Page 121 of Cross Check

An hour later, we’re on the balcony.

The table is covered in food boxes, and I hand Amelia silverware. She passes me a bottle of water, and all is right in the world.

“I might have gone overboard.” I scoot the mozzarella sticks so they’re between our plates. “Hope you’re ready to eat eight servings, Lia.”

“I, for one, love a reheated fried pickle.” She pops one in her mouth and smiles. “Was there anyone waiting outside your building?”

“Nope. Bryson, the lobby security guard, scared everyone away. He told reporters that if they come within fifty feet of the property, he’ll have them arrested for trespassing.”

“I need to remember to stay on Bryson’s good side.”

“Bring him some Airheads, and you’ll be his favorite person in the world.”

“Noted.” Amelia bites into her burger and sighs. “Jude, the head coach for the Goldminers, texted me about Riley. I didn’t share any private information with him. Just agreed when he said that if this had happened to one of his players, he’d go after the driver who hit them and make sure they paid for what they did.”

“Last night, all we cared about was Riley. Now that the dust has settled, I’m tempted to go down to the police station. I want to see if that fucker has posted bail, and I want to bash his face in.” I stop with a french fry halfway to my mouth. “That makes me sound like I’m violent and can’t regulate my anger, but I’m⁠—”

“I’d do the same.” Amelia puts her hand on my arm. “If someone hurt my best friends, it would unleash a very angry side of me too.”

“I know Riley is alive. I know he’ll walk again, but what about hockey? That’s his life. That’s all of our lives. Take that away from us, and what are we? A bunch of dumb jocks with drinking problems? His accident is making me reflect on what the hell I’m doing with my life. Am I even doing enough?”

“You’re doing more than enough, Grant. You’re someone’s hero. You’re an incredibly gifted athlete who volunteers in his community. You make a difference, and, yeah, it might be because you hit a puck, but that’s not all you’re good at.” She keeps her hand on me. I want a tattoo of what her fingers look like pressing into my skin. “There are ways to be involved in the sport without picking up a stick. Look at me; I’m not on the ice every night, and I love the game more now than I did when I played.”

“Really?” I ask.

“It’s a different kind of love, but, yeah. I do. There are going to be opportunities for Riley away from the ice. Scouting, coaching. And those positions are just as valuable and important as being a player.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“What?” Amelia snorts and grabs a container, taking out a pretzel bite. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. You’re so easy to talk to. I don’t have to be the strong guy who can’t show any emotion. I’m allowed to be a broken fucking mess.”

“Grant.” Her face softens. “You can be anything with me. Broken, totally mended. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere. The thing about being friends is we’re going to go through highs and lows. But we’ll find a way to the other side together.”

“I missed you,” I mumble. “I missed you so fucking much, Lia. I’m not allowed to miss you, but I did. Last night taught me life is too short, and I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

“I missed you too,” Amelia whispers. “I don’t ever want to go without talking again. You’re the best part of all of my days, Grant, and I hated being away from you.”

We don’t say much after that.

We don’t need to.

She’s still in my life, and that’s all I’ll ever need.

THIRTY-NINE

AMELIA

I’ve been in DC for three days, and I’m already dreading when I have to leave.

Every morning is better than the last. Grant is smiling more. Laughing. He even left the apartment last night with some of his teammates, and when he got back, I swear he looked like his old self.

Time is moving too fast, and I’m having too much fun with him. We’ve slipped into a routine; he wakes up before me, heading out for a run and getting back in time so we can have breakfast together. After we eat, we sit on the balcony. We only last an hour before the humidity sets in, but I listen to him point out landmarks. I contribute some obscure historical fact I’ve heard once upon a time, laughing when he tells me there’s no way it’s true. At night, we eat in his dining room, talking about everything from our childhoods and siblings to biggest pet peeves and what we would do if we won the lottery.

Things are easy with Grant. I like being around him. He makes me laugh, and I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this much. I climb into bed exhausted from being so happy, and I find myself wishing I could slow down time so I can stay longer.

I just wish he lived in a bigger apartment. Being in close quarters with him is bordering on torturous. I watch him peel his shirt off after a run. I see his muscles flex when he stretches his back. I hear his shower running while I’m in bed, my mind dangerously imagining what he might be doing down the hall behind a closed door.