Page 85 of Cross Check

We barely get through the rest of the meal without being hit by another round of giggles. He’s unabashed with his display of emotion, not afraid to drop his head back and laugh with his whole body. It’s comfortable, familiar, and by the time I finish my food, my stomach muscles hurt.

“I know what your plan is, Everett.” I wipe my fingers and toss my napkin on my empty plate. “You wanted me to stuff my face so you could have the advantage on the ice.”

“If that was the plan, why did I push myself to the point of nausea?” He drapes an arm over the chair next to his. “I’m going to need a wheelbarrow to get me to the rink.”

“Remind me why your idea of a day off consists of doing the thing you do every other day of your life?”

“Because I don’t want to make a fool of myself in Madison Square Garden next month. The other guys in the Skills event are great players, and I’d really like it if I didn’t get my ass kicked on national television.”

“You can’t forget the prize money,” I say. “The Skills event winner gets a million bucks.”

“A nice perk,” he agrees. “But the pride would mean more. Getting the chance to make a name for myself as someone other than that guy who plays behind Maverick Miller on the Stars would be fun.”

“Well, Grant Everett.” I stand and bring our plates to the sink. When I glance at him over my shoulder, his eyes jump from my backside to my face. Crimson floods his cheeks, and I pretend like I didn’t see him checking me out the way I did to him not too long ago. “We better get to work.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

GRANT

After a pitstop at Amelia’s hotel so she can change into something comfortable, I scan my team ID outside the practice facility.

“Are any of your teammates joining us?” She cranes her neck and looks around the parking lot. “Am I going to have to explain why I’m in DC when I should be in Baltimore?”

“Nope. The guys are enjoying their days off. Coach’s office is at the arena, and the media isn’t allowed here.” I put my hand on the back of her seat as I pull into my usual spot. “This will be our secret.”

“Good to know.” Amelia’s shoulders relax, and she unbuckles her seatbelt. “We might be on your home ice, but I always bring my lucky skates with me on road trips.” She hops out of the car, taking her black skates with her. Bauer Vapor FlyLites, with red laces to match the Goldminers’ colors. I wonder how long she’s had them. “This is going to be fun.”

“Damn.” I jog up the stairs and swipe my ID again, holding the door open for her. “You’re competitive about everything.”

“I’ve always been this way.” There’s a softness to her admission. Embarrassment in the dip of her chin as she falls in step beside me in the empty hallway. “I’ve tried to turn it off and be casual about things, but it hasn’t worked very well.”

“Fuck that. I’m a big believer in loudly loving what makes you happy. If people want to make fun of you, that’s on them.”

“That’s one of the reasons I like spending time with you.” Her arm brushes mine. One touch, and I swear I need to be resuscitated. “You never make me feel like I have to change who I am.”

“Never,” I reaffirm, nudging her side. “Be competitive as you want with me, Amelia. I can handle it.”

Her smile is warm when she sits next to me on the bench, scooting over so she can stretch out her legs. We lace up our skates and I grab some stick options for her to choose from. She surprises me when she goes with the CCM JetSpeed FT5, a heavier stick than the Bauer VaporLite I use that matches her skates.

I’m going to need to start a new notebook to keep track of all the hockey gear she likes, and I snap a quick photo of what she picked so I can jot it down later.

“Are you going lefty or righty today?” Amelia pulls her hair up into a ponytail so it’s out of her face. “And what are you going to do in New York?”

“Righty. Always feels more natural.” I chuck fifteen pucks across the ice and step away from the bench. “I’m not trying to be an asshole with this question, but you know how the Skills event runs, yeah?”

“There are a couple rounds, right? And it ends with an obstacle course.” She follows me on the ice with easy movements. “What events are you hoping to get?”

“Fastest skater, stick handling, one-timers, and the passing challenge. I’m decent enough at all of those to put up a good showing. If I get stuck with the hardest shot challenge, I’m fucked. My power could use some work.”

“Weak wrists, most likely.” Amelia taps her stick against a nearby puck. She slides her blade under it, lifting it with a toss before catching it back on her blade. “A slap shot would be your best bet.”

“My least favorite.” I scoop up my own puck, mimicking her. “Each target in the passing drill is worth different points.”

“Do you have anything to use for the targets today?”

“We have some cones. Those should work.” I skate back to our stuff and take my time to warm up my legs. I reach over the boards, grabbing six cones and setting them up on their sides at various spots on the ice with the opening facing us. “I know you’re strong as hell, but we can keep the intensity relaxed to start.”

“You’re asking me to hold back?” She taps a puck before launching it straight at a target and sinking it perfectly. “I don’t like having to dim my shine for anyone, Everett.”