He tried not to be disappointed when he didn’t spot Rusty on his way in. They were going to get together later. It would’vebeen stupid for Rusty to stand in the drizzling rain with the autograph-seekers.
The locker room had a relaxed vibe. They’d clinched the wildcard slot already. A loss couldn’t drop them out of the playoffs and a win couldn’t move them up the rankings, so basically it was meaningless. Not that they didn’t want to win, but no one was going to kill themselves to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Zykov would be in goal, resting Pushkin for the playoffs. A couple of rookies, called up to replace players on the short-term injured list, would get more playing minutes tonight, a chance to show the coach what they could do.
Cross stripped down and got his workout clothes on. Dodging an errant spikeball from where some of the younger guys had the net out, he put his headphones on and began a quick jog on a treadmill to get his muscles warming up. Past the music, he could hear his teammates joking around, chirping each other for everything and nothing. As he moved on to resistance band exercises, the guys around him settled into their own routines.
Cross realized how much he enjoyed this part, the anticipation and build. Everyone on the team putting in the time and the work, individually but together, before heading out onto the ice. He liked feeling his body tune in to the job ahead, muscles activating, joints loosening. He had a few aches and pains, of course, by his age. His right knee took more time to warm up and stretch, ever since surgery five years before. His lower back twinged now and then, tighter than he’d like on the knee-hugs. But his body still served him, still woke up to do the job he’d loved since the first time he laced up skates.
By the time they stepped onto the ice to the roar of the crowd, Cross was feeling great. He was going to play an excellent game, he could tell. Having Rusty and Marie in the audience just madeit better. Hopefully. As long as nothing went wrong between them.
A second of doubt had him catching a blade and he had to recover awkwardly.
Right, bozo. You can’t play an excellent game if your head’s off in the crowd. Focus.
He refocused, cut behind the net and went to take his turn at a shooting drill. Tonight, he was going to be Cross, the star defenseman for the Rafters, putting on a clinic for anyone with doubts about how good this team could be in the playoffs. He wouldn’t even try to find Rusty or Marie in the stands. Later. Non-hockey life stuff could come later.
Seven more minutes and the puck would drop for the first faceoff. He cut close to the boards and flipped a loose puck over the glass for a young girl with a rainbow sign. Meant for Scott, of course. No one knew it applied to him too. But the least he could do was reward her.
Five more minutes. He gave up and turned to scan the seats. This was his last chance. They’d bring the lights down for the intros and anthem soon, and then he’d be busy. He knew the general section where the players’ reserved seats were. Just center of the blue line, seven to ten rows up on the north side… There. He spotted Rusty’s blond hair, his head higher than the people on either side of him. Beside him, Marie had gone bright auburn again. They sat turned to each other, saying something. Pleasure and worry clashed nauseatingly in Cross.
Then Rusty glanced down. For a second, they gazed at each other. Cross raised a glove, pivoting to put Marie off the scent, the gesture so broad he could be waving to anyone in a thirty-seat radius. Rusty would know it was for him, though—
Scott thumped Cross on the shoulder. “You’re looking a bit distracted. Come on, we have a game to play.”
“Right.” Cross followed his teammate off the ice as the Zamboni began to hum its way onto the rink.
Chapter 13
Cross’s sister wasn’t much like him. Rusty could see a little facial resemblance around the cheekbones and nose, but she was a green-eyed redhead instead of a gray-eyed brunet, and a couple of willowy inches taller than her brother. She was also far more outgoing and talkative.
She’d arrived shortly before the end of warmups. Rusty had been eyeing the empty seat and wondering if maybe he’d dodged the bullet but no, she was just late. Well, on time if you had no interest in watching the guys warm up.
She smiled at him as she lowered herself gracefully into the seat, tucking her skirt around her legs and crossing her ankles in low-heeled strappy shoes. “Hi, you must be RJ’s friend. He said look for the hockey player and I’m pretty sure that’s you.”
The seats around them held a typical assortment of hockey fans but no one else who looked athletic and in their twenties, so that didn’t make her a mind reader. “Yes. Rusty.” He shook her hand when she held it out.
“I’m Marie. RJ’s sister. How do you two know each other?”
“From this summer. Scott Edison’s ranch. I was working there when Cross stayed for a few weeks.”
“Oh! I was shocked when RJ told us what happened. I’m glad everyone was all right.”
Mike wasn’t all right.His brother’s loss stabbed Rusty in the gut, a pang so unexpected he almost doubled over. But Mariehad never known Mike, even Cross hadn’t. It wasn’t her fault those words hurt. “It was a rough time.”
“And now you’re here? And you play hockey? Not for the Rafters though?”
“God, no. Not even for the Tornados. I’m in the ECHL down in Eugene.”
“ECHL? That’s, like, a lower league, right?”
“Yep.” He grinned to show he was fine with that. “But I’m a big Rafters fan and it’s cool of Cross to let me use a seat tonight. This is only like the second NHL game I’ve ever been to.” Scott had given Rusty a ticket and insisted he come to opening night this season when the cheers and rainbow banners for Scott had out-thundered the applause for their captain. That had been an experience he would never forget. But there was something cool about just being here on an ordinary no-pressure game day.
“I’ve been to quite a few. I try to see RJ play at least three or four times a year, and he’s been in the league a long time now.”
Rusty shifted in his seat uncomfortably.Way to rub it in.But she didn’t know. “He’s got a lot of years left to play. You’ll probably end up in the hundreds before he’s done.”
“Maybe. Although he has a job waiting for him with the family firm whenever decides to retire.”
“He loves hockey,” Rusty pointed out. “I can’t see that happening any time soon.”
