Page 55 of Cross-Checked

“Good luck tonight,” she says, putting a hand on my hip and pushing me toward the door.

I glance over my shoulder as I walk away, trying to memorize what she looks like sitting there in her shorts and a Rebels t-shirt, hair a mess and still looking half-asleep. God, I could get used to this view.

When I peek through the viewfinder, I don’t see anyone, so I pat my pocket to make sure I still have my room key, then crack the door open and peek out. Walsh definitely isn’t standing there anymore, so I swing the door to AJ’s room open and take a step across the hallway to my door. And as I hold the keycard up to the reader, I peer down the hallway by the alcove for the elevators—and that’s when I see Walsh, standing there watching me.

Isink into a stretch on the ice right next to Walsh. Too close to him, if I’m being honest, but I’d like our conversation to remain private. “That wasn’t what it looked like, this morning.”

Around us, the stands are starting to fill in with the fans here to watch warmups. I’ve been trying to talk to Walsh all day,but he’s clearly avoiding me. He’s like our team dad, and I hate feeling like I’ve disappointed him.

“Oh yeah? What did it look like?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. Probably like I was shacking up with some chick in the hotel last night, and that’s why I was late for practice?”

He gives me the side-eye but doesn’t say anything.

“That’s not what happened,” I insist.

“So what did happen, exactly?”

I thought long and hard today about what I wanted to tell Walsh, and Grandma’s words kept running through my mind:Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.I can’t be fully honest with him, but the less I lie, the easier it will be to keep track of my story. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything.

I glance around to make sure we’re not within earshot of anyone else. “First of all, that was AJ’s hotel room.”

His mouth hangs open, and he seems to have forgotten how to form words.

“Again, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Good to know. So, whatisit then?”

“I’m just helping her out because she hurt herself protecting Abby at the last game. With her dominant hand unusable, there’s a lot she can’t do. Like lift and open her suitcase, for example. Since I happened to be across the hall from her, I was just helping.”

“Oh yeah, and what did she need this morning?” he asks. The tone of the question implies that he doesn’t believe that whatever’s going on is platonic. Which is fair, since from my perspective, anyway, it’s not.

“She couldn’t get the ironing board set up with one hand.” This feels like a realistic reason she’d need someone with twofunctioning hands to help her, and it’s a small lie that I can keep track of.

“Who uses a fucking iron these days?” Walsh asks with a laugh.

“You’ve seen her, right? I assume that’s why her suits look that crisp even on the road.”

“I can’t even imagine seeing her not looking all buttoned up,” Walsh says. Until a few days ago, neither could I.

She’s such a rock-solid figure in this organization. But I’m learning that her tough exterior isn’t all there is to her. Now, I practically live for those moments where she’s casual, relaxed, and more open than I’m used to seeing her.

And then, there was last night. Holding her while she cried after opening up to me about her failed marriage—it broke something in me, too.

If the feeling was just physical attraction, I could deny myself what I want with her like I’ve always done. But now?

Now that I know she’s not just stunning and great with my daughter, but she’s also vulnerable—she’s suffered, loved and lost and, most importantly, is willing to be open with me about it? Whatever lock I was keeping on my feelings has fully broken open.

“Yeah,” I say, the word clipped. “It’s hard to imagine that she doesn’t wake up with her makeup on and her hair done, and wearing a perfectly pressed suit. Maybe she’s human after all.”

Walsh’s laugh is more like an annoyed huff. “Given the way you’ve always treated her, it’s not a huge surprise that you thought she was some sort of professional robot or something.”

I’m about to ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean when I realize that he’s right. I never hid my dislike very well. “Yeah, well, I can admit when I’m wrong.”

Walsh nods as he rises so that he’s standing over me. “Good. Now let’s try to win this game without you rushing off the ice atthe end.” He pokes me in the shoulder with his stick and gives me a nod of his chin to indicate he’s just giving me shit. “Okay?”

“Yeah. It’s time we turn this series around.” And when we head back to the locker room after warmups, that’s exactly what I tell my teammates. I say all the things I should have said last time AJ asked me to talk to them. I give them the pep talk they need from their captain instead of the few grumbled words I normally say.

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