Page 35 of Cross Check Hearts

My parents want the perfect daughter with the perfect boyfriend and the perfect job. But what doIwant?

And why does the answer to that question terrify me so much?

Chapter17

Declan

The piercing blast of Coach Dunaway’s whistle cuts across the arena, signaling the end of practice as we’re all winding down. I glide across the ice to meet the rest of the guys as they start piling off, and Sawyer claps me on the shoulder when I swish to a stop next to him.

“Good work out there today. You’re really giving me a run for my money.”

“At this rate, he’s going to force you into an early retirement, old man,” Theo teases him, but Sawyer just rolls his eyes.

“I think that’s your own insecurity talking, not mine.”

Theo smirks and playfully punches our massive, notoriously stoic goalie’s arm. “Speaking of talking, why are you so quiet today, Grant? Did your tongue get stuck to the ice while trying to block my shots?”

Grant glares at him. “Not all of us need to be talking twenty-four-seven.”

“Oh, wow, someone’s extra grumpy today,” Theo banters back, feigning offense.

The guys start disappearing down the hall to the locker room, but I stay on the ice. Maybe I’m overdoing it, but I’m not ready to call it quits yet. I still have a lot of energy to burn, and there’s no better way for me to do it than by hitting the drills. The rest of the guys are too caught up in their bullshitting and easygoing banter to notice.

I glide out across the ice toward the small pile of pucks that got left behind and swipe one of them with my stick, then square up in front of the net. I’m determined to get my pivots on point, since that’s the big thing Coach Dunaway told me I need to work on.

The yoga I’ve started doing with Hannah is definitely going to help, but it’s not enough on its own. I take a few deep breaths, really trying to zone in on the net in front of me and how I’m going to get there, then leap into action.

My body turns into a streak of controlled power as I hurtle across the ice, closing the distance between myself and the rightmost edge of the net as fast as my legs will let me. But just as I get to the line where a shot should be fired, I pivot hard to the left, spinning gracefully, and let the shot loose with a powerful backhand. The puck soars into the net so hard that if it wasn’t bolted down, it probably would’ve flipped over.

A whistle carries out over the ice, and when I glance over my shoulder, I find Dunaway in the stands with one of the assistant coaches.

“Nice shot, Murray!” Dunaway shouts, both hands cupped around his mouth. Then he waves me over. The assistant coach excuses himself while I’m making my way over, and Dunaway meets me at the boards.

“You don’t have to overdo it,” he says with a smile when I stop in front of him. “You’re already killing it. I don’t want you burning out.”

I nod. “I understand. I just want to do the best I can for the team.”

Dunaway chuckles at me. “I respect your work ethic, Murray, I really do. But you’ve got to live for yourself a little bit sometimes too. Your mind needs a break. It can’t be all hardcore hockey, all the time.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “I know that. I just have a hard time not giving things my all. If I’m in, I’m in, you know what I mean?”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I wouldn’t be heading a Cup-winning team if we didn’t have that in common.” Dunaway rubs a hand over his shiny bald head. “Now don’t get me wrong, the drills and practice are important, but it’s just as important to take care of yourself, especially in this line of work. You never know when your next game might be your last thanks to an injury or strain or something.”

A chill runs through me despite the sweat on my skin. I don’t even want to think about that happening.

Getting to this point has been a years-long, back-and-forth journey, so the last thing I want is for some random injury I could’ve prevented to steal the dream away from me now that it’s finally in my grasp. I have so much respect already for Dunaway, but I only respect him more for talking to me like this.

At this point in his career with a Cup win under his belt and an all-star team in the making, he’s approaching living legend status, so it means a lot to me that someone like him cares enough to be taking me under his wing like this. He really must believe in me and what I can do, and that lights a fire inside me. But I have to admit, I haven’t exactly been taking his advice before now.

“That’s every player’s worst nightmare,” I finally say, and Dunaway nods at me.

“Exactly. So like I said, you’ve gotta take care of yourself, on and off the ice. Speaking of which, how’s the yoga been going?”

My stomach knots at the question. Hannah has made it abundantly clear that her dad would never approve of the feelings I have for her, and I feel like an asshole for keeping this secret from him when he’s being so transparent with me. But it’s not like telling him the truth would do any of us any good, so I swallow back my guilt.

“It’s helping a lot so far. Hannah’s an amazing teacher. It must run in the family.”

“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” Dunaway says, although he smiles at me. “But you’re right. Hannah’s talented. I can’t wait to see what she does in a courtroom. Teaching yoga as a side hustle to help pay for school is one thing, but when she lands her first real job at a law firm, these judges and juries aren’t going to know what hit them.”

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