Page 127 of Cross Check

“Oh my god.” Amelia laughs. “I don’t think this friendship is going to work.”

“All those years gone over the definition of a sandwich and pizza toppings.” I sigh and toss a pepperoni in my mouth. “We had a good run.”

We grab soft serve after we finish our pizza, sitting on a bench while the ice cream melts down our hands.

“I’m afraid to ask this given your pizza topping answer, but what’s the best ice cream flavor?” She wraps a napkin around her soggy cone. “Please don’t tell me it’s pistachio.”

“Cookies and cream,” I say. “But we read a dark romance for book club that kind of ruined the flavor for me, so I’ve ventured over to peanut butter cup.”

“Cookies and cream is my favorite too, but I’m concerned by the book you all read.”

“Probably best if you don’t ask questions.” I flash her a grin. “It was a great book, by the way. I’d recommend it.”

“Give me the title later, and I’ll look it up. We can be virtual book club buddies.” Amelia licks the soft serve, and I look at the ground instead of her tongue. “Fuck. I love food.”

“Talk to me about cheese curds. Are they worth the hype?”

“This might get my Midwest residency revoked, but no. I don’t think they are.”

“Amelia Green.” I drop my voice low. “I’m telling everyone that you’re a phony Wisconsinite.”

“That’s not even a word.” She nudges me with a giggle. “And I’ll deny everything!”

We stroll around the neighborhood after we eat dessert and find an outdoor flea market. Amelia stops at a table with matchbooks, sorting through hundreds of them until she picks out three.

“A hobby of yours?” I ask after she pays.

“Yeah. I started it when I was on a travel team. I wanted to keep track of all the places where we played, and it followed me to adulthood.” She holds up one of the matchbooks that has a martini on the front. When she opens it, each match is sitting in a holder that looks like a bottle of alcohol. “Now I try to find unique designs.”

“Do you do anything with the matchbooks?”

“I have a large glass jar in my home office where I keep all of them.” Amelia pulls out her phone and taps through her photos. “I’m not great with interior design, but I like how they look. They’re also a great conversation starter.”

“That’s awesome, Lia. I’ll keep my eyes peeled when I’m on the road next season and see if I can find any cool ones to add to your collection.”

“Do you collect anything?”

“No, but I do have a tradition after every season. I frame our team photo and put it on my shelf.” We move to the next table, and I touch a tarnished picture frame that will be perfect. I hand over cash to the vendor, smiling when he tucks it safely in a bag. “Five years in the league, and we all look totally different. I don’t recognize myself in those rookie photos.”

“Do you have a favorite teammate?” Amelia asks.

“Do you have a favorite player you coach?”

“No,” she says without hesitation, but she takes a second to think about it. “Okay, yes. But it’s only because they work the hardest and put in effort not everyone else does. I don’t allow myself to treat them any differently.”

“I love all the guys I play with, but there’s a smaller group of us who are closer than the rest. Now, with Riley’s accident and everything… It’s hitting me that we’ll never have that lineup again. Sure, we’ll find someone to fill the spot, but it won’t be the same. And in a couple of years, Maverick will retire. He and Emmy want to start a family. Hudson and Liam are the next oldest on the team, and I think this is the beginning of the end. Soon it’s just going to be me, Ethan, and Connor. It’s sad to think about.”

“The end is inevitable. Nothing can last forever, and all you can do is savor the moments you have left.”

I hold that tight to my chest as the sun starts to set and we head back to my car. We drive east with the windows down. Amelia’s hair blows in the wind, and she relaxes as we leave the city behind.

“Where are we?” She cranes her neck then looks at her phone. “We aren’t near your apartment, are we?”

“Nope. Welcome to Wolf Trap. It’s the only national park dedicated to the performing arts.”

“Whoa. It’s gorgeous! Look at the trees! Are we just driving through, or is there a band playing tonight?”

“There is a band playing tonight.” I fight off a smile. “This is your surprise.”