Page 244 of Cross Check

I hide my beam behind a sip of water.

The Sea Crabs take home a commanding 4-1 win. When the final buzzer sounds, Amelia pumps her fist, showing unbridled excitement for the first time all night. She hugs the coach on her right and gives a high-five to the players on the bench.

“Those are our girls,” Maverick says, lifting his chin to where Amelia and Emmy are embracing. “How lucky are we?”

“Really lucky,” I say, and I swear Lia looks my way again with the biggest smile on her face.

SEVENTY-SIX

AMELIA

MAY, ONE SEASON AGO

I close my coaching notebook and stand. I grab my green blazer off the back of the chair and slide it up my arms, stopping to fix my high ponytail. A month and a half of into the postseason, and the movements still don’t feel normal.

None of my life feels normal. It’s a surreal dream I’m living every day I wake up, and I hope that never changes.

The Sea Crabs have charged through the playoffs as the underdogs no one thought would survive the first round. Victory after victory have led us to the precipice of the biggest matchup of my career, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

We’ve made it to game seven of the Eastern Conference finals. The last stop before having a shot at playing for the Cup, and I’m more nervous now than I ever was as an athlete. It’s knowing I can only draw up the plays, not help execute them on the ice that has me anxious, and I twist the bracelet clasped around my wrist until it’s straight.

“Coach.” A soft knock on the open door drags my eyes away from my jewelry and to Daniel Belmont, my associate coach. “You’re up.”

“Thanks, Daniel.” I smile and adjust my collar, striding to the visitors’ locker room where twenty hockey players sit. “Evening. How are we feeling?”

“Prepared.” Thorne’s gaze locks on mine. “We’re ready.”

“Good. We’ve had a hell of a season, haven’t we?” I ask, and they all nod in agreement. “We went from the bottom of the league to a playoff team. We’ve held our own against an experienced and hungry DC team, and you should be proud of how you’ve performed. Every analyst picked us to lose this series in four games, but we’re still out here fighting. And we’re going to keep fighting until the buzzer tonight. No matter what happens, I want you all to know I’m proud of you.” I take a second to gather myself and make eye contact with each player in the room. “We’re walking out of here as winners, and that’s what is most important.”

With a final look around the room, I step into the tunnel to give the players a minute alone. It also gives me a chance to stop my hands from shaking. The confidence I’m doing my best to project as the team’s fearless leader wavers, and I run through my mantras.

Confidence in, doubt out.

I can do hard things.

Matching up against DC—and Grant—over the last two weeks has been both thrilling and nerve-racking. It’s been a test for us, and we were in agreement that the series was the priority, not our personal relationship. We’ve slept at our own apartments. We’ve kept our texting to a minimum, and we’ve barely acknowledged each other when we’ve crossed paths in person.

It’s better this way.

It lets me keep the different parts of my life separate, but I’m excited to see him at his place tonight.

I hope it’s with a win under my belt.

“How are you feeling, Coach?” Bethany Ambrose, our assistant coach, taps my shoulder. “Excited?”

“And nervous,” I say. “Any last-minute changes I need to know about?”

“Nope. The Stars are sticking with their lineup from game six, and so are we.” At the end of the tunnel, the hometown crowd roars. Goosebumps pop up under my blazer, and I shiver. “That’s our cue.”

I nod and lead the way, with Bethany and Daniel trailing behind. The players pass us, each knocking their knuckles against ours as they do. Out in the arena, I survey the stands. The game might be in DC, but plenty of Baltimore fans made the short trip to cheer on the team. I take my spot behind the bench and grab a small whiteboard to test out the dry-erase marker I like to use.

It’s the exact same routine I’ve done every other game, and we’re too deep in the hunt to change anything now.

Marker ready to go, I tuck it in my pocket. I chance a glance at the opposite end of the ice and find Grant stretching next to Ethan. He laughs, but then he straightens. He looks right back at me, and there’s a gleam in his eye.

He doesn’t say anything or make a move to come this way. He stays perfectly in place except for the hand he puts over his heart. He taps his chest twice then dips his chin, a message of encouragement I know is for me.

Subtle, but profound.