Away Game

Anna

The bus ride was quieter than she remembered.

Not silent—just cautious.

Not avoidance—just awareness.

She sat near the front with her clipboard, headphones in, watching frost curl along the window as the highway blurred past. No one said anything outright, but she could feel it: the ripple of attention, the curious glances, the not-quite-whispers that stopped the second she looked up.

She wasn’t just the team doctor anymore.

She was the story.

And even though Chris sat four rows back, halfway into a conversation about defensive pairings, she could feel him too.

Solid. Watching.

Present.

It steadied her in a way she hadn’t expected.

---

They checked into a hotel just past dusk. Two buses. A crowd of fans outside. Local reporters already circling.

“Try not to trip walking into the lobby,” one of the assistants joked.

Chris caught her eye as she stepped off the bus. Not a smile. Not a smirk.

Just a nod.

Grounding. Quiet.