I typed back:Fancier than my apartment.
That's not saying much. You surviving?
I glanced up without meaning to, my gaze finding the back of Taranis's head seven rows ahead.
Yeah,I typed.I'm surviving.
The plane's engines started, a low rumble that built into something powerful. Around me, conversations continued, easy and familiar. Someone laughed. Someone else complained about the coffee. The team settled into the rhythm of travel like they'd done this a thousand times.
Because they had.
And I was the new variable. The unknown. The guy who'd been fired from his last job, someone who had his entire professional failure documented online for anyone to google.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. Grateful for Nancy, because if she hadn't recommended me I would probably be working on a checkout line.
Mark nudged my shoulder gently as he sat down. “Don’t worry. First trip does this to everyone.”
“Does what?” I asked.Makes you realize how small you are,I thought. How replaceable.
But that wasn’t what he said. “Makes you realize how many people are holding this thing together,” he said. “You included.”
I swallowed, the hum of the plane settling around us. For the first time since I’d taken the job, the weight in my chest wasn’t just pressure.
It was awe.
This wasn’t just a team.
It was an ecosystem.
We landed in Vancouver just over three hours later, the plane touching down with barely a jolt. I'd spent most of the flight pretending to sleep, which meant I'd actually spent most of the flight listening to the team exist around me—laughter, trash talk, the occasional thud of something being thrown.
Normal. Easy. A world I didn't quite fit into yet.
The hotel was nice in that sterile, expensive way hotels always were—marble floors, too-bright lights, staff who smiled withoutmeaning it. We checked in as a unit, the team moving through the lobby like a small army.
I got my key card and my room assignment and tried not to feel relieved that I was rooming alone. Medical staff apparently rated their own space. Small mercies.
My room was on the eighth floor, tucked at the end of a hallway that smelled like industrial carpet cleaner. I dropped my bag on the bed and stood there for a moment, staring at generic hotel art and wondering what the hell I was doing.
My phone buzzed.
Team dinner at 7. Ballroom downstairs. Don't skip it.
The text was from Mark, which surprised me. I hadn't realized equipment managers kept track of medical staff social obligations, but Mark had a lot of experience, and I was grateful.
I typed back:I'll be there.And then, because I couldn't help myself, I added:Is it mandatory?
His response came immediately:Technically no. Realistically yes. Trust me.
I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, scrubbing both hands over my face.
Team dinner meant people. Conversation. Pretending I belonged when I very clearly didn't. It meant sitting at a table surrounded by men who'd known each other for years while I tried to figure out which fork to use and whether it was acceptable to leave early.
It also meant Taranis would be there.
My stomach twisted.
I'd been avoiding thinking about him all flight, which was impressive considering I'd been acutely aware of his presence the entire time. Heard him laugh once at something Max said. Noticed when he got up to use the bathroom and when he came back.