

I try to glance over, but we hit another big bump. I close my eyes as my head slams back into my seat. I’m going to die. Immediately my thoughts jump to my mother.

Is this what Mom felt like as the truck barreled toward her? Did she know? At least I’ll get to see her again soon.

I hope. I haven’t been the best behaved, but I’m sure God understands what I’ve had to deal with.

“This is your captain speaking. We’ve hit a bit of turbulence—”

No shit, Sherlock. What’s your next case?

“—due to a strong front of powerful storms moving in. We tried flying north to circumvent but the front has shifted slightly. We have to land until this passes. There are several severe weather warnings in effect, and we will need to land now. Crew, please prepare.”

“What the actual fuck?” I growl as the plane jerks again. I’d like to let out a few more choice words, but the plane starts a rapid descent, and I’ve no choice but to squeeze my eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

There’s a pretty good chance I’m going to puke all over myself.

A few minutes of hell with my stomach rising up into my throat only to drop to my toes and repeat and then we’re on the ground.

“I said, let go!” The voice next to me permeates through the fog of fear that is currently engulfing me. I finally open my eyes and turn my head to see a woman sitting next to me.

Okay, I’m sure she wasn’t there when I fell asleep. She’s looking at me through narrowed eyes. The rest of her face remains expressionless, but I’m pretty sure she’s giving me a death glare. She’s holding her hand as if my touch burned it.

Wait, she looks a little familiar.

Not a little familiar. A lot familiar.

Fuck no.

“Wait, aren’t you that lady ref?” Her blonde hair is down, but I’m pretty sure it’s her. I remember that icy blue stare.

She rolls her eyes. “I have a name. Andi Nichols.”

“You threw me out of the game.”

“You threw yourself out, Brandon Nix. I simply called and penalized the infractions as I saw them. And that was totally a handball. Don’t even try to argue. Again.”

“Most refs would have let it slide. And then it wouldn’t have been my second yellow.”

“Most refs are lazy and don’t want people mad at them, especially big baby soccer players. People are mad at me for existing. I could have called a perfect game, and someone would still find something to gripe about simply because I’m a woman. And we both know that the penalty against Treyvon Wallis-Smalls could easily have been a red card by itself.”

She may have a point. “You weren’t sitting here the whole time, were you?” I change the subject rather than let her know that I agree with her. For the record, I didn’t disagree with her because she’s a woman. I’m just pissed I got sent off and am now on probation for it. I’d feel this pissed off if she had a dick. “I would have remembered that.”

“How many concussions have you had? Of course I wasn’t here the whole time.”

Damn, she’s snippy. “What crawled up your butt?”

Her mouth opens and then closes. She repeats this, resembling a fish. I take this as an opening. “Do you know I’m on probation with the Buzzards? All because of you.”

The captain interrupts my rant. “We are temporarily grounded in Appleton, Wisconsin. We’ll deplane and move to a weather-sheltered area in the airport until the front passes. We will continue to update about plans to continue the flight at a later time.”

We’ve finally taxied to a stop, and I stand to get my luggage from the overhead bin.

The lady ref stands but remains hunched over due to the height of the bulkhead. She looks like a bum, in oversized sweatpants that have bleach stains down the front and a large shapeless T-shirt. Combined with her socks and Birkenstocks, she looks like she’s just rolled out of bed.

She takes in a breath and then lets it out slowly. She says something, but I can’t hear her. The noise level of the passengers is exceedingly loud. Probably because we almost died and now we’re all stranded—where are we again?

“Listen, I don’t need your bullshit about how I need to check my behavior on the field. I’m there to do a job, and I get the job done. I’m the leading scorer.” I take a step back so she can move into the aisle. The doors are still closed, so we’re packed in like sardines.

She stands straight up and we’re almost eye to eye. There’s barely any space in between our bodies. “A truly good soccer player can figure out how to score goals without fouls.”

The door opens and she turns to face it. The passengers in front of us begin to file out, creating space between our bodies. The flight attendant hands the lady ref her suitcase. She takes it and then turns over her shoulder. “And this is just a hint, but maybe you want to invest in some breath mints.”

Then she’s gone, leaving me standing there in shock.

Someone nudges me from behind, startling me back into reality. This is a nightmare. It cannot be happening.

But it is.

Not only did we have to make an emergency landing due to the weather, but now we’re here . I’m not even sure where here is. The only other time I’ve ever been to Wisconsin is when we played the Milwaukee Steins.

Yes, their soccer club is named after a beer stein.

I don’t remember that airport being as tiny as this one. So tiny that there is one person working the United Airlines counter. There are four people ahead of me, one being Andi Nichols. I guess I’m not the only one who wants to see what the plan is for moving forward.

Nobody insults me and gets away with it.

I’m about to tell her exactly what I think of her when my phone pings. It’s an update from the airline, indicating that I should remain close to the terminal to listen for updated information as it becomes available.

It pings again. That was quick.

Nope, it’s my sister.

Jess: What time are you getting in? I’m so excited to see you

I hum with frustration.

Me: Emergency landing in Podunk, Wisconsin. Apparently bad storms moving through. Hopefully can get back in air soon

“Can you stop?” She has turned around and is now glaring. There’s no mistaking it.

“Stop what?” I’m just standing here, texting my sister.

“You’re growling like a bear. Or maybe a disgruntled badger. We are in Wisconsin.”

If it were any other woman slinging this insult, I’d probably turn it around into a flirtation. Seeing as how it’s Andi Nichols, I’d rather hit on a bear. Or a badger.

I’m sure either would be friendlier.

A loud clap of thunder rattles the windows of the terminal as rain begins to pelt. We both pause our momentary arguing to look at Mother Nature’s fury.

It’s unsettling to watch from the safety of the airport. I can’t imagine what flying through this would be like. It may be inconvenient, but I’m glad we landed.

“Is this going to mess up your day?” I ask Andi without looking at her. I don’t know why I ask. I’m not one for small talk, and she’s the last person I want to be making it with.

In the minute that it takes her to answer, I sneak a glance to see her expression. I wish I hadn’t. “What?” Her nose wrinkles in disgust, as if talking to me is beneath her.

“Cool your jets, Andrew. I was just being polite.” I don’t know where that name came from, but I like it. If I had to put her number in my phone—which I cannot ever see myself doing—that’s how I’d save it. I smile a little at the thought.

Sometimes, it’s the little things.