Page 85 of Cross Check Hearts

With a quick glance around, I take the jersey from his hand, my fingers brushing against his in the process. “Fine. You win.”

The fabric is soft and warm as I slip it over my head, and as I tug down the fabric so that the oversized jersey drapes over my dress like a tunic, the raw desire and satisfaction in Declan’s eyes makes my skin tingle.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “And if anyone comments on you wearing my number, you can just tell them I was being a gentleman and helping you stay warm.”

My stomach flutters. “Funny,” I whisper back. “Because the way you’re looking at me, I have a hard time believing you’re thinking gentlemanly thoughts.”

His eyes flash. “Oh, hummingbird. You have no idea.”

He steps away from me with what looks like some effort, then retrieves another jersey for himself from his bag and tugs it on before returning to my side.

“Now…” He grins. “Are you ready to meet my mom?”

I nod, even though inside I’m more than a little anxious, especially now that I’m wearing his jersey and will probably have to walk past my parents and the entire team. There’s no doubt in my mind that they all know it’s Declan’s mom, and that means there’s likely going to be questions about why I’m wearing his jersey and why he’s introducing me to his mom at all.

But like he can read my mind—or more accurately see the anxiety all over my face—Declan guides me the long way around the rink to his mom so we can dodge them all. The gentle pressure of his hand at the small of my back steadies me, and it helps knowing that I won’t directly cross paths with my father or the rest of the team.

Anyway, like Declan said, we can always say that he was just being a gentleman, making sure the coach’s daughter stayed warm.

By the time we reach his mom, my heart rate has calmed enough that I at least feel like I can hold myself steady. The last thing I want to do is be a bumbling idiot in front of this woman, even if she doesn’t know that her son and I are sort of together.

Thankfully, she smiles warmly as we approach and holds out a hand to me. I can’t help noticing the way her hand trembles as she holds it out in the air for me to take. I smile as I take it gently.

“Mom, this is Hannah,” Declan says. “She’s Coach Dunaway’s daughter.”

“Ah! So lovely to meet you.”

As Declan’s mom holds my hand in hers, her eyes briefly dart back and forth between me and Declan, almost like she’s wondering if something is going on between us that we haven’t been totally honest about—and she wouldn’t be wrong.

My stomach flutters.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say, trying to hide my nerves.

But when she releases my hand with an easy smile, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I was just imagining the curious look she gave the two of us. We’ve been doing a good job of keeping things secret and staying under the radar, so she’d have no reason to suspect anything.

My father’s sharp whistle pulls my attention away from Declan’s mom, and when we all glance that way, I see him waving all of the Aces players over.

Declan runs a hand through his dark hair. “I guess that’s my cue. Gotta get to work. I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. Play nice now,” he says with a playful wink and walks over to the rink’s entrance to swap his shoes for ice skates with the rest of the team.

Unsure of what else to do, I walk with his mom closer to the boards.

“He’s doing so well on the team already,” I tell her, searching for a neutral topic to break the ice. And what mother doesn’t want to hear something flattering about their kid? She turns and smiles at me.

“I’ve heard. But I’m not surprised. When something matters to him, he gives it everything he has,” she says, and I can’t tell if her words are as loaded as they sound or if I’m just hearing what I want to hear. “That’s exactly what makes him such a great son. He’d do anything for me.”

Hearing that warms my heart because I’ve already seen just how true it is. “I bet. He’s always had good things to say about you, so you two must be close.”

His mom chuckles. “Not close enough, apparently. He’s so protective of me that he’s trying to talk me into moving here. I know he’s worried about me living on my own as my Parkinson’s evolves, but I’m managing.”

I hesitate, unsure what to say or if it’s my place to say anything at all.

Admittedly, I don’t know a whole lot about her condition—no more than I know about the circumstances of her living situation back home—but if Declan is worried enough that he’s been talking to her about relocating here, then I’m assuming he has a good reason for that beyond just missing his mom.

I turn to her, choosing my words carefully. “Well, not that I’m trying to talk you into it or anything, but for what it’s worth, Denver is a great city. I was born and raised here, and the beautiful nature and mountain-fresh air makes it hard to imagine living anywhere else,” I say, and his mom smiles but doesn’t say anything. “But I don’t think medical stuff is the only reason he wants you here. He misses you a lot too.”

“He told you that?” she asks, her expression softening.

“He didn’t have to,” I reply. “Anyone can hear it in his voice whenever he talks about you. It’s all over his face too.”

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