Page 65 of Cross Checks

With a light sigh, I said, “I guess this falls in that category of necessary evils.”

Carla ushered us into a bright conference room with a stack of documents awaiting me. It included contracts, medical forms and waivers. The pile of papers needing signatures and initials seemed endless.

Carla patiently guided me through each one, explaining all the details and answering any questions that came up.

Hank sat beside me, occasionally giving my hand a squeeze. He also brought his good humor and cracked a few jokes. It made the mundane paperwork a bit more bearable.

“Think of it as signing autographs,” he suggested. “A cute little boy or girl is holding each of those forms. Some of them even have glossy printed out photos of you.”

Carla grinned.

“I’m just glad I’m not developing a case of writer’s cramp,” I insisted and flexed my fingers dramatically.

Once I’d finished the paperwork, the team photographer arrived. Carla handed me my new jersey, number 93. I sniffed, and it smelled new.

The cameraman had me hold it up while he snapped a few pictures. “Welcome to the Florida Panthers,” Carla beamed. “You are now officially part of the team.”

Hank pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of his own. “I’m sending these right to Mom and Dad, Lyle, and I think I’ve got Jensen’s number, too.”

“Make sure you get my good side,” I joked as I turned to the left.

The team photographer was more demanding. He was bossy about following his suggested poses, and he shot more of me alone, a few with Hank, and finally, a few with Carla and some of the staff.

After the photoshoot, we left the building and stepped back out into the Florida sunshine. I took a deep breath. It was all just the beginning of my journey with the Panthers. I couldn’t wait to lace up my skates and glide out onto the ice, but I would have to wait twenty-four more hours for that.

“Let’s go celebrate,” Hank suggested, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Would you like lunch at the beach. I think I remember Carla pointing out a good place for seafood nearby.

After a morning spent inside a boring office, the idea of visiting the beach was irresistible. I could already nearly feel the sand between my toes. Hank called for a ride to take us there.

As the car wound its way through the streets of Sunrise, the urban landscape gave way to a relaxed, coastal style. The air was more humid, and it was easy to smell the saltiness of the Atlantic Ocean.

“We’re actually here,” I grinned as I squeezed Hank’s thigh. My new reality was starting to sink in layer by layer.

“It’s a new beginning,” declared Hank. “Soak it all in.”

The car pulled into a parking lot overlooking the beach. As we stepped out, the first thing that struck was the breezy, sultry air. It contrasted sharply with the harsh winters in Maine. I inhaled deeply and savored the warm atmosphere.

The water off the beach was a breathtaking blend of blues and greens with foamy white caps crashing onto the sand. The January breeze was a little chillier than I expected, but it was still a far cry from the temperature in Cold Pines.

Hank and I strolled toward the water with our sneakers sinking into the soft sand. The rhythmic sound of the waves hitting the shore calmed me. It helped dissolve the last bits of lingering stress.

“Ready to test the water?” Hank asked. He had a look of mischief in his eyes.

Before I could answer, he took off jogging across the sand toward the water. I tore after him, feeling like a kid who’d been set loose in an endless sandy playground.

When we reached the water’s edge, the coolness of the surf was a shock to our systems. I kept my sneakers on, but I splashed into the water up to my knees. I couldn’t believe I was wading in the Atlantic Ocean in January.

While we took a long walk along the beach, we touched on all sorts of topics in our conversation—hopes for the future, favorite Cold Pines memories, and the adventures we had ahead in Florida.

I leaned in, resting my head on Hank’s shoulder. “This is the life. I think all of my wishes are coming true all at once.”

We found a bench and sat where we could look out over the waves. “And this is only the beginning,” Hank added. We’ve got so much to explore and experience together.”

The buzzing of Hank’s phone interrupted our serene afternoon. He pulled it from his pocket and showed me Lyle’s name flashing on the screen.

“I wonder what he’s calling about,” Hank mused before he answered. He held the phone so we could both see, and when he answered, Lyle’s rosy face filled the screen. He was outside, wearing a stocking cap.

“Damn, makes me cold just looking at him,” I whispered.

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