Page 97 of Cross Check

“What?” My breath stutters, and my foot falls to the floor. “Sure. I mean, yes. Yes, I’d be honored, but what about Elliot?” I ask, since he’s second in command.

“Exactly why we’re taking this walk.” He gives me another mysterious smile when we file out of the elevator. “Time will tell.”

I follow him down the hallway that leads to the team’s administrative offices. I don’t know what the hell is going on when we step into a conference room that’s occupied by Shane Ketteringham, CEO of the Goldminers, who sits at the head of an oval table.

“Afternoon, you two.” Shane gestures to the empty seats. “Pick a chair, any chair.”

At thirty-eight, he’s the youngest CEO in the league. I’ve always admired his go-getting attitude and making aggressive roster changes in the name of being competitive. His goal is to win, and he does whatever he needs to in order to make that happen.

“Hey, Shane.” I pick the chair close to the door, confused why we’re here. We didn’t have any meetings on the schedule for today, and I wonder if I should be nervous about this impromptu conversation. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic. Great call on that play that set up the third-period five-hole goal last night, by the way,” he says. “Jude told me that was all you.”

“Thanks.” I grin and cross my legs. “Detroit’s goalie is notorious for trying to cover too much space in the net. I knew the opportunity would be there, and it was.”

“Because your ability to read the ice is exceptional.” Shane pauses and looks over at Jude. Jude nods, and I still can’t figure out what’s going on. “We’ve had a couple of things happen behind the scenes that have needed our attention over the last few days. Those changes have made us adjust our org chart, which is why we wanted to chat with you today. Effective immediately, Elliot Putnam is leaving his position as our associate coach, and we want to offer you the job.”

I swear the world stops spinning. My hand grips the armrest of the chair as I blink at Shane, positive that I heard him wrong.

“What?” I wet my lips, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Are you serious?”

“You told me I’m not a bullshitter.” Jude slides a stack of papers my way across the table. I glance at the legal jargon on the page, and words like contract and salary increase stand out. “We’d never joke about this.”

“Oh my god.” A laugh races out of me as my eyes blur with tears. The first one falls, and I wipe my cheek before laughing again. “Oh my god. I’m so… honored would be an understatement. But what about Elliot?” I somber at the mention of the man I’ve worked alongside for so many seasons. “Is he okay?”

“More than okay.” Shane smiles. “He was offered a head coaching position with Kansas City’s PWHL team.”

“That’s amazing. Way to go, Putt-Putt,” I whisper, and Jude laughs.

“We’re bummed he’s leaving, but he’ll do great things in that role.” Jude drums his fingers on the table. “And so will you in his previous one.”

“I was not expecting this when I got to work today.” My nose stings, and I sniff. “Thank you both for your confidence in me. I’m so grateful for this opportunity. I love the organization, and it’s an honor to continue my career in Denver.”

“You were at the top of our list, Amelia. You were always at the top of our list,” Shane says. “The press release goes out later this afternoon, and the players are being notified now. Take a look at the contract with your agent, and feel free to reach out if there’s any part you want to discuss further.”

“What do you need from me in the meantime?” I can’t stop smiling. My heart is in my throat when I trace over my name on the paperwork, all of this very real. “I’m always open for feedback.”

“Not a thing. We’re glad to be part of your growth in this league, and I know the sky is the limit for you.” Shane stands, and Jude and I pop to our feet too. He offers me his hand, and I’m filled with pride as I shake it. “Team Green all the way.”

I hold it together until I reach the elevator. When the doors close, I let myself cry. My shoulders shake with the release of a weight I’ve carried since I entered the league. Hard work and manifestation are finally, finally allowing me to take another step closer to my dreams, and I think the sky is the limit for me too.

The night passes in a string of phone calls with Lainey and Sienna—who promised to celebrate with me at breakfast tomorrow morning—and my dad, who cried when I told him the news.

When I finally sit on my couch to decompress, I allow myself to scroll through social media. The Goldminers tagged me on Instagram to share the news, and with a deep breath and a long sip of wine, I dare myself to take a look at the comment section.

@HockeyLover8899

hell yeah! Green is a good fucking coach. Glad she’s sticking around.

@HighLife4me420

She knows her shit. Support this decision 100%.

@MonaJarvis62

she needs to drop her hair care routine because those waves are gorgeous. #womeninsports.

With a smile, I exit out of the app before I stumble on something I don’t want to see. Setting my glass down, I switch over to my text messages where I find an alarming number of notifications. Everyone from old teammates back at Wisconsin to friends around the league have reached out, but the one buried under all the others from earlier in the afternoon grabs my attention first.