Page 96 of Cross Check Hearts

“I guess that’s comforting?”

He laughs and heads across the locker room to strip off his gear and hit the showers. Everyone else follows until it’s just me and Noah left, like he’s been lingering on purpose to get some alone time with me.

“I’m glad you’re okay and back out on the ice,” he says, testing the waters.

“Yeah, thanks. Me too.”

“How are you doing? Really?”

I chuckle and shrug. “I don’t know, man. It’s not awful, but things could definitely be better. I don’t have any idea how long Dunaway is gonna ride me for this.”

“Have a seat,” Noah says, gesturing at one of the benches, so I drop down onto it, and he joins me with his forearms resting on his knees. “Dunaway has told me more than once that he wouldn’t let his daughter date hockey players. And I totally understand why. It can be demanding with the schedule, there can be a lot of ego involved, and a girl can always end up coming second place to hockey. Not to mention that some players have reputations as, well, players.”

He falls silent for a few seconds, almost like he’s a little embarrassed or making a reference to how much he’s changed. I chuckle at him.

“You’re so head over heels for Margo now that I find it hard to believe you were ever a player.”

Noah looks up at me with a serious expression, ignoring my comment. “Are you serious about Hannah? Because if you’re not, then you really shouldn’t be?—”

“I am,” I interrupt him, my voice firm and unwavering. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anyone.”

Noah studies me carefully. “This isn’t just a chase? Just because she’s the coach’s daughter and off-limits?”

“God, no.” I lean forward, meeting his gaze directly. “The first time I met her, I had no idea who she was. I just knew there was something about her I couldn’t shake.”

There isn’t another person on this planet that I’d rather be with, and if I wasn’t serious about her, then none of this ever would’ve happened. I think we were supposed to meet that night at the club. Something or someone brought us together—not just once, but twice—and that has to mean something.

“She challenges me,” I continue, surprised at how easily the words flow. “Makes me want to be better. Not just a better player, but a better man.”

Noah finally nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Then it will work out. Somehow.” He claps me on the shoulder. “And remember, I’ve been through something like this before, so if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. I know Dunaway better than most people.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him, and he nods and leaves me on the bench by myself. My head’s swirling with thoughts and emotions after the conversation, and for the first time since my injury, I’m almost afraid to stand up because it’s making me feel a little woozy again. I can’t tell if it’s what Noah said, my injury, or both, but I’m not feeling the greatest.

But I’ve got to get it together because I still have a speech to give at the school today. So I scrub my face with my hand and run it through my hair, then force myself up off the bench while I mentally rehearse what I’m going to say.

I’ve been practicing it a lot, timing myself in the mirror and using all the other tips we get for public speaking, but I’ve been distracted with everything that’s been going on, and then I took the hit on the ice, so everything is a little rough around the edges. I could probably cancel or at least reschedule it for a time when I’m feeling more up to it, but I don’t want to let anyone down. And I know I can handle it.

When I got back to my condo last night, Hannah came over and watched me practice one more time.

“You’re overthinking it,” she said to me when I admitted I was nervous, wrapping her arms around me as I stood in front of the mirror. “Just beyourself. That’s who they want to hear from.”

Her words play through my head as I shower quickly and head for the school, which isn’t too far from the arena. I rehearse my lines over and over while I ride, but even though I’ve gone over them a million times at this point, I’m still having trouble with a couple of them. Part of me wonders if that has something to do with the concussion, but there isn’t anything I can really do about it now.

You’re gonna be fine. Just imagine everyone in the crowd is Hannah.

That thought alone brings a smile to my face. She’s already sat and listened to me rehearsing this so many times that she could probably recite it from memory too. I wish she could be with me for the real thing, but she’s busy today, so I’ll just have to settle for replacing everyone in the crowd with her smiling, beautiful face.

I arrive at the school, and when I park the bike, I realize how hard I’ve been gripping the handlebars. Frustrated with myself, I tug off my helmet and scrub a hand through my hair as I engage the kickstand.

Get it together, Murray. You play hockey professionally in front of thousands of people all the time. I think you can handle a few hundred students who probably aren’t paying attention to anything you say anyway.

The last point in particular makes it easy to get over myself. This is nothing compared to what I do almost every night, and even if I totally bomb, it’s not like it’s going to be the end of the world. Still, I stand by my bike and run through the entire speech one more time just to make sure I really have it down and head for the school.

I can’t remember the last time I set foot in a high school, but as soon as I step through the doors, I feel like I’ve walked through a portal into a past time in my life. Even though I’m in a different country from where I grew up, suddenly I feel like I’m right back in school myself. I was always so focused on hockey that I missed out on a lot of the other school stuff, so it’s hard not to feel a little wistful as I walk through the main hall toward the office.

“Good afternoon.” A secretary greets me without looking away from her computer when I step inside to check in. But when she glances over and sees me, she jumps in her seat a little and pushes away from her keyboard. “Oh, Mr. Murray. Welcome to Bear River High.”

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat.

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