Page 33 of Cross Check Hearts

ME: So he’s goal-oriented on and off the ice…

DECLAN: Yeah. But you already know how determined I can get. *winking emoji*

My body responds to his words with an immediate flash of heat. Memories of his focused intensity that night at the club, the way his eyes never left mine even in our most intimate moments, flood back uninvited.

I pause, tapping my finger against the side of my phone and fighting the urge to say something back that’s just as flirty. But my phone buzzes with another message before I can think of anything to say.

DECLAN: I’d better go. I’ve gotta go get ready for the game tonight.

ME: Me too, my class is waiting for me. Thanks again for the food.

DECLAN: My pleasure. Have a good class.

I tuck my phone back in my purse and throw away the food container, then hurry back out to the main room of the studio. Most of the people in the session have been coming for a long time, and a good portion of them saw the surprise food delivery, so no one sweats me about starting a few minutes late while I ate.

This is a more advanced class, so I launch right into my usual stretch routine for them, and the rest of the hour passes quickly. But every time I try to get quiet and listen to my body, all I can hear is Declan’s voice and words repeating in my ear. All I can feel is the phantom pressure of his lips against mine, his body pinning me against the cold, hard metal of his bike.

And the boiling tension between us that bubbled right over the edge in that moment.

My body refuses to forget what my mind keeps trying to deny.

Thankfully, I have a class change to take my mind off it. I thank everyone for coming and give some last-minute feedback to a few people on their way out, then reset the room for the next class before they start trickling in. I’m almost done when the first of my students for the second class arrives, an early retiree named Gwen.

“Looks like you’ve already gotten a good workout today,” she says as she lays out a mat in her usual place by the wall, shifting her gray-streaked braid over one shoulder.

I chuckle ruefully. “You’re my second class in a row, so yeah, I’m feeling the burn a little bit. But it’s good for me.”

Honestly, it’s not really the calories I’m trying to burn off, although that’s a nice bonus. It’s the restless energy Declan stirs in me, the way thinking about him makes my skin feel too hot. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.

My second class is more beginner-oriented, so I’m a little worried my mind’s going to wander more than in the last one, but because I have to give so much more individual attention and feedback to the participants, I manage to stay out of my own head for most of the class. And probably for similar reasons, it passes even faster than the last one did.

By the time we’re cleaning up and putting all the materials away for the night, I’m exhausted. Most of my days are long between school and yoga, but with everything else going on and the test taking it out of me earlier, I’m more worn down than usual at this point in the day.

I can’t wait to get home and curl up with Ralph, so I tell everyone good night and wait for them all to leave before I do one final sanitation pass and lock up the building to start going through my nightly closing routine. I’m double checking the following day’s class schedule on the computer in the office when my phone rings in my purse.

I reach for it absently and hold it up to check who’s calling—and my stomach knots when I see my mother’s name and face on the screen. I know why she’s calling, and I’ve been dreading it all day long even as I’ve been expecting it. Still, I swipe to answer and cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, keeping my voice light.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Just closing up at the yoga studio. How are things with you?”

My mother sighs, and my stomach clenches. Here it comes. “I’m as okay as I can be, given what day it is.”

I nod, my throat tight. It’s been ten years to the day since we lost Casey, my twin brother, but it still feels so fresh that I honestly don’t think any words will ever be enough to take the sting out of this anniversary for any of us.

Mom, Dad, and I have all found our own ways to cope or distract ourselves over the years, but I feel like it’s been the hardest on them. I usually just throw myself into work or school, so I don’t have to think or talk about it—and that’s a big part of the reason why I’ve been going nonstop today.

The familiar weight of loss settles over me like a shroud. Ten years, and it still feels like yesterday. A part of me was severed the day Casey died, and I’ve never quite figured out how to function without it.

My father isn’t much of a talker when it comes to his feelings in general, and he gets particularly quiet every year around this day. But my mother is different. She wants, maybe evenneeds, to talk about it, to remember and memorialize Casey. I get that, and why it’s important to her, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to do. But after what my parents went through losing Casey so young, I’m the only kid they have left, so I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize our relationship.

Especially not today.

“Anyway,” my mother continues, breaking the long silence. “I was thinking it might be nice if you could come over for dinner next Tuesday or something. It would be great to spend the evening together as a family. I know you’re busy with school, but your father and I miss you.”

“Of course.”

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