Page 272 of Cross Check

He’s in Italy too to watch Emmy play for the women’s team. We just had dinner together yesterday, and I didn’t think we had plans for tonight.

“Hey, Mavvy,” I answer.

“Hey, man. Are you busy?”

“I have a minute. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Have you checked ESPN recently?” he asks.

“No. Why would I check ESPN?”

“You might want to.” There’s a long pause. “Someone shared pictures and videos of you and Amelia together. There’s an article about you two and your alleged relationship. I, ah, wanted you to know so you could get ahead of it and⁠—”

My blood turns cold. I hang up on him mid-sentence, my fingers shaking as I type in the website. When I do, I find my face plastered in the middle of the screen.

The article shows dozens of snapshots of Amelia and me. There’s one from the Halloween party we went to a few months ago. Another of me leaving her apartment building with a baseball hat pulled low on my face. A third of us on the sidewalk in Baltimore, looking at each other while we both laugh. The images are grainy, but you can make out our faces. You can see the way she’s smiling, and there’s no doubt it’s us.

Bile climbs up my throat. My stomach drops to my feet. Every breath I try to take feels like I’m being stabbed with a hundred knives when I read the headline.

Up-and-coming hockey heartthrob caught in steamy tryst with NHL coach!

Jesus fucking Christ.

There’s a hand on my shoulder, and I jump at the contact. Coach and Hannah are staring at me, and I start to panic.

“Everything okay, Everett?” Coach asks.

“Um.” I fan my face and wonder if it’s possible to pass out from shock. Why the fuck do these people care about what an up-and-coming hockey player is doing in his free time like I’m some goddamn global name? “I think we have a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Hannah steps toward me. “Did something happen?”

I hold my phone so Coach can read the headline. After he does, he blinks.

“Why are you showing me a gossip website?” he asks.

“You know Amelia Green? The head coach for the Baltimore Sea Crabs?” I say, and it’s a stupid question.

Of course he knows her. I’ve seen the two of them talk on multiple occasions. They sat next to each other at All-Star weekend. I’ve read over her shoulder in bed while they’ve exchanged texts about drills and stick prototypes.

“Yes,” he deadpans. “I had lunch with her last week. Do you know Amelia Green?”

“I guess you could say that.” I let out a nervous laugh even though nothing about this situation is funny. “I’m, ah, kind of in a relationship with her. And I think I’m about to be in a shitload of trouble.”

Coach’s eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. He looks at the large screen with the current placement of skaters, then back at Hannah. She kisses his cheek and pats his chest.

“This sounds important. You two figure out what’s going on. I’ll be here when you’re finished,” she says, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit for taking away this moment from her.

Coach hooks his thumb over his shoulder, and I follow him to a secluded alcove behind a thick curtain. My phone keeps buzzing with notifications, and I’m desperate to know if any of them are Amelia.

“Start from the very fucking beginning,” Coach says through clenched teeth. “Because I’m hoping this is a big misunderstanding.”

“We met at a restaurant in Denver before a game years ago. We’ve been friendly for a while, but we started dating each other about two years ago. We’ve kept the relationship a secret up to this point out of fear of how people would react, and we didn’t… I never…” I blow out a breath. My chest hurts so fucking bad. “I need to see her. I need to know if she’s read this article.”

“Back it up. Did you say you’re dating her? And you’ve been together for years? Are you out of your fucking mind? Did you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions?” Coach hisses. “She’s a coach, Grant. Not a player or some intern whose name no one knows. A coach, and the leader of a team. A person in her position can’t be associated with anyone who could be considered her subordinate. How stupid are you?”

“Don’t you dare stand there and lecture me on relationship ethics while you’re dating my little sister,” I warn him.

“This is going to spread like wildfire. Once the league gets a hold of it, your ass is going to be on the line. I’m sure hers already is.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “The only blessing is we’re thousands of miles away from league headquarters and nothing can be done while you’re over here. But don’t think that means the commissioner isn’t going to come for you the second we land back in the States.”