NIGHTMARES?

MELISSA'S POV

“Mel?”

 I looked up from my half-zipped duffel to see Katrina leaning against the doorway, phone clutched in her hand.

 “Hey,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just wanted to say… you were good out there. Like, really good.”

 I blinked. “Thanks.”

 She gave a half-shrug, then smiled. Or tried to. It looked forced.

 “You okay?” I asked, straightening up.

 “Me?” Her voice shot up an octave. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 I tilted my head. “You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

 Katrina scoffed, dragging her fingers under her lids like it was nothing. “Just tired. You try screaming for two hours straight and looking cute after.”

 I crossed my arms. “Nightmares?”

 She hesitated.

 That pause was all I needed.

 “They started again?” I asked, quieter.

 “It’s fine.”

“Katrina.”

“I said it’s fine.”

 I stepped forward. “You should talk to someone. Maybe Dr. Rami again.”

 She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a therapist.”

 “You said that last time. Then you stopped eating for a week.”

 Her lips tightened. “It’s not that bad.”

 “You look like a raccoon.”

 “Wow, thanks,” she muttered, trying to laugh. It didn’t land.

 “I’m serious.”

 She looked away, fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. 

“I’ve been sleeping,” she said finally. “Just… not great sleep. That’s all. It’ll pass.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

I didn’t believe her.

But I also knew better than to push.

Katrina hated looking weak. Hated admitting anything hurt. Even when it obviously did.

So instead, I walked back to my bag and zipped it shut.

“You packed?” she asked behind me. 

“Almost.”

She stepped further into the room, her voice softer now. “We’ll be back home before sundown.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered.

“Miss the rink already?”

I shrugged. “Miss the silence.”

She snorted. “Figures. I like the noise.”

“You are the noise.” 

She grinned at that, and for a second, I saw the Katrina from before. The one who danced in kitchens and sang off-key just to annoy me.

But it faded fast.

She touched her face. “I’ll put on concealer. No one will notice.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Melissa,” she said firmly, “I’m not going back to therapy. Not now.”

I didn’t respond.

She waited.

Then sighed. “I just want to feel normal again.”

I looked at her.

“You’re not weak for needing help,” I said, voice low.

She bit her lip, eyes glassy for half a second. Then she blinked it away and smiled too brightly.

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat. “Are we sitting together on the flight?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I need someone to hold my snacks.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

She walked to the door and turned back.

“I’ll be fine,” she said one last time. “Promise.”

I didn’t answer.

Just watched her walk out.

Then I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the floor.

Katrina always acted strong.

Even when she wasn’t.

Especially when she wasn’t.

And I hated how familiar that felt.

I guess we really were sisters.

***

“Y’all better be grateful!” Coach barked as we climbed the steps into the jet. “That’s a whole-ass private plane! A billionaire friend of the league—hell if I know—offered it for the winners.”

“Feels like we’re royalty!” Liam said, tossing his gear bag up and flopping into one of the leather seats.

Jay whooped from the back. “Where the champagne at?”

“No champagne,” Coach snapped. “We’ve got press in forty-eight hours. Keep your heads down.”

 “Sure, Coach,” someone muttered. “Totally.”

 I walked past them, duffel slung over my shoulder, ignoring the noise. The inside of the jet was sickkk—white leather, mood lights, rows of seats that looked more like first-class lounges.

 As I reached the middle section, Coach patted my shoulder. “Brown.”

 I turned. “Yeah?”

 “You did damn good.”

 I nodded once. “Thanks.” 

“And you didn’t elbow the ref this time. I’m proud of you.” 

Jay laughed from somewhere behind me. “Growth!” 

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. 

I slid into my seat —

And immediately regretted it.

Because a deep, too-familiar voice filled my ear.

“Well, look who I get to sit with.”

I tensed. “Why is this your seat?”

“Assigned randomly,” Xavier said, dropping into the seat beside me like he belonged there. “Or maybe the universe just likes watching you suffer.”

“Clearly.”

He stretched out, too tall for this row, one knee brushing mine.

I scooted half an inch away.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “I don’t bite unless provoked.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“You never are.”

I pulled out my headphones.

He plucked one from my fingers.

“Hey—” 

“Relax. Just talk to me for two seconds.”

“Why?”

“Because we just won an international tournament, and you’re the only person not acting like it mattered.”

I sighed, leaning my head back.

“It mattered,” I muttered.

“You sure? You looked dead behind the eyes even after we scored.”

“I’m just not... loud.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

I turned my face toward him. “You always this annoying when you’re bored?”

He smiled. “Only to people I like.”

I blinked.

He realized what he said too late.

He cleared his throat. “Like. Like as in... I tolerate you. As a teammate.”

“Right.”

He leaned toward me slightly. “You’re blushing again."

“No, I’m not.”

“Your ears are pink.”

“Keep talking and I’ll deck you mid-air.”

He laughed under his breath, leaning back again, satisfied.

Across the aisle, I saw Katrina.

She wasn’t looking at me.

She was sitting next to Lucien.

He had his usual all-black outfit on. Black shirt, black jeans, black earrings. His hair was slicked back, and his jaw was sharp enough to cut through steel. He didn’t talk much—never did—but we got along. He respected my quiet. Never pushed.

And now he was beside Katrina.

Talking.

Actually laughing.

She tossed her hair back and gave him that practiced smile she used on red carpets.

But something was off.

I could see it in the tightness of her mouth. The way she kept glancing forward, toward my row.

I followed her line of sight.

She was looking at us.

Me and Xavier.

I sat up straighter.

Katrina turned away fast, like she hadn’t been staring.

I leaned my head into my palm, voice low. “She doesn’t like this.”

Xavier frowned. “What?”

“Us. Sitting together.”

He glanced across the aisle, then back at me. “She didn’t say anything.”

“She wouldn’t. She doesn’t show it.”

“Well, I didn’t pick this seat.”

“I know.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t.

Instead, he sighed and slumped lower into his seat.

The boys behind us were still shouting—someone dared Jay to eat four protein bars in a row.

Coach yelled from the front. “If I hear one of you vomit, I’ll make you clean this jet floor with your toothbrush!”

Liam screamed “Worth it!”

I shook my head.

“You good?” Xavier asked after a moment.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” 

I paused. “I’m more worried about her.”

He followed my gaze again.

Katrina was still laughing, but her eyes were hollow. Her nails dug into the armrest. Lucien said something to her, and she forced another smile.

“She’s not okay,” I muttered.

“You guys aren’t the type to talk about stuff, huh?” 

“No.” 

“That sucks.” 

I didn’t respond.

He tapped his fingers on the armrest. “You could talk to her. Tonight. Ask.”

“You’re her boyfriend.” 

“You can still ask.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

The plane engine hummed softly around us.

And next to me, Xavier stopped teasing.