Page 207 of Cross Check

SIXTY-THREE

AMELIA

JUNE, TWO SEASONS AGO

“Here’s hoping apartment thirteen is the lucky one.” Emmy squints at the modern building. The white exterior and navy blue doors give me more hope than any of the other units we toured. “Maybe?”

“This place has windows. We’re off to a better start,” I say.

I take an optimistic breath and hold the door open for her. We’re greeted by an air-conditioned lobby with bright lights. The man behind the concierge desk smiles our way, and we veer in his direction.

“How can I help you?” he asks, and his eyes go wide. “Holy shit. You’re Emerson Hartwell and Amelia Green.”

“Hi.” I smile, and he knocks over a jar of pens. “I have a tour scheduled for one of the units in the building.”

“A tour. In our building. Right. Yes. Give me just a second.” He glances at the planner in front of him. “Here it is. You’re going to be looking at our Lakeside option. It’s a very popular setup for some of the athletes who live in the complex.”

“There are other athletes here?” I perk up. “That’s exciting.”

“Baseball, football, and basketball players. Privacy is of the utmost importance at Cliffside Heights, and we enforce a strong no solicitation policy.” He taps the sign propped on the desk that warns of criminal charges for loiterers. “Between the luxurious finishes in the apartment, the spacious ceilings, and the renowned amenities, our residents report high satisfaction rates with their accommodations.”

“Any mold in the building, Roger?” Emmy asks, looking at his name tag.

“No ma’am.” Roger shakes his head. His ears turn pink. “Not a speck.”

“Good.” She smiles. “Can you point us toward the unit Amelia is interested in?”

We’re directed to a pair of elevators where we ride up to the twenty-first floor with soft jazz music.

“The last building didn’t have an elevator,” I say when the doors open. “Imagine climbing up twelve flights of stairs when you’re drunk.”

“I’d stay outside until I sobered up or a nice man offered to carry me.” Emmy falls in step beside me. “It looks like there are only four units on the floor. You wouldn’t have dozens of people passing your door.”

“It’s at the top of my budget, but I’m hoping it would afford me the most privacy. That comes at a cost these days.”

I gasp when we walk into the model unit because it’s perfect.

New and clean and spacious with updated appliances and a terrace, we take our time looking around. The four bedrooms and three bathrooms might be too much for a person living on their own, but it’s hard to argue with towel warmers and the pot filler faucet over the stove.

“Maybe I’m looking at everything with rose-tinted glasses, but I can’t find a single flaw in here.” I run my hand over the quartz countertop in the kitchen. The island in the middle boasts enough room for eight guests to gather comfortably, and I imagine inviting my future coaching staff over for dinner. Lainey and Sienna too. “Bring me back to reality.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Amelia, but I think you’re going to have to take it.” Emmy gapes at the walk-in pantry. “Putting aside how nice the apartment is, it’s also in the perfect location. You’re fifteen minutes from me out in the suburbs. Eight minutes from the arena. How do you beat that?”

“It’s only forty-five minutes from DC,” I add. The thought of Grant being so close makes me squirm. We could see each other every night. “Very convenient.”

“Do you go to the city a lot?”

“No, but I like the museums.” I scramble to come up with an answer, letting out a silent sigh of relief when she nods in agreement. “There’s plenty to do.”

“I love DC. Not because that’s where I fell for with Maverick.” She grins. “There are other reasons, but that city changed my life. I’m grateful for it.”

It’s changing my life too.

I loved Denver. It’s where I got my start in the NHL. It’s where I figured out the spot I want to carve out for myself in this league, but I can tell the Mid-Atlantic is going to be special. Like the sky is the limit for all that I can accomplish.

And I get to do it with Grant by my side.

“This is the place,” I murmur. “This is going to be my home.”