Page 34 of Charming Crosschecks

Molly balked, stopping abruptly just as they reached the door leading to the private lounge area. Her friends halted in their tracks, their expressions a mix of exasperation and confusion.

“Y’all…” Molly started, her voice a mix of bemusement and frustration. She held up her hands, palms out, as if surrendering to their overzealous antics. “He’s not taken. We’ve been on one date and?—”

“Oh no, I’m gonna stop you right there,Queen Denial,” Aimee interjected, planting her hands on her hips like she was ready to lay down some universal truths. “Because that little stunt he just pulled out there?” She jabbed her finger toward the now-empty rink, her voice rising in pitch with emphasis. “That was the equivalent of a branding iron right on the rump. You. Are. His.”

“Facts,” Becca muttered, crossing her arms with a knowing nod.

Aimee pressed on, unrelenting. “He is claiming you, Molly. You are dating. I’d suggest you watchSportsCentertonight if you don’t believe me.”

Molly froze, her gaze flickering between their resolute faces. Her heart pounded in her chest as their words began to sink in. Gerry wasclaimingher? Not just flirting, not just pulling some sweet, spur-of-the-moment stunt to get her to agree to another date?

No, this was something more.

He had marked her in front of everyone, boldly and without apology. He wanted her. Hechoseher.

The weight of that realization hit her like a tidal wave, eroding every last piece of resistance she’d been holding onto. Her walls, built so carefully to protect herself, crumbled under the force of this truth.

Aimee and Becca exchanged a knowing look, watching as Molly’s resolve visibly wavered.

Molly swallowed hard, her pulse racing. The enormity of Gerry’s gesture wasn’t lost on her. He wasn’t just making a statement—he was laying his heart on the line, forher.

And suddenly, she realized, she wanted to meet him there.

The door slammed open, breaking the low hum of post-game chatter, and two men stormed in with a lively energy that filled the room. Their laughter and movement were uncontainable and magnetic, drawing every eye as they made their way toward Becca and Aimee. The air seemed to hum with the unique blend of camaraderie and intimacy that comes from lives entwined by love and partnership.

In those fleeting seconds, Becca caught a glimpse of her friends' faces transforming with joy—an awareness that could only come from knowing their hearts belonged entirely to someone else.

Becca practically flung herself into Giroux’s waiting arms, her laughter light and unguarded as she kissed him without a care for his sweaty, shaggy hair damp from hours spent under a hockey helmet. The unmistakable scent of effort and exertion clung to him, but it didn’t matter. The connection between them was all-consuming.

Beside her, Batiste leaned into Aimee. His forehead pressed gently to hers as he murmured in a low, soothing voice, switching effortlessly between French and English. His words were private, tender, and meant only for her ears, and the way Aimee smiled told the story of a love that was steady and profound.

Then the door opened again.

This time, it was Gerry.

Her breath hitched. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt and slow as his gaze latched onto hers. The words her friends had teased her with earlier—He’s claimed you, he wants you, you’re his girl—rang in her ears. His face was flushed, patches of ruddy pink standing out from the cold arena air, and the adrenaline of intense plays on the ice, but his eyes... those eyes...

They softened the moment they saw her, turning warm and tender, and she felt a strange, thrilling stillness settle over her. Time held its breath, the noise around them fading as if the universe itself recognized the gravity of this moment. Every objection she’d told herself, every attempt to deny the connection between them, dissolved. She had tried to convince herself they were nothing more than two people who had gone on one date. Yet, under that gaze, all her doubts crumbled. He was walking toward her now, and the pull was undeniable.

“Did you like the game?” he asked, his voice deep but tinged with hesitation as if the answer mattered more than it should.

“It was great,” she replied, her heart thudding in a rhythm that felt anything but steady.

He shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, and I was hoping…” He trailed off, his tone uncertain.

“Yes,” she cut in, the word tumbling out breathlessly before she even knew what he was going to ask.

He blinked, startled but amused. “I was going to see if you wanted to go?—”

“Yes,” she interrupted again, her voice firmer this time, as a small smile tugged at her lips.

Gerry let out a soft, nervous laugh, the sound warm and endearing. His smile deepened, a sweetness in it that made her chest ache with an emotion she couldn’t yet name. Her pulse quickened as she thought about what it might be like to have more of these moments—to see that smile every day, to share these small, stolen fragments of tenderness. Life wasn’t perfect; everyone had their bad days and their frustrations. But somehow, it felt like he was setting all that aside, just for her, simply to exist in this moment together.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to join me for a late snack. I know traffic is a bear and?—”

“Gerry,” she interrupted, her voice soft but insistent as she stepped forward, placing her hand on the front of his uniform. “I’m still saying ‘yes.’”

Her palm brushed against the damp fabric, the hard ridges of protective gear beneath, and yet she swore she could feel his heartbeat, wild and unsteady, mirroring her own. She met his gaze, letting her words linger between them. “I’m in—for whatever this is,” she said, her voice trembling with raw honesty.

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