Page 17 of Cross Check

“Let’s play a game. Would you rather go to space or the depths of the ocean?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” she says.

“Mull it over and get back to me.”

“Space, I guess, because people have actually been there. The ocean terrifies me and is more of an unknown. Sea life shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“You get to ask a question now,” I say.

“I didn’t know this was an interrogation.” She pops a fry in her mouth and narrows her eyes. “If you weren’t playing professional hockey, what would you be doing with your life?”

“Heavy-hitting stuff. Forget asking if I sleep with socks on. This feels like the media training the team made me go through last year.”

“Do you sleep with socks on?”

“Yup. Go ahead and call me a monster.”

“I’d never.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “I wear socks to bed too.”

“Look at us. We’re two peas in a pod.” I drop my elbow on the metal table. “I studied biochemistry at FSU. If I wasn’t drafted, I was planning on applying to medical school.”

“Biochemistry? Holy shit. I had no idea you were so⁠—”

“Smart?” I smirk when she throws a balled-up napkin at me. “Thanks, Amelia.”

“No.” The huff she lets out is cute. “Unsure that you would be drafted.”

“I wanted to have a backup plan just in case. I did volunteer work in high school and college, and I’ve always liked helping people. Med school seemed like a good way to hold on to that.”

“That’s impressive. Goes back to our conversation about athletes being humans. You had a life before you became a public figure, and who knows? Maybe you’ll go to med school one day.”

“I could see myself working as an athletic trainer. What about you?” My foot accidentally knocks hers, and I change the angle of my knees so we’re not touching. “You have to answer the questions you ask.”

“You didn’t answer the space question!”

“I’d absolutely pick going to space. I’m from Florida, remember? I’ve seen the sharks and stingrays that live in the ocean. I’m not messing around with them.”

“Fine.” Amelia reaches for another fry, and I take a bite of my sandwich. “This sounds cliché, but I don’t see myself doing something other than being involved with hockey. The sport has been the biggest, most important part of my life. I wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.”

“When did you first learn to play?” I scoot my chair closer and stare at the small curve of her button nose, at the pieces of hair that curl at her ear. At her face, free of makeup. She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “Tell me your life story, Amelia Green.”

“My life story is pretty boring.” She wipes her hands clean then leans closer too. “I started playing hockey when I was four, and I was hooked right away. For as much as I loved being on the ice, I always thought I belonged in a role like coaching or scouting. When Wisconsin asked if I wanted to come back and be behind the bench, it was the easiest yes of my life.”

“I’m glad you bet on yourself. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have met. And you’re probably the best person I follow on social media.” I grin. “Even though you rarely post.”

“What?” Her laugh is light and easy. It sounds like my favorite song, the one I listen to while I get ready for a game. The one I drive an extra lap around the block for, just so I can hear it in its entirety. “You follow all your teammates. I’m sure they’re more entertaining than me.”

For as nonchalant as she’s trying to be, I have a feeling she is keeping tabs on me. Enough to know who I follow on social media, and I like it.

“My teammates are weirdos. Ethan has, like, eight accounts. Hudson posts his dogs. Liam’s only picture is of him throwing up his middle fingers at the camera. And Maverick’s photos are of him shirtless and showing off his tattoos. But… Huh.” I frown. “He hasn’t posted anything like that in months. Now it’s just team stuff.”

“Maybe he met someone.”

“If he did, it would have to be a girl who brings him down a few pegs. Greatest guy in the world. But, man. That ego is something else.” I grimace. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear about this. I’m sure you deal with enough gossip from your team.”

“I’ve heard my fair share of things I wish I could erase from memory. These days, the team treats me like I’m one of the guys.” Amelia takes a sip of her drink. Sweet tea, light ice. I commit it to memory. “Practically rolls off me.”

I don’t know how anyone could think of her as one of the guys. Not when she scoots back in her chair and leans into the sunshine peeking out from behind a clump of clouds. Not with her fair skin and the long eyelashes she bats closed then open.