Page 11 of Cross-Checked

“Yeah,” Jules says, but her head is turning away from me and her whole face lights up because Colt is walking down the hall toward us. “You should talk to her.” And then she’s off, barreling down the hall toward him before she jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and nuzzling her face into his neck.

I turn away, not to give them privacy so much as to prevent myself from being sick at how in love they seem. I remember the early days with my ex, the way it felt when he walked into a room, his gaze landing on me. You could have lit the Eiffel Tower with how I radiated from his attention. And look where it got me...cheated on and divorced.

Not that I think Colt, or really anyone else who isn’t a narcissistic asshole, would have reacted the way Chet did in our situation. But still, seeing two people so in love, especially in the early days, still hurts.

I just want to get on that plane and sleep while we fly home. I’m always exhausted by the end of the season, but this year it feels particularly intense. I’m not sure if it’s because early yesterday morning I caught a flight home for Lauren’s bridal shower, and convinced Jules to come down for Game 4, before flying back last night. Or if maybe I need to see my endocrinologist about adjusting my medications?

I’m about to pull out my phone to shoot her a message when Charlie walks up. I congratulate him on a good game, and we chat a bit about what the next week should look like now that wedon’t have to play Games 5, 6, or 7. Round 3 of the playoffs won’t start until the following week, and it feels like a gift for all of us to have a whole week without games or travel.

“The guys will be well-rested compared to either Philly or New Jersey,” Charlie says, and I nod in agreement. Their fourth game finished up in Philadelphia only minutes ago, and the teams are tied 2-2 in the series, so they’ll be playing at least two more games next week, if not three. Whoever wins, we’ll take on in Round 3 and hopefully our week off will give us an advantage.

“I know you’ll want to practice,” I tell him, “but make sure not to overdo it. They need to conserve their energy.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Charlie says as we walk out into the humid evening air and across the parking lot to the bus.

I glance behind me, looking for Jules, because I’d offered her the seat next to me on the plane home. But she’s tucked under Colt’s arm, and I have a feeling he’s not going to let her go. Turning back toward the door of the bus, I laugh to myself about how Drew, who normally sits next to Colt, is going to lose his seat. But then the laughter dries up when I realize that might mean Drew ends up next to me on this flight, as I’m the only one who normally has a free seat beside me.

Whatever, we’ll all be sleeping anyway.

“I’m sorry, but what the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” I say to McCabe as I glance up at where he stands next to me, eyeing the seat next to mine.

“Drew lost his seat to Jules, so I gave him mine,” McCabe says before using one of his long legs to step right over me and toward the window seat when I don’t move out of his way.

“Why would you do that?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low, so I don’t attract Charlie’s attention. He’s deep in conversation with our assistant coach, Larry, and I’d love not to cause a scene. “You better not be trying to talk to me about your contract.” Players aren’t allowed to negotiate directly with management, and I don’t want it to look like anything unethical is going on here.

“Relax, AJ. I’m just planning to sleep, and this is a nicer seat than what we have.” He’s right; the seats up in this section are first-class, whereas the rest of the plane is retrofitted with business class seats. Ours fully recline, which is the only reason I can normally sleep on these flights.

“Fine,” I grumble, pulling my Kindle out of the seat pocket in front of me.

“But I did have a question for you.”

“No. No questions, McCabe—not here. If you want to talk about your contract, or this team, or anything else, drop by my office with your agent.” He knows better. He knows the only conversation I can have about his contract is with his agent, and we’ve already agreed to wait until the season is over. Too damn bad for him if he’s having second thoughts now that we’re headed into the third round of the playoffs. If he hadn’t wanted to wait, he should have negotiated instead of throwing out such ridiculous demands.

“Oh, so we’re at thenot being able to talk without a mediatorstage?” His gruff voice has a hard, sarcastic edge like it always does now.

“No, we’re at theI’m exhausted and want to go to sleep, and not talk to youstage.”

“Fine,” he says. “Answer one question for me, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

I roll my eyes as I glance up at him, and I’m surprised at how bright green his eyes are up close, even in the dim light. Thepractically permanent scowl he wears usually has his eyebrows dipping low, and his green eyes aren’t really able to shine like they used to when he was a fresh, young player who I brought up to the NHL from our AHL affiliate.

Did I do that to him?Did I dim that spark when I traded him to Boston?

It’s not the first time I’ve wondered this, but I’ve never had the nerve to ask.Man up and stop being such a scaredy cat,I hear my Dad’s voice, even after all these years of trying to get him out of my head.

“Fine.”

The plane starts taxiing toward the runway, and I glance down when I sense McCabe’s fists tighten on the armrests on either side of him. But he’s glanced out the window and I’m relieved he doesn’t see me looking, both because I don’t want to be caught staring at him and also because if he’s scared of flying, I’d be the last person he’d want to admit that to.

He turns back toward me, and his face is a mask. There’s no trace of the fear I sensed a moment ago as he asks, “What were you doing in my building the other afternoon?”

I have literally no idea what he’s talking about. “Your building? Like where you live?”

He nods.

“I have no idea where you live, McCabe.” Why would I know anything more than the fact that he lives in the city? Unlike some of the other players, it’s not like he’s hosted big team events at his place.

“That seems unlikely, since I watched you walk into my lobby five days ago.”

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