Page 3 of Cross-Checked

“Fine like mediocre? Or fine like high quality?” Lauren’s auburn eyebrows, a couple shades darker than her hair, scrunch together as she looks over to Frank, who’s taken the seat next to her.

“Which do you think?” His pale eyes practically dance with amusement above his rounded cheeks. The man is an absolute teddy bear.

“Definitely high quality,” Lauren says with a decisive nod.

“You would be correct. Now, we have a bit of an issue that I need y’all to deal with in the quickest and most professional way possible.” He glances between us. “We’ve had three fights break out in the stands during the playoffs. In every instance, security footage shows that it was our fans, wearing our players’ jerseys, that started each altercation. I know people get excited and tensions are high, but we don’t want Boston fans to be known as aggressive shit-starters any more than we want our players to have that kind of reputation.”

“So you want us to . . .” Lauren drags the word out. “. . . change the fans’ behavior?”

“I want you to figure out how this organization can show the fans that this behavior isn’t acceptable, without coming off as preachy or heavy-handed,” Frank says.

Lauren sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. Fighting is part of the game, and I know immediately that she’s thinking it would be pretty hypocritical for a hockey team to tell its fans that fighting is wrong.

“Okay,” I say decisively, because Frank wants solutions. “We’ll take care of it.”

“How?” he asks, as Lauren turns to me with the same question in her eyes.

“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “But off the top of my head, it seems like it would be easy to get a friendly reporter to lob a softball question about this to one of our players during post-game press, and then have the player remind fans that the only fighting that belongs at our games is on the ice.”

“Make sure it’s McCabe,” Frank says.

“Whyhim?” The question bursts out of me, followed by a laugh. Of all the players on the team, no one is less likely to engage in friendly banter with reporters, or ask fans to leave the fighting to the professionals on the ice, than McCabe.

“He’s the team captain,” Frank says as he stands and shoves his hands in his pockets, clearly done with this conversation. “It needs to come from him.”

It takes everything I have not to push back on this, not to tell Frank that there are other players who are just as respected by the fans and far more likely to help us out with this.

“Understood,” I say as he turns to head out the door. Because when your billionaire boss writes your very hefty paychecks and mostly leaves you alone to do your job however you want, you don’t question him when he asks for something minor. Even when you know it’s just going to make your life more difficult.

Lauren leans back in her chair, looking relaxed for the first time since Frank walked into the office. “Want me to talk to McCabe?”

I look at the ceiling as I bite the inside of my cheek. Everyone knows that McCabe and I have a contentious relationship on the best of days, but it’s grown even more tense this season because his contract is up and he’s making ridiculous demands for us to keep him. Still, I’m his boss, so I can put on my big girl pants and tell him what he needs to do.

“No, it’s fine.” I shake my head, glancing over toward the wall of glass overlooking the practice rink. “It should come from me. Just let me know who the reporter will be, and I’ll tell him what the plan is before our next home game.”

Chapter Two

McCabe

Colt

Where the hell did you go? AJ was looking for you, and I didn’t know what to tell her.

Shit.When my nanny called me to say that my daughter was running a fever and I needed to come home right away, I didn’t even think twice about leaving the children’s hospital our hockey team partners with, where a few of us were visiting with sick kids this afternoon.

Since finding out I was a dad nine months ago, Abby has been my first priority.

I never would have imagined that my ex-girlfriend would just show up and dump a baby I didn’t know about into my arms, claiming that motherhood would get in the way of her acting career. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t act for shit, and had never landed a role outside of a commercial here or there—Jenna was naive enough to believe that she was destined to be a star, and selfish enough to not let anything stand in her way.

But from the moment I held Abby in my arms, there was no question that, for her, I’d be the best dad I could be. The second she wrapped those impossibly tiny fingers around my thumb,her big eyes staring up at me, she carved herself right into my soul. I knew at that moment, with Jenna still standing in my entryway before she turned and fled, that I’d love and protect Abby, even if it was us against the world.

Balancing hockey season and single-fatherhood was hard enough, but lately, with the pressures of the playoffs, I feel like I’m failing more often than I’m succeeding.

McCabe

Abby’s sick, I had to head home.

I type out the message as I wait for the elevator in the lobby of my building, willing it to hurry the hell up so I can get upstairs and see what’s wrong with my daughter.

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