Page 2 of Cross Check Hearts

Sawyer covers his mouth with one hand and points at Theo with the other so he can’t see it. “He’s just jealous,” he mouths, and I let a knowing smirk play across my lips.

“I saw that,” Theo snaps.

“Saw what?” Sawyer asks, playing stupid. Theo scowls at him, but Noah shoots him a look and shakes his head at me.

“You’ll get used to all of Theo’s bullshit eventually.”

“He’s gonna have to. He’s stuck with me now, whether he likes it or not,” Theo says before he tugs his shirt over his head, showing off just how ripped he is. He tosses it into his locker and steps across the room to shake my hand too. “Theo. In all seriousness, though, we’re glad to have you.”

“Declan. And that’s good because you’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not,” I tell him, my voice carrying a confident edge as he chuckles and drops my hand.

“That’s cute, rookie.”

“See? He’s going to fit right in,” Sawyer says, smiling, and throws an arm around my shoulders. “I’m Sawyer. Looks like you and I are gonna be working together a lot on the defensive side of things. So if you have any questions or anything, I’m your guy.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Sawyer smiles again and heads for his locker. I go back to getting geared up, but I can’t stop thinking about how funny this whole interaction has been. Of course, I already know who all three of them are. I’ve been living and breathing hockey for the last several years, and the Aces just won the Cup, so I’ve been following their every move.

If I was one of them, I’d be strutting around here like I was hot shit—and I probably wouldn’t have been so warm to a rookie—but they all seem way more grounded than I would’ve guessed. They’re just normal guys who happen to be NHL champions.

The rest of the team streams in one by one over the next few minutes, and when everyone’s finished introducing themselves to me and getting ready, we hit the ice together. I’m last in line, but that’s probably a good thing because I’m off in space, drinking in all the details of the arena and trying to get myself to believe this is really happening, that I’m really here and part of the team now.

The weight of my Aces jersey against my shoulders and the sight of my number—43—proves it, but I’ve been working so hard toward this moment that standing on the ice in a line with the rest of the team in their home arena feels surreal. My nerves are starting to set in, because it’s showtime, and the rest of the guys are gonna be watching and scrutinizing everything I do.

Dunaway waits for us at the center of the ice, his arms crossed over his chest, so we circle around him.

He looks at each of us in turn, nodding approvingly, then clears his throat. “Alright, listen up. I know we’re riding high after a Cup win last season,” he starts, and whoops from some of the guys cut him off until he glares at them. “But that doesn’t mean we can get cocky. The whole league is going to be gunning for us now, so we need to go into this season thinking of ourselves as the underdogs. We’ve gotta be just as scrappy and hungry for it this time as we were before to prove that we deserve to win two Cups in a row.”

“Hell yeah,” Theo says, and I join the guys clattering their sticks against the ice to show their support.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Now let’s get that Aces magic going,” Dunaway says and holds his hand out in front of him. We all pile our hands on top of his. “One, two, three,” Dunaway counts down.

“AC-ES!” we chant together and throw our hands up in the air as Dunaway blasts on his whistle to officially start training. I’m not sure what their usual training regimen is, so I hold back for a beat, observing until I realize that the whole team is jetting off for a few warmup laps around the ice.

I take a lazy circle around the arena the first time around but notice the guys ahead of me are picking up their pace for the second one, so I follow suit. I dig my blades in deeper, unleashing my speed, and end up soaring past several of them. On the third lap, Dunaway blasts his whistle again, and the guys start to split off toward the benches, gearing up for a full-ice scrimmage. I skate over to grab a drink and tap gloves with a few of the guys before Dunaway calls out the lineups.

“Blue jerseys take the home bench. Whites, away. Let’s get after it,” he barks. I follow the rest of the defensemen in white over to the far side. Theo is already tossing chirps at the guys on the other bench, and I try to focus on soaking it all in without looking like a total rookie.

I get thrown out there with Reese on right wing, Noah taking center, and another D-man named Collins who gives me a nod and nothing else. The whistle blows, and we’re off.

Right away, the pace is fast. No one is holding back, and it’s clear Dunaway wants to see who can hang when the drills are over and the game gets real. I stay tight to my zone, keep my gaps clean, and call out switches when the opposing team dumps it deep. When the puck squirts loose from the boards, I jump on it and make a clean breakout pass to Noah, who’s already flying up the right side.

The play shifts fast, and before long, we’re back in our zone and facing pressure. A forward cuts through the high slot and winds up, but I close in, get my stick in the lane, and deflect the shot up into the netting. The goalie taps his stick against the post in thanks. I just nod and get back in position.

A few shifts later, I intercept a pass at the blue line and move the puck up ice with a quick dish to Noah. He passes it to Maxim Federov, who drops it back, and I rip a shot from the point. It’s low and through traffic—not a pretty goal, but it finds an opening and slides through the five-hole. The bench erupts, and Theo hoots from the other end like I’ve just stolen his lunch money.

“Holy shit, nice finish!” Noah calls from somewhere behind me, and when I loop around and glance over my shoulder, I find him grinning at me like we’ve been teammates for years. Dunaway gives me a quick nod, and even Theo is giving me an impressed once-over as I bite back a beaming smile.

It feels fucking amazing to be here with the ice-chilled air whipping through my hair, my heart pumping in my chest, and these actual hockey champions seeing what I’ve got. It makes me feel alive. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to have been all along. Like everything I had to do to get here was worth it.

The rest of practice whips by, and while it’s obvious most of the other guys are starting to wear down, I could keep going for at least another couple hours.

“What’s the matter? Your joints hurting you?” I taunt with a challenging smirk as we start to pile off the ice.

“Oh, we’re good, we just don’t want to keep you out past your bedtime, rookie,” Theo fires back with a smirk, eliciting a laugh from the others.

Sawyer claps me on the shoulder and smiles, and maybe it’s too early since I literally just met them all today, but I feel like I’m already fitting in with everyone. If they didn’t like me, they wouldn’t be bantering around like this with me. Hockey players are a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. If there’s a problem, they’ll let you know.

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