Page 137 of Cross Check

“That was incredibly kind of Brody,” I agree. “And the Stars are honoring Mitchell’s contract.”

“We’d do the same here. No one should be punished for an accident that was out of their control.” He leans against the doorframe. “Speaking of contracts, I heard a rumor that Baltimore’s head coach is in hot water after their ten-game losing streak stretched to eleven.”

“It’s been that many? Brutal.”

“Not good for team morale. It got me wondering about when you’re going to spread your wings and leave Denver for a head coaching gig. You’re a better candidate than that idiot working for the Sea Crabs.”

“Jude.” I roll my eyes. “We have a game in forty-five minutes. Why are we talking about head coaching gigs?”

“We’re just having a conversation.” His lips twitch. “And I’m gauging your curiosity in becoming a head coach.”

“Are you that interested in getting rid of me?”

“Not at all. I’m interested in watching you grow as a leader. That means taking the next logical step, which is a head coaching spot.”

“I like what we’re building here. We’ve had four solid years in a row, and this one might be the one where we bring the Cup back to Denver. I want to see that through.”

“I respect that, and I’m glad for your loyalty. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re tied to me forever.” Jude smiles. “You deserve to find your own success, Amelia, and to cement yourself in this league as a powerhouse. It doesn’t have to be with me.”

“Well.” I shift on my feet and fix my blazer. His faith in me is nothing new, but this feels more tangible. A gentle push in the direction I should move next. “Something to think about, I guess.”

“I guess,” he teases. “Wanted to pass that along, that’s all.”

I head back to my desk and weigh his words. Becoming a head coach in this league would be a dream. The thing I’ve worked toward since I started at Wisconsin, and I don’t know why I haven’t made the leap. Change doesn’t scare me; the possibility of failure does. I have a safety net here, but I wonder if it’s time for me to stop being cautious. In life, in my career.

Jude’s right.

I do deserve the chance to find my own success, to solidify my name as its own entity. That means accepting the nudge toward something more, and I vow to be more open to taking risks.

What’s the harm in trying?

“That’s what I’m talking about, Ultzman.” I put a hand on his shoulder and give him a shake after his second goal of the night. “And great assist, Castle.”

The two guys knock their sticks together and grin on the bench. Ultzman has given us a one-goal lead on DC, and it’s pumped life into the team.

Sharp offense, great goaltending by Baystrong, and crowd enthusiasm has fueled the boys on every possession. It’s the same chemistry that’s helped us compile a league-best record through the first two months of the season, and we’re proving why we’re the favorites to win the Cup.

Hockey is always fun, but it’s even more fun when you’re winning and the team is clicking.

“Dude is on fire,” Jude says as Baystrong blocks another shot with an outstretched glove. “If he doesn’t win the Vezina, I’m complaining to the league.”

“Settle down there, overzealous. He’s been damn good all year, but we have six months to go,” I say.

We make another line change, and Ultzman scoops up the puck again. He heads toward Sullivan on the other end, but he’s intercepted by Hudson Hayes who kicks it over to Ryan Seymour. Seymour keeps possession for a beat before passing the puck to Grant.

I can’t deny how well Grant has played tonight. His ability to read the ice has progressed drastically since his rookie season. He’s more confident in his shot-taking abilities. Quicker and more efficient with his movements. Biased opinions because of our friendship aside, I’d easily put him in the top thirty players in the league.

He demonstrates that developed talent by moving forward. Eyes up, his stick in his left hand. He’s played all season on that side, and I suck in a breath as he advances out of the neutral zone.

I’ve watched him play enough times to know what comes next.

Grant skates to the right, only to cut over to the left and send a perfect backhand shot into the corner of the net before Baystrong has the chance to register what’s happening. Our fans boo, and the Stars players surround him. They pat his head and give his shoulder a shake. He moves toward his bench and knocks his knuckles against his teammates’ gloves before cutting over to Sullivan to give him a high five.

After accepting a congratulatory stick tap from his goalie, Grant heads for our bench. He skates past, purposeful as he looks my way, grins, and fucking winks.

The goddamn audacity.

A blush creeps up my neck. I dip my chin and study the whiteboard I’m holding instead of giving any attention to the blatant cockiness of number thirty-six.