Page 261 of Cross Check

“No. No. I’m sorry.” I cough, knowing this man is notorious for being a grouch. “I wasn’t expecting the costume, and I’m caught off guard.”

“He has a tail,” Grant whispers, and Liam narrows his gaze.

“I told you to stop talking about my ass, Everett. If I see an internet rumor that mentions any fetishes that I might have, I’m going to blame you.” The goalie tilts his head. “Keep your man in line, Green,” he scoffs, turning on his heel and walking away.

I see the tail attached to the back of his jeans, and I lose it all over again.

“That made the whole night worth it,” I say, scooting across the table so I can take Grant’s spot. A rogue giggle sneaks out of me. “I can’t even be mad about his comment.”

“What comment?” Grant gets his tattoos wrapped by an assistant, thanking her with a smile. “I’m definitely drunk now, and I didn’t hear anything.”

“Telling me to keep my man in line.” I hold out my wrist and flinch when the needle touches my skin. I’m not sober, but I’m not drunk enough to not feel pain. “Sounds like he wants me to put you on a leash.”

“We’ll go buy one tomorrow,” he slurs, accepting another drink from Ethan as he passes by. “How about pink? It’ll match my crop tops.”

When I bite my bottom lip to stop from whimpering at the prick of the needle, Grant is there. He’s holding my free hand and letting me squeeze his fingers hard enough to break, not complaining about the pain.

“Tell me about your worst injury,” he says, voice steadier than a few seconds ago. “Have you ever taken a puck to the mouth?”

“No, but I did take a puck to the shoulder. I was out for one game, and I’m lucky I didn’t fracture anything. What about you?”

“The puck that hit me in the head was probably the worst thing I’ve had to deal with, and that’s not bad over the course of my career. But I’d take that hit again.”

“Really? Do you like being in pain?”

“No.” He licks his thumb. He drags it down my cheek, cleaning up some of my smudged makeup. “That was the night you came to my place because you were worried about me, and it kickstarted all of this.” He gestures between us. “I’d be an idiot to not want to relive that.”

“And look at us now.” I glance down at the seven new stars on my body and smile. “We’re inseparable.”

Grant tips the tattoo artist and gets me another drink. He drunkenly explains how we have to take care of the wounds and for how long, and I nod along to his instructions.

The night stretches on with dancing and beer pong and Ethan trying to get a game of strip poker going. We slip out after that, catching two Ubers back to our house in the suburbs. We shower and climb into bed where I nestle in his arms. I fall asleep to the thought of next Halloween, an eighth star, and an hourglass that never runs out.

EIGHTY-TWO

GRANT

DECEMBER, THIS SEASON

“Everyone excited for Heroes and Legends Night?” I ask the locker room after an easy afternoon practice. “We should all wear our favorite athlete’s jersey.”

“I forget the rules. Do they have to be a hockey player?” Connor asks, chucking his helmet in his stall. “Can I rock some NBA gear?”

“I don’t think there are any rules.” I unlace my skates and yank them off. “Wear whatever you want, C-Mac.”

“I’m proud of you for taking initiative, G.” Hudson sits beside me with his jersey that boasts the C for captain. “In two years, you’re going to have complete control of this team.”

“Don’t say that. Maverick already retired, and I don’t want you to leave me too, Huddy Boy.”

“It’s going to happen eventually.” He pats my knee. “But I’ll always be around.”

“Can we knock it off with the emotional stuff?” Ethan asks. “I don’t like to be sad, and all this talk about retirement has me very sad.”

“Sorry, E. We’ll keep it only to smiles and good news.” I throw a roll of tape at him and grin when it nicks his shoulder. “The themed night is perfectly timed with the PWHL announcing their expansion teams.”

“Including one in DC,” Connor adds. “The bar is high for them. Every professional sports team in this city has won a championship. They’ll have to do the same so they can join the ranks.”

“What are you doing tonight, G?” Ethan asks, stripping down to his compression shorts. “Want to go to the bar and scout out some girls? I could use a wingman.”