Page 1 of Cross Checks

Chapter1

Chase

The Cold Pines Cougars locker room buzzed with the electric energy inspired by victory. We’d clinched a key early season win, and everyone was jubilant.

Some of my teammates sat reliving the game's best moments while others busied themselves with changing into their street clothes. The clatter of lockers opening and closing reached me. It was a happy, familiar sound.

Rick Jensen, one of my co-captains and best friend on the team, held court near his locker. He towered over many of us with a slim, athletic frame and a perfectly tousled head of wavy blond hair. I watched him animatedly recount a play, sharing a grin and gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Man, you should have seen your face when I dished the puck to you.” Jensen turned to me with a light chuckle. “I thought you were gonna leap out of your skates.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was impossible to hold back a smile. “Well, you weren’t exactly Mr. Calm and Cool out there either. I saw that cute little victory dance.”

Jensen laughed, and it was infectious. Soon, the whole group was roaring. We were brothers on the ice, bound by sweat, skill, and our love for the game.

As the group broke apart, I leaned against my locker next to Jensen’s. The ache in my muscles caught up with me—a good kind of pain.

I glanced down at my shirtless body and smiled. Some serious work in the weight room over the summer was worth it. I had the ripped abs to show for my efforts. I ran my right hand slowly down over my chest and belly.

Jensen smirked at me. “Admiring the merchandise, Taylor?”

“Just appreciating the results of my hard work.”

“You’ve done well, kid. Keep it up, and you might give me a run for the money.” His tone was light, but I also heard a touch of sincerity.

“Alright, I’m gonna hit the showers,” I announced as I peeled off the rest of my uniform. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I wove through a sea of players still celebrating.

When the warm water hit my aching muscles, contentment washed over me. The Cold Pine Cougars were more than just the team I played for; they were my chosen family, and I was proud of every one of them.

It was two days before Halloween, and I thought about how I might celebrate. Lou’s, my favorite downtown bar, had a costume contest tomorrow, and I planned to check it out. Waller, our goalie, and one of three co-captains, along with me, said he’d be there and planned to have a surprise for everyone.

Some of the guys brought Jack-o-Lanterns to the locker room to make everything feel more festive. I had to laugh about the one Assistant Coach Hoss carved. Somehow, he perfectly captured Head Coach Zingara’s “stern” face, the one he could never hold when we made him break down and laugh.

The Cougars always did Halloween well. Two years earlier, I had my first season with the team. The guys transformed the locker room into a spooky cave draped in cobwebs and glowing lights.

My buddy, Jensen, came dressed as a zombie hockey player. He even had a puck stuck in his fake bloody forehead. The costume was both scary and hilarious.

I remember when Coach Z saw him and tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work. Soon, he was laughing along with the rest of us.

The following year, we decided to take it up a notch. A group of us got together, and each came as a classic horror movie character. I appeared as a werewolf, complete with shaggy wig and pasted-on body hair.

Jensen was the vampire, swirling his cape around and baring his fangs. He had fake blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

We took our act to Lou’s, our favorite bar downtown. Jack-o-Lanterns and cobwebs added the perfect Halloween ambiance. It was a chance to have fun mingling with the locals, many of them in their own costumes.

As I stepped out of the shower, steam swirled around me. I heard the familiar sounds of locker doors slamming again. Conversation and laughter from my teammates filled the air.

I wrapped the towel back around my waist and strolled across the floor in my rubber shower shoes. On the way out, I grabbed a fresh towel and rubbed it across my damp hair.

Suddenly, somebody yelled, “Watch it! Fuck!”

I pulled the towel back and looked up just in time to see a Jack-o-Lantern teetering dangerously on the edge of the top of a range of unused lockers in the corner. I remember wondering what could have caused it to move, but I didn’t have time to think more about that.

The carved-out pumpkin crashed to the floor, and the candle inside skidded across the floor. As fucked-up luck would have it, the flame instantly caught an old pile of greasy rags on fire. It was like they’d been doused with gasoline. Suddenly, flames started to roar out of control.

A couple of the guys tried to beat the flames out with old jerseys, but they spread too fast, catching old wooden beams and benches on fire. The guys gave up and fled almost as soon as they’d tried to put the blaze out.

The arena was a Cold Pines treasure, but it was ancient, constructed in the 1930s. I doubted the locker rooms had seen much renovation since then.

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