Page 4 of Cross-Checked

Colt

You might want to explain that to AJ because she definitely muttered something under her breath about you not leading by example.

I never wanted to be the team captain. I prefer to lead quietly and not be the center of attention. Being captain has forced me into the spotlight in ways I’m not comfortable with. The only thing I want my teammates, the fans, and the media to focus on is how I play. Leading the team in a public way, that’s the dream for guys like Colt, who have a way of putting everyone at ease but can still light a fire under your ass when you need it. However, Colt’s a goalie, so he can’t wear theCon the ice.

When our previous captain retired a few years ago, I was already an alternate captain and the logical back-up choice. And while no one’s ever tried to make me feel like it should have been Colt in the first place, I know the only reason I have this distinction is because league rules prevent him from having it.

Every year I suggest maybe it’s time to give the honor to one of our alternate captains instead, but my team and management both seem to want me in the role. Honestly, I think they don’t want it to look like they’ve taken it away from me, even though I keep trying to step down.

McCabe

Will do. Thanks for letting me know.

I appreciate Colt warning me, because my contract is up at the end of the season, and I’m still in the negotiation phase with the Boston Rebels. This shit should have been settled long ago, but my agent, Trevor, and my general manager, AJ, couldn’t come to an agreement over my next contract.

According to Trevor, AJ insists that my salary demands are selfish and will prevent her from acquiring new players who will round out the team. But I’m one of the top-scoring players in the league, and I’m not takinglessfor my next contract than I got for my last one. When negotiations broke down, AJ left it atwe’ll revisit this at the end of the season.

So, right now, I can’t afford to look like I’m not invested, even though my mind is already made up to leave. Partly because management not settling my next contract during this season feels like a huge fuck you to the years I’ve spent here—years that pre-date AJ coming to Boston.

Unfortunately, I’ve worked for her almost my whole career—she was the assistant GM when I played for St. Louis, then she came to Boston a few years after I was traded here. Other players love her, but I just keep my head down and try to make sure she doesn’t screw me over again like she did years ago in St. Louis.

If we can’t come to an agreement after the playoffs, I’ll be an unrestricted free agent. Trevor is already talking to Nashville, and they’re interested. Signing with them could be perfect,because my sister lives there with my nieces. We’re the only family each other has, and now that we’re both single parents, we’ve been talking a lot about living in the same city.

I’d miss my teammates, many of whom are like brothers to me, but getting to see my daughter grow up with her cousins and having family around is worth more than what I’ve built here with the Rebels. I never thought I’d say that, but I guess fatherhood changes you.

My phone pings again as I step into the elevator, and I glance down at a text from Colt, followed immediately by another text from my nanny.

Colt

Hope Abby’s feeling better soon. Let us know if you need anything.

Lucy

Are you almost home?

I often get the sense that my nanny, Lucy, can’t wait to leave, and today is the perfect example. Abby is prone to fevers, so we’ve been to the pediatrician multiple times. The doctor always tells us that if there are no other symptoms and the fever doesn’t go above 102 degrees, Abby’s just fighting something off and we can relax and treat the fever with infant acetaminophen. But instead of following those orders, Lucy called me and insisted I come home.

She came with amazing references—the kind that are apparently too good to be true, since she’s proven to be flighty and unreliable.

At least this is just a summer gig. As soon as I know where I’m playing next season, my first order of business will be to find a new, more reliable nanny.

I glance back up as the elevator closes, and in the quickly diminishing space between the doors, I swear I see AJ walking into the lobby of my building. Her head is bent as she glances at her phone, but even across the wide marble space, and without seeing her face, I’m confident it’s her.

What the hell is my boss doing in my building?

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I wonder if she’s here to check up on me after I left the children’s hospital early.No, I assure myself,she’s not the kind to make house calls.And even if she were, we’re barely on speaking terms, so she’d know better than to show up at my door.

What the hell is she doing here, then?

My phone buzzes again as Lucy puts a question mark on the message she sent five seconds ago because, clearly, it’s taking me too long to respond.

McCabe

Yes, I’m almost home.

I resist the urge to add a snarky comment, which is exactly the kind of sarcasm I typically employ when I think someone is overreacting. But I need her to keep showing up until the end of our postseason, so I can’t afford to piss her off.

When the elevator doors open, I stride down the hall. My condo is at the end, the last door on the left. It’s a nice corner unit with walls of glass on one side, and floor-to-ceiling glass sliders leading out to a full-length balcony along the other.

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