Page 7 of Cross Check

“I’m fine.” I try to pick up my helmet, but I drop it on the floor. “Nerves.”

“You’re a good player, Grant. Go out there and do what you do every night: work hard, have fun. Give all your effort, and you can be proud of yourself.”

“That’s true.” I nod, not very reassured. “I appreciate you.”

“I know it can be stressful. There is constant attention on us. Money is involved, and fans want to see us perform a certain way. When I get overwhelmed, I stop and remember I get to do this; I’m not forced to pick up a hockey stick. What a gift to play the greatest sport on earth with some of your best friends, huh?”

“You’re right.” My smile comes more naturally. “That’s a great point. Thanks for always making me feel better, Huddy Boy.”

“It’s go time, boys,” Maverick calls out, and we form a circle around him. “Teamwork on three. One, two, three!”

“Teamwork,” we yell.

We trudge out to the tunnel, and the lights from the arena come into focus. The noise of twenty thousand screaming fans loosens my shoulders. I relax with every step, and by the time I get on the ice, I’m grinning.

The Goldminers are at their end of the rink, and I sneak a glance at their bench. When I do, I spot Amelia standing with two men, nodding along while they’re deep in conversation.

I try my best not to stare, but she’s too damn beautiful.

Subtlety has never been my strong suit, and Amelia must notice my gawking because she lifts her head. She scans the ice before her gaze settles on me. When it does, her lips twitch with a smile.

I want to wave, but I keep both hands on my stick, offering her a nod in return.

Composed, mature, and not breaking any of her rules.

Go me.

“See someone cute in the stands?” Ethan asks.

“Hm?” I accept a pass from Riley and tap the puck twice with my blade. “Yup. Cute.”

“Which one is she?” He cranes his neck, searching the crowd. “That brunette three rows up? She’s hot.”

“Sure. That’s her.” I look back over my shoulder. Amelia isn’t paying attention to me anymore, but she noticed me for a second, and that feels important. “Let’s have fun out there, E.”

Two and a half hours later, after a grueling back and forth matchup that saw no goals until halfway through the third period when Maverick took over, we sneak out a win.

My teammates head for the locker room and dole out high fives. They talk about where they’re going to eat when we land in Dallas tomorrow, but I linger behind.

I watch Coach Saunders talk to Amelia near the home team’s bench. She uses her hands when she speaks, all animated and bold. He gives her his full attention, even laughing at something she says.

They end their conversation with a handshake. Coach moves toward the locker room, and I take the opportunity to skate back onto the ice. I pretend like I’m heading for Piper Mitchell, our media coordinator, but I make a hard left before I reach her so I’m in front of the Goldminers’ bench.

“Hey,” I say, and Amelia looks up from the gear she’s gathering.

“Grant Everett, right?” she asks, and I unbuckle my helmet with a grin.

She remembered my name.

“That’s me. Nice game tonight.”

“Did you come over here to gloat?”

“Nah. Just wanted to say hi and let you know I follow you on social media.”

“Sorry, but I’m not going to return the favor. Conflict of interest and all.” She tilts her head and stares at me. “You’re not afraid of someone finding out I’m on the short list of people you follow?”

“No.” Knowing she chose to look at my social media pages has me standing straighter and puffing out my chest. “I follow plenty of women athletes on social media. You’re not the first.”