Page 1 of Cross-Checked

Chapter One

AJ

“And what do we think about the rumors that Alessandra Jones, general manager for the Boston Rebels, may be a finalist for the GM of the Year award?” The voice of Ted Deveney, one of the country’s most beloved sportscasters, has my head snapping up from the contract I’m reviewing. Now, with my heart pounding, my attention is entirely focused on the TV on the opposite side of my office.

“I’d say it’s long overdue,” Stefanie Flowers, Ted’s co-host, responds, and I let out a small sigh of relief. “She’s taken that organization from consistently breaking the hearts of their fans, to consistently being one of the top teams in the entire league.”

“That’s true,” Ted says, his trademark white mustache flattening into a straight line as his lips curve up and he chuckles.

“Division champions four out of the six years she’s been GM, conference champions twice, and Stanley Cup champions once. I’d say she’s earnedat leastthis nomination, if not the actual award.”

As one of the few female sportscasters covering the NHL on the national level, I’m thrilled that Stefanie is showing the same passion I have about seeing a female GM do well.

“And,” Ted adds, “with one win already under their belt in this second round of playoffs, and Boston basically outperforming Carolina in every way, I’d say they’re off to a good start securing a fifth division championship.”

“We’ll see what happens in Game 2 tomorrow night, and then as Boston heads down to Carolina later this week,” Stefanie says. “With most of their lineup already in place for next year, and minimal changes in the roster, the team really seems to be jelling.”

“The latest news from the Rebels is that Aidan Renaud will be coming off the IR in time for next season.”

“I’m sure they’re excited about getting Renaud back. But the question remains,” she says, and I groan internally, because I already know where this is going, “whether Ronan McCabe will be staying next year.”

“Sounds like a classic case of a star player and his team not being able to agree on what he’s worth,” Ted says, an air of nonchalance in his voice.

“Well, we’re all eager to see how that works out. It’s hard to imagine the Rebels without McCabe leading them, but we’re also hearing rumors that he may be interested in potentially moving to another team.”

I can feel my nostrils flare. Given that we haven’t reached an agreement, I know his agent must be starting to look at other teams. But the fact that we’re still in season and he’s not being more discreet about it pisses me off. And we haven’t reached the free agency interview period yet, so no actual conversations should be happening.

Sometimes, it feels like McCabe wants to leave. The number of times he’s tried to step down from being captain, and hisobvious distaste for me, make it seem like he has one foot out the door and is just waiting for me to beg him to stay. And I’m not the type to do that, no matter how good he is.

“They still have a few weeks to come to an agreement, but it’ll be interesting to see if that happens, or if McCabe becomes an unrestricted free agent,” Ted adds.

“Yeah, interesting is one word for it. If he continues to perform in the playoffs as well as he has all season, it would be crazy for the Rebels to let one of their star players go. But I personally can’t wait for this round of playoffs to conclude, so we’ll finally know who those GM of the Year finalists are.”

“You holding out for the first female nomination in the history of professional hockey?”

Stefanie’s smile is broad as the camera zooms in on her. “You know it, Ted. I think we’re watching history unfold.”

The knots in my stomach tighten, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. I want to relish this moment, when the nation’s most well-known hockey sportscasters are talking about my success, but all I feel is the overwhelming pit of dread at the thought of letting people down.

Straightening my spine, I remind myself that Frank Hartmann, owner of the Rebels, took a huge risk bringing me to Boston six seasons ago—and all he’s ever asked of me is that I rebuild this organization with players who care about our fans and bring home the Cup. He didn’t ask for me to win awards, he asked me to focus on the team. Doing that may have made me a stand-out GM, but this has never been about me. It’salwaysbeen about the team.

I relax my shoulders and open my eyes, almost jumping out of my seat at the sight of my Director of Marketing and Communications, Lauren, standing on the other side of my desk.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I ask as I exhale the breath that just caught in my throat.

One of her arms is folded as it holds her laptop against her chest, and the other reaches to pull out a chair. “I assume that’s a rhetorical question,” she says with a laugh as she sinks into the seat across from me, “since you put this meeting on my calendar.”

“But I didn’t even hear you sneak in,” I tell her as I pick up the remote on my desk and mute the TV.

“Yeah. You were so focused on that amazing news coverage that you didn’t notice me knock at your open door or walk in here.”

I let out a tight laugh, and Lauren raises her eyebrow in response.

“You okay?” she asks.

Pressing my lips together, I nod. “Never been better.”

Lauren looks at me like she sees right through thisthe pressure doesn’t bother mecharade. And she probably does. Over the last year and a half that she’s worked for me, she’s gradually become my best friend as well. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

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