Page 166 of Cross Check

A few minutes later, the game resumes, but my heart isn’t in it anymore. I can’t stop thinking about Grant and how seriously he might be injured, and I leave the arena with the vase of flowers and the note he wrote me while desperately worrying about the man I adore most in the world.

FIFTY-TWO

AMELIA

I check every hockey site in existence for an update on Grant.

I refresh social media pages hoping for new information. I pace around my hotel room in a pair of sweatpants, a knot in my stomach until my phone finally lights up with an incoming call. Grant’s name scrolls across the screen, and I nearly tumble over the couch to answer.

“Hello?” I say, my voice shaking around the word.

“Lia,” he says, and my eyes well with tears.

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m home. Had to get a bunch of tests done. It’s not fun when people poke and prod you.”

He groans from the other end of the line. “Besides being sore and wondering what the hell everyone is freaking out about, I’m fine.”

“I’m coming over,” I say, grabbing my purse before I can consider the repercussions of what I’m about to do. “I want to check on you. I want to see you.”

“The concussion tests were negative, and my spine is in great shape. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health.” Grant pauses. “Do you really want to see me?”

“More than I want anything else in the world.”

“You’re welcome at my place whenever you want.” His voice melts to a gentle murmur. “Come on over, Lia.”

Thirty-five minutes later, my Uber pulls up in front of Grant’s building. My body is hot with anticipation on the elevator ride to his floor. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff with a steep drop, but I can’t bring myself to back away.

Not when I’ve come this far.

I knock and shift on my feet until he opens the door. When he does, I throw my arms around his neck. He puts his hands on my back, his large palms splayed out and running up my spine. For the first time in hours, I take a deep breath. My exhale is the biggest sigh of relief, and I offer up my silent gratitude to the universe for making sure he’s safe.

“You’re okay,” I whisper into the soft fabric of his shirt. “You’re really okay.”

“Hey.” Grant’s nose bumps my ear, his body going from ridged to relaxed. “Why the tears, Lia?”

“I was worried about you. Do you have any new symptoms? Are you nauseous? Can you remember what day it is?”

“I’d never disappear on you.” He tugs me into his apartment and shuts the door. The deadbolt clicks in place, and I pull away to steal a glance at him. “No new symptoms, and it’s Friday.” He puts a palm on my waist, holding me there. “Which means you had your interview today, and I want to know how it went.”

“You were carted off the ice on a spinal board, Grant.” I touch his cheek, right where a pink mark sits. “We don’t need to talk about me right now.”

“We always need to talk about you.” Grant takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. He leads me down the hall, and when we reach the door to his bedroom, he opens it. The lighting is low, the curtains are drawn. He sits on the mattress and pulls me with him. Our knees touch. He’s pressed right against me, still holding my hand as he says, “Sorry. Is it okay that we’re in here? We can go to the living room if you⁠—”

“This is perfect.”

“The interview. I want to hear all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

“I started with a tour of the arena,” I say. “I’ve never seen a facility like it—it reminded me of a college football stadium. There was a cafeteria for the players and a weight room bigger than most league locker rooms. After, I met with Darcy, the owner of the Sea Crabs. She’s a powerhouse. Her vision for the team is so clear, and she offered me a job right then and there.”

“Holy shit.” Grant squeezes my hand tight. “Are you serious? Lia. That’s a big fucking deal.”

“I’m still trying to process it, to be honest. The salary is unbelievable. Her five-year plan is perfectly laid out. I haven’t had a chance to look over everything in detail, but I had a strong feeling of clarity when I was with her. She believes in me, and it made me proud.”

“If you took the job, you’d be in Baltimore.” Grant lights up and drops his hand to my thigh. Casual, and without a second thought. God. It feels so right. “We could hang out every week.”

“Please.” I laugh. “You’d get sick of me so fast.”