Page 113 of Cross Check

It’s been two months since we last talked, and watching Grant on national television has been one of the toughest tests of my life. It’s excruciating to see him play his heart out, to see him celebrate with his teammates after each win and hang his head after the defeats.

My fingers have itched to grab my phone and reach out to him. I’ve wanted to wish him good luck before every game. I’ve wanted to tell him how proud I am of him, but I’ve held back. I don’t want to do anything to distract him, and this stretch of silence was my own doing.

It was a necessary pause. I was afraid of how close we were getting. I was afraid of how easy it is to be around him, and another afternoon spent together might have resulted in the spark of attraction. I could already feel the flicker of a flame every time he smiled at me. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against mine, and pulling back is the only way we’ll be able to stay friends down the line.

I have to suffer the consequences of my actions, and that means missing the hell out of him on a daily basis.

It’s funny how he’s worked his way into my life so perfectly. It’s not funny how much I notice his absence.

“Two-minute warning before we’re back!” Lainey calls out, and I scoop a brownie onto a plate for Sienna. I grab a water bottle for myself and jog down the hall, handing the snack to my best friend.

“Tie game,” I say. “It’s all or nothing now.”

Time moves at a snail’s pace, and the first eighteen minutes of the third period are hard to watch. Los Angeles is quicker and more efficient with their passes, but Sullivan doesn’t give them an inch. He protects his net, stopping shot after shot to keep the Stars’ hopes of another championship alive.

I shift to the edge of my seat as the period progresses. I clasp my hands and tap my foot on the floor. I’ve never been so anxious, and with sixty seconds to go, I stand.

“I’m too stressed out for a game I’m not emotionally invested in,” Lainey says. “This isn’t fair.”

With forty-five seconds to go, Los Angeles works back toward Sullivan. Hayes and Mitchell, the defensive pair that have played their asses off tonight, track each movement the Bulls players make as they approach the goal. Los Angeles’s star forward pulls back, lining up for a wrist shot, but Hayes steals the puck from him.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

The camera crew struggles to keep up with the speed of the Stars players racing down the ice. Hayes passes to Mitchell who kicks it over to Miller. Miller doesn’t spend any time with it, passing back to Hayes who looks up at the rafters for the briefest of seconds. Hayes brings his stick to his waist and launches a shot at the goal. The puck hits the left post before crossing the goal line, right between the goalie’s legs.

The buzzer sounds. The game ends, and all the Stars players rush the ice. Helmets and gloves and sticks get tossed in the air. They pile on each other, Hayes on the bottom, and I find Grant in the crowd of bodies.

He’s grinning from ear to ear. Launching himself onto his teammates, his hair a sweaty mess he doesn’t bother to fix. He’s so happy, and my nose stings. I suck in a sharp breath. A tear rolls down my cheek before I bat it away and pretend like it was never there.

“What a game!” Lainey says, snapping me back to reality. “That was incredible.”

I sniff and fan my face, trying to regain my composure. I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to see him so carefree and beautiful. I wasn’t ready for the exuberant joy bursting out of him as the camera zooms in on him slinging an arm around Ethan when they’re both back on their feet.

I wish I was there.

I wish he was hugging me.

“You okay?” Sienna asks, and I nod.

“I’m great. Just love watching good hockey, you know?”

“That was so fun. Next year it’ll be you on that screen, Amelia,” Lainey says.

“That’s the dream!” I say, all fake charm.

How can I be so happy for someone and so miserable at the same time?

“Now that the excitement is over, I’m heading out. Time to go see another professional athlete.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sienna says. “My dumb ass booked a six a.m. workout class tomorrow morning, which means I need to be asleep by nine if I want eight hours of sleep. Love you.” She gives me a hug. “Thanks for hosting us.”

“Of course. Send us your location, Lainey, so we know you’re safe,” I say.

“Will do.” Lainey kisses my cheek. “See you later this week.”

I clean up the living room and start the dishwasher. I take a shower and check my email before sliding into bed, my phone in my hands. I don’t know what I want to say to Grant, just that I should say something, and I tap my fingers against the edges of the screen.

Me