Page 47 of Cross Check

“You sure are something, G.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” I glance into the dining room and gasp. “Oh my god.” I smack Hudson’s arm. “Look. Liam is literally sitting at the dining room table and smiling. Do you think he’s dying? He’d tell us if he was dying, wouldn’t he?”

“What?” Hudson follows where I’m pointing to our goalie. “Okay. That’s weird.”

“See? He is dying, and I’m going to miss him when he’s gone.”

“Who’s dying?” Piper asks, sliding up next to me. “Are you okay, Grant?”

“I think there’s something wrong with Liam,” I whisper. “He’s smiling. He never smiles.”

“Oh.” She coughs, and when I glance down at her, her cheeks are bright red. “I bet it’s the food. Riley brought some really good garlic bread, and Liam loves carbs. At least, I think I remember him saying that in an interview.”

“He did an interview? Huh. Wild times. But what a relief he’s okay.” I sigh, putting a hand over my chest. “Let me track down some of this garlic bread.”

I maneuver through Maverick and Emmy’s apartment, greeting my teammates with high fives and ignoring Ethan when he tries to hand me a handmade poster rallying against the closure of his favorite arena food stall. When I make it to a spot in the living room next to Connor, I pull out my phone, wanting to make sure Amelia got to town safely. There’s already a message waiting for me.

Unknown Number

I usually do okay with flying, but turbulence makes me want to cry.

It’s Amelia Green, by the way.

I save her contact info, changing her name to something more inconspicuous.

Me

You’re now saved in my phone as AG!

Flight wasn’t enjoyable?

AG

Pretty sure we fell out of the sky at one point.

Me

Shit. That sounds scary.

“Want to play Halo, G?” Riley tosses me a controller, and I almost drop my phone. “It’s you, me, and Connor.”

“Give me a minute.”

I rest the controller in my lap and scoot to the edge of the couch. I pull my notebook from my back pocket and shield it with my right hand, flipping to the third page and starting to write.

Doesn’t like turbulence, but is okay with flying otherwise

“What are you writing?” Connor tries to lean into my space. “Pretty sure my sister had one of those pens back in middle school.”

“Don’t hate. This is my favorite writing utensil.” I slide the cap on the gel pen and slip it back in my pocket with the notebook. I toss him a sly grin. “And mind your business about what I’m writing.”

“You’re not going back to school, are you?”

“No way. Just trying to keep track of some personal data. Food I’m eating. How much I sleep,” I lie. “I really want to make the first line.”

“It’s going to happen, G.” He elbows me. “It will be a good day when you do.”

My phone lights up again, and I take advantage of my friends being distracted to sneak a look at the message waiting for me.