Page 246 of Cross Check

Her husband is there, watching her with a look of adoration. He’s in his gear and holding Murphy, bouncing her up and down while tears stain his cheeks.

“I’m so fucking happy,” she says.

“Was it hard for him?” I ask, watching him grab someone’s phone so he can take a photo of Emmy. “To support you while going after his own dreams?”

“No. He always told me I was his dream.” She waves, laughing when he adjusts Murphy’s headphones that keep slipping off her ears. “I’ve finally learned that boys are the ones who get pissed if their partner has the same level of success as them. Men? They’re perfectly happy with it. And the really great ones will do everything they can to make sure you have the resources to be even better than them.”

I give her one more hug and leave her to celebrate with her teammates. I meander through family members and reporters, smiling at the champagne bottle Thorne pops while he skates toward our goalie to celebrate.

Movement in the tunnel makes me pause, and I crane my neck.

Tucked away in the shadows of the bright lights and out of sight is Grant. Keeping his distance, letting me have this moment. He watches with his own tears and a wide smile that almost cracks me in two.

His lips part, and he mouths something that’s hard to make out. It looks like he’s saying I’m so proud of you, and I’m so proud of me too.

“I’m home after being annihilated by the media.” Grant drops his keys in the bowl in his foyer and shuffles down the hall. He unknots his tie, and when he gets to the kitchen where I’m sitting with a slice of pizza, he grins. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, honey. I’m sorry about the game.”

“No, you’re not. And you shouldn’t be.” He moves my way, kissing the top of my head. “Eastern Conference champions and heading to the Stanley Cup in your first season with the Sea Crabs? You’re a goddamn inspiration, Lia.”

“Emmy told me she wanted to take the shot.” I lean into his embrace, the adrenaline from the night ebbing to the quiet contentment of being back in his arms. “What a goal, huh?”

“I’m so proud of her. Mav was hysterical and wanted to celebrate with her, but Hudson told him we didn’t need allegations about throwing a game so his wife could win. Now that he’s officially retired, it won’t be a conflict of interest.” Grant’s chuckle is warm against my cheek. “He knows about us, by the way.”

“Wait, what?” I pull back and stare at Grant. “How?”

“He caught me waving to you at the last game of the regular season. He promised he’d keep his mouth shut, and I trust him. If he had told anyone else, we’d know by now. I’m sorry for not denying it. I figured with Lainey and Sienna knowing, one more person wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“It’s not, and I’m not mad. It was a matter of time before it happened.” I shrug. “Just means we need to be even more careful if we’re around your teammates together.”

“We will. And Mav will take the secret to his grave.” Grant threads his fingers through my hair. “I have two surprises for you.”

“Do you?”

“Yup. It’s a big night that deserves a lot of celebration.” He drops his hand and digs in his pocket. He sets a puck in front of me with a smile. “To commemorate your monumental victory. Mav stole the one from Emmy’s goal—I wasn’t going to argue with him about that—so I snagged this one from the refs.”

“Really?” I lift the puck and run my fingers over the ridges. “This is for me?”

“It is. I thought you could put it in your office at the arena. Whatever happens next, you’ll always have a piece of tonight.”

“Thank you.” I tug on his tie until his mouth is close to mine. I kiss him, the weeks of being apart melting away when he nips at my bottom lip. “You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“And you’re mine.” He squeezes my backside and gives the cheek a light smack. “Your other surprise is in the fridge.”

“Is something going to pop out at me?”

“Fuck, I hope not. You know I don’t do scary things. Being dragged to those haunted houses in Orlando last October was my idea of hell.”

I kiss his cheek and pull away, padding over to the fridge. When I open it, I frown at the white boxes inside.

“Food?” I ask, grabbing both of them.

“In a sense. Close your eyes for a second,” he says, taking the heavy boxes from me. My eyelashes flutter closed, and I smile while he hums a song under his breath. “Thank you for your patience.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat with anticipation.”

“So am I. Okay. Come on over, baby.”