Page 17 of Cross-Checked

Idon’t know what I expected when Charlie texted me to say, “I need you in the locker room,” but it wasn’t twenty grown men singing nursery rhymes at the top of their lungs.

Pausing for a moment outside the door, I let out the giggles that are rising up at the horribly off-key rendition of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” There’s no way I’m walking in there with a smile on my face—not when the team is supposed to be on the ice for warmups, but is instead...I don’t even know? Reverting to childhood revelry?

When I push open that door, I’m greeted by the uniformed backs of my players, who are standing shoulder to shoulder in a circle. They’re lightly bouncing up and down on their skates, and they’re all doing the hand gestures as they sing “...down came the rain and washed the spider out!”

I push between two of the players, and my presence inside the circle has a hush gradually falling over the team. The last man singing is Colt, who looks like a giant standing at least six and a half feet tall with his skates on. He’s got one arm across his stomach with a baby girl sitting on his forearm facing out, and he’s holding her back against his chest with his opposite hand.

The minute the singing stops, she bursts into tears.

“Ahhh, come on, AJ,” Luke Hartmann says, “we just got her to stop crying.”

I want to laugh at the ridiculous scene in front of me. When Charlie texted me, I figured something must be wrong. I never expected that the boys were too busy babysitting to take the ice. So I keep my voice slow and deliberate when I ask, “Why is there a baby in the locker room?”

The far side of the circle parts, and Ronan McCabe sits at his locker stall, bent over and lacing up his skates. His head snaps up, and he uses one hand to brush back the tendrils of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

When our eyes meet, he doesn’t look anything like the angry, annoyed man I normally see. He looks more like the college kid I drafted back in St. Louis—the kid with bright green eyes and a cocky smirk, who walked onto his D1 hockey team and ended up getting drafted to the pros his junior year—than the pro-hockey player who’s spent the past eight years hating me.

He looks . . . lost.

As he bites his lower lip, I can’t take my eyes off him, and I can’t stop wishing he hadn’t just done that. I don’t want to notice that full lip or the row of perfectly straight teeth sinking into it. I don’t want to notice the way his eyes heat when he looks at me, or the way they sweep from my face down my body and back up again so quickly I’m not sure it actually happened. Because Ronan McCabe hasn’t looked at me with this lost puppy dog look in averylong time, and the last time he did, it ruined my marriage and almost ruined his career.

Silence stretches on for a few seconds too long as we stand there staring at each other.

Then his adorable daughter lets out a real wail, and he stands quickly, rushing over to her. As he holds her tenderly, snuggling her against his chest and shushing her as he bounces lightly on his skates, I wish I wasn’t seeing this side of him either.

Because the hard, resentful man who’s played for me the past six years is easy to boss around and easy to dismiss. But seeing this human side of him that reminds me of who he used to be? This isn’t going to be good for either of us.

“Again,” I say once the baby has settled down. “Can someone explain why there’s a baby in the locker room? And why you’re all in here when you’re supposed to be on the ice for warmups?”

Charlie clears his throat, but when I look at him, he’s watching McCabe standing there, bouncing his baby in his arms.

As my eyes track over to our captain, he says, “My nanny didn’t show up tonight.”

The other guys stay silent, watching this stare down between us.

“After making you late for our flight in the last series, and now not showing up, she’s sounding more and more like someone who shouldn’t be responsible for a baby.”

“Which is why she isn’t my nanny anymore.”

“So, what is the plan for your daughter during this game?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest..

He clears his throat and shrugs. “I haven’t gotten that far. But I couldn’t exactly leave her home alone.”

“Obviously,” I say, unable to resist rolling my eyes. “Alright, give her here, and get your asses out on the ice.”

“What?” His head rears back in shock, like I’m the last person he’d leave his baby with.

“I’ll take care of her,” I assure him.

“I’m not expecting you to watch her while I play.”

“Well, someone has to,” I say, looking around. “And every other person in this room needs to be on that bench tonight. So unless you don’t want to play, hand her over.”

He eyes me dubiously.

“Alright,” Charlie says loudly. “Everyone else on the ice while McCabe and AJ work this out.”

“You good?” Drew asks McCabe from beside him, which makes me wonder if he’s afraid to leave the two of us alone in a room together. That thought has a laugh slipping out—because if they only knew—and twenty-three sets of eyes settle on me.

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