Page 98 of Cross Check Hearts

“While I’m sure our guest today needs no introduction—he’s a bit of a local hero at the moment—I’d like to formally welcome Declan Murray, the newest member of the Denver Aces. Let’s give him a warm Bear River welcome!”

The students clap as requested but don’t go crazy, which makes me wonder if they really do know who I am, or if they just think I’m some random guy who came to lecture them just like the rest of their teachers.

Mrs. Cyprus keeps hyping me up, giving a bit of backstory to the kids about how I spent years grinding before I finally got my big break with the Aces. I try to stay focused on her words, but my nerves are getting to me and making it difficult to stay right here in this room. I don’t know where I’m going, but I feel like I’m drifting away.

It’s not until Mrs. Cyprus extends an arm and beckons me forward that I realize it’s showtime. Panicked, I reach into my pocket for the folded piece of paper with my speech scribbled on it and step up to the podium to drop the piece of paper on the little shelf. I clear my throat and take a look out at the crowd, which is a mistake because it makes my palms even sweatier than they already are.

It’s fine. They’re just hundreds of copies of Hannah, remember?

Nodding to encourage myself, I discreetly wipe my palms on my pants and lean closer to the mic.

“Hello, everyone. Thanks so much for having me.” The auditorium instantly falls silent, and every pair of eyes in the place locks on to me. It’s so quiet in the cavernous space that I can hear a faint buzzing coming from somewhere, probably the audio system. Someone at the back of the crowd coughs.

“It’s kind of crazy to be up here, honestly,” I start. “If anyone had asked me even a year ago if I thought I’d be doing something like this, I would’ve said, ‘absolutely not.’ But here I am.” I unfold the paper containing my speech, and the mic picks up the crinkling as I smooth it out, carrying it through the entire auditorium. But I might as well have skipped bringing the notes because just like I feared might happen, the letters are swimming all over the page in front of me—and everything I thought I’d memorized runs right out of my ears as panic pools inside me.

“I—I started my journey into hockey many years ago, and pretty much everyone around me thought I was crazy for daring to think I’d make it to the NHL someday. It wasn’t easy but…” I trail off as I try to focus on the words, but it’s like the letters on the page don’t want to be seen. They hide behind each other or run from my gaze, turning into an indecipherable alphabet soup.

Shit, this is a trainwreck. Snap out of it!

I clear my throat again. “Sorry, my notes got a little messed up so it’s hard to read.”

It’s not the full truth of why I’m having such a hard time reading my own writing, but it’s close enough. When I glance back up at the crowd and see everyone staring blankly at me, some of them whispering to each other, my heart hammers so hard in my chest that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out right here at the podium.

But then, impossibly, I see Hannah in the crowd.

At first I think I’m imagining things or having some kind of anxiety-induced hallucination, but when she smiles at me, I realize she’s actually here. I don’t know how she got here—she said she was going to be busy with school stuff today—but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is she’s really here and somehow that gives me the courage to say what I really want to say.

“You know what? Forget this,” I say, tearing the piece of paper into several shreds, eliciting confused laughter from the audience. “I was going to get up here and talk about all my struggles and the journey to this point, but it’s not authentic. Here’s the deal: I’m dyslexic. And that’s exactly why I’m having a hard time reading this speech.”

Another round of hushed whispers rushes through the audience, and even Hannah looks at me with wide eyes. But after a beat, she nods like she’s encouraging me, and I feel my heart swell in my chest. Because if she accepts me, then nothing else matters. And I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I was encouraging her to live authentically and honestly if I wasn’t doing the same thing.

The truth is, I’m not ashamed of having dyslexia. Why should I be? It makes certain things more difficult for me, but it doesn’t define me any more than being a hockey player does. It’s just one part of who I am. Hannah sees that. She likes me for theentiretyof who I am, not despite it.

“It’s true. It’s been a constant battle, ever since I was little. A lot of people didn’t think I was ever going to amount to anything because of it, but I did. And I’m here to tell you that every single one of you can do the same thing, no matter what anyone else says. I know it sounds simple, and that’s because it is when you boil it down, but all you have to do is find what matters to you, whatreallymatters, and hold on to it tight. Because once you know what you want, everything else becomes clear and falls right into place.”

My gaze lands back on Hannah, who’s beaming at me with one hand pressed lightly to her chest. She has to know I’m talking about her, even if no one else in the room does. It strikes me what the point of this speech really was all along—being honest with myself about how I’m feeling for her.

“So whatever you decide to do when you leave here, make sure it’s something that matters. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks—not your friends, not your family—because at the end of the day, it’s your life and you only get the one to live. You might as well do what makes you happy, what you really want to do. For me, one of my dreams was hockey. I never let go of it, no matter how many people told me I should or that I was never going to make it. I can’t wait to see the rest of you do the same thing. Thank you.”

I step back from the podium and the audience erupts in cheers and applause. The principal hurries over and puts her hand on my shoulder, then takes the mic to thank me and the students for coming. We’re doing a meet and greet afterward for anyone who wants pictures with me, but it’s going to take some time for that to get set up, so I make a beeline down the aisle toward Hannah.

She steps forward to meet me, and I pull her into my arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I murmur. “But I’m so fucking glad you are. I don’t think I would’ve made it through without you.”

“Did you really think I’d miss this?” She gives me a radiant smile. “I skipped class to come and watch. Besides, it’s like you said, when you know what you want, everything is clear.”

Unable to resist, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, not caring who sees. Because I am head over heels for this woman.

Chapter43

Hannah

The woman staring back at me from the bathroom mirror has a confidence I barely recognize. Her blue and green eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed, her lips curving upward in a satisfied smile. Half-dressed in just my bra and panties, I lean closer to the mirror to check my handiwork as I brush on the last few swipes of mascara. My carefully applied makeup isn’t the only reason I’m glowing—honestly, it’s because of everything that’s happening with Declan.

For the first time in forever, I feel like I’m truly living.

I’m not super excited about going to this alumni mixer at my school tonight, even though I know it will be good for me and my career, but knowing that Declan will be there with me makes it more bearable. At least this way, while all the super ambitious people are brown nosing for jobs and networking opportunities, I’ll have someone to talk to who isn’t trying to work me for something.

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