Page 15 of Cross Check Hearts

“I was just calling to say hi and see how things are going.”

“No problems here. I just finished unpacking in my new condo, and training has been going great. I had a killer assist in our first preseason game that the whole team is still talking about,” I tell her, my smile growing wider as I recount it. “I wish you could’ve been there to see it.”

“Me too,mon cœur. Me too.”

“I’ll have to fly you in for a game sometime, assuming you’re up to it.”

“I would love that,” my mother says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I’ll get you the best seats in the house,” I suggest, already picturing her bundled up in an Aces jersey with my number on it, watching me play in the NHL.

“That sounds wonderful, Dec.”

“Good. I’ll get it set up and arrange for your plane tickets and all of that. Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing?”

“Oh, fine,” she says breezily, but I’m not buying it. She always tries to downplay what’s really going on, and even though she said she was just calling to catch up, I’ve had twenty-four years to learn her tells.

“What is it you always used to say about liars when I was a kid?”

“Liars often set their own traps,” my mother recites, and I chuckle.

“Then consider yourself caught. What’s really going on?”

My mother sighs, making the line crackle, and takes a second. “It’s nothing serious. It’s just that my joints have been a bit achy lately.” Her words make my chest clench, squeezing my heart.

“Well with this new contract, I can get all the best care for you. Whatever you want or need, it’s yours. I’m going to take care of you, just like I promised I would. I’ve already set up an appointment with that specialist in San Diego we were looking at. And I’ve arranged for a home health aide to come by twice a week. No arguments,” I add before she can protest. “You spent years taking care of me. Let me return the favor.”

My mother sniffles, and hearing it feels like someone is tearing my heart right out of my chest. “I know you will. But you have to?—”

“Live life for myself too,” I finish for her. “Yeah, I know. And trust me, I am.”

An image of Hannah flashes in my mind—her mismatched eyes, that smile that lights up her entire face. For the first time in a long while, I’m thinking about more than just hockey and taking care of my mother.

“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear,” my mother says.

The line falls quiet for a moment, but I can hear her breathing on the other end, and the soft sound makes me smile. For a long, long time, it was just me and my mom against the world. She’s my inspiration and my best friend, and even though she would’ve killed me if I’d tried to turn down the contract with the Aces, having several states between us for the first time in my life is hard. I miss her every damn day.

“You know, I’m crocheting you a scarf with the Aces logo on it,” I tell her finally, and she chuckles.

“Ooh!” She makes an excited noise. “I’ll add it to my collection. You know, no one believes me when I tell them you’re just as good at crochet as you are at hockey.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a man who knows how to work with his hands,” I say with a laugh. “Besides, you’re the one who taught me that focusing on a pattern helps calm my mind before big games. It’s my secret weapon.”

“Damn right it is.” Pride fills her voice.

I pull the phone away from my ear to check the time, then put it back. “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I just got to the arena for practice, so I need to get inside. Can I call you back when I’m finished?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks, Mom.Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime plus,” she says like she always does and hangs up. I grin down at the phone for a moment, feeling bittersweet, before I slip it back into my pocket and lock my helmet up to head into the arena.

When I get to the locker room, most of the rest of the team is already there and geared up, so I rush to get out of my clothes and into my pads. I finish just as the other guys are lining up to leave and hurry to join them. Dunaway isn’t playing around today because he hits his whistle as soon as we spill out onto the ice and signals for us to start our warmup laps.

Everyone else eases into it, but not me. After my performance in the preseason game, I don’t think I’m at any risk of getting cut from the team, but I’m still the rookie and that was just one game, so I can’t afford not to give everything I do out here one hundred and ten percent—even simple laps around the rink.

This contract, this opportunity, is everything I’ve worked for. Not just for me, but for my mother. For the kid I was who used to practice stick handling in our tiny apartment hallway until the neighbors complained. I owe it to her to be nothing less than exceptional.

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