Page 28 of Cross Check

“A croissant, please. That’s⁠—”

“Could you add a French vanilla iced coffee with oat milk to that order, please?” The deep voice is close, and I want to laugh when Grant slides into the space next to me. “A cup as big as my head would be wonderful.”

Of course.

This is my own doing.

I practically manifested him to be here and willed him into existence. Our shoulders brush. The scent of his cologne—warm sandalwood and the hint of vanilla—tickles my nose, and I swallow. Wallet in hand, he sorts through a stack of bills before pulling out a fifty and passing it to the barista.

“I don’t need any change,” he adds, punctuating the interaction with kindness. “Thank you so much.”

“Should I be concerned that you know the location of my favorite coffee shop?” I lean my hip against the counter and fold my arms across my chest. “Or are you going to tell me this is pure coincidence?”

“We’re at the hotel next door,” Grant says, and I know it’s true. With direct access to the arena across the street, all of our opponents stay there. “I swear I didn’t know you were a coffee person.”

“Every day.”

“Cream and two sugars? Any deviation to that?”

“I might mix it up in the summer and do an iced drink if I’m feeling ambitious, but I like my routine.” I smooth my hands over my biker shorts. His eyes follow the path of my palms. Barely audible, I catch the tail end of a hum. The rough exhale of a sharp breath before he’s looking away at the menu in front of him. “What are you doing up so early? Half of the city is still asleep, and the ones that are awake are getting home from a night out.”

“This isn’t by choice.” His laugh is a deep rumble. “Ethan wanted to bring someone back to the room last night, so I was stuck sleeping on a cot in Riley’s room next door. Pretty sure my back is fractured in six different places thanks to the terrible accommodations, and I had to listen to a very enthusiastic soundtrack that included multiple rounds of harder and don’t stop, Ethan.” He shudders. “I’m buying noise-canceling headphones the second I get back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god.” I burst out laughing. “A cot? You poor thing.”

“I’m not tall, and I barely fit. I spent half the night afraid something was going to grab my foot over the edge of the bed!”

“Hotel monsters only attack the Hilton, not the Marriott.” I wheeze at the thought of him curled up into a ball on a tiny mattress. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

“You are so laughing at me,” he deadpans.

“Okay, I’m definitely laughing at you.” I wipe under my eyes. The giggles won’t stop. “If only you had a hockey stick to get rid of the monsters!”

“I’m going to have nightmares for weeks. If I suck tonight, I’m blaming Easy E.” Grant rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “Glad my trauma could make you laugh.”

“The sun is barely up, but I know this is going to be the best part of my day.”

“Want to sit? I need to delay returning to my room out of fear I’ll scare the shit out of some poor woman when I get out of the shower.”

“Plot twist.” I lean forward and drop my voice to a whisper. “What if she is the hotel monster?”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, giggling too. “I’m suggesting a monster romance for book club next season. I need to see how this would play out.”

“You know what? Sitting sounds nice. Croissants as good as the ones this place makes should be enjoyed while relaxing, not powerwalking through town. I could spare ten minutes.”

“We can fight off the monsters together this way. No one should eat a croissant alone.”

We grab our drinks and take the table in the back of the café. The legs of our chairs scrape across the hardwood, and I’m cognizant of the way Grant nudges his seat slightly to the left so we’re not touching.

“To surviving not being taken to the monster realm,” I declare, lifting my warm drink his way. “Which sounds absurd when you say it.”

“Good thing we’re the only two people here. I promise I won’t spend my media availability later today talking about how you’re a weirdo.”

“You’re the one who crashed my coffee plans, claiming monsters were going to attack you. Who is the real weirdo here, Everett?”

“Me, without a doubt. You’re perfect.” He winces. “Shit. Sorry. I’m hearing the connotation behind that, and I didn’t mean it that way.”

For as fast as I’ve skated, for as often as I’ve pushed my body to its physical limits, my heart has never raced like this.