Crosscheck Page 5

  Those were the kind of athletes she’d never really cared for. Hot dogs, she’d always called them, and their antics were always accompanied by a massive roll of the eyes.

  Yet there Zane was, tapping fists with his teammates on the bench as he skated by them to the penalty box.

  She had no idea what the offense had been, but nobody seemed particularly surprised that he was headed there so early in the game.

  “And really, Todd, you’ve gotta wonder why a team keeps a guy like Zamboni on their squad. Animal on the ice, but at what cost? A powerplay this early in the game against the Bruins isn’t exactly a good move,” one of the commentators said.

  “Well, I can see the beauty of having a bruiser on the team, John,” came the reply. “The guy makes things happen, and there is no denying his skills with the stick either. He’s strategic, even in his physicality, and most of the time, he knows right where the line is between playing hard and a penalty.”

  “Be that as it may, at some point, he’s gotta be considered for a suspension. If he can’t play clean, he shouldn’t play.”

  Mara found herself glaring at the screen, though the commentators weren’t visible now that play had resumed on the ice.

  “He can play clean, John. The question everybody has really got to ask is what does Coach Winkler see in Zamboni? He knows exactly what he is dealing with there, and he’s hanging onto him. That’s gotta speak for itself.”

  Mara nodded in agreement, then caught herself and scowled at nothing in particular. She didn’t know Zane or his playing well enough to be agreeing on this particular subject, or any other subject, but this seemed fair enough. What she knew of the Tennessee Hounds program was that their coach was an up-and-comer, a cowboy in the coaching world, and he seemed to be making some strides with the team. When Mara was growing up, their team had been a bit of a joke, but no one laughed about them now. They might not have made it to the championships yet, but they had certainly proven themselves a formidable opponent.

  The last few years especially.

  Could that have something to do with Zane? She wasn’t naive enough to think he could carry an entire team into victory, especially when he was a defender and not likely to score a goal at any given time. But there was something to be said for a player’s attitude and drive and for the ability of those qualities to motivate an entire team.

  Mara watched Zane as best as she could while he sat in the penalty box, though it wasn’t like the cameraperson had any interest in a player not currently on the ice. From what she could tell, he watched every move on the ice and cheered his teammates on. He didn’t seem overly concerned about being in there, and somehow, he wasn’t distracted by the fans clamoring for him around the penalty box.

  Completely focused on the game, even when he wasn’t in it.

  Interesting.

  Okay, so he pounded on the plexiglass behind him once or twice, and when his teammates did something that got the crowd going, he gestured for them to get louder. But his eyes were always on the ice.

  And somehow, his team scored a goal during the penalty, despite being down a man.

  The crowd went ballistic.

  The announcers were lost.

  “I don’t even know how that’s possible, John. How do you score a goal on a team like this when you are down a man, especially when that man is Zamboni?”

  “Todd, I’m sure the Bruins are asking themselves that same question. You might want to ask Coach Wink what other tricks he has up his sleeve, because there is no way Zamboni’s penalty was an accident after a move like that. We’ve gotta watch this team and this coach, folks, because there is magic in the air in Tennessee!”

  Mara found herself grinning at the screen, disappointed that she wasn’t at the arena with the fans watching this game in person. What an insane moment.

  “And with the goal, the teams line up again, still without Zamboni. Forty-five more seconds for him. Since the team with the advantage was not the team who scored, the two-minute penalty does not end. Not unheard of in hockey but certainly not that common, and certainly not against a tough team like the Bruins.”

  “You’re absolutely right, John, and the Bruins have gotta be smarting after that, so the Hounds need every advantage they have. Zamboni’s chomping at the bit in there, you can just see how much he wants to be back out there now that the play is done.”

  “If his team can hold off an angry Bruins squad with an advantage, we’re going to get one amped-up Zamboni out there to make up for lost time.”

  There was a laugh from the commentators. “An amped-up Zamboni. Considering the level he already plays at, what would amped up look like for him?”

  “Todd, I don’t wanna know.”

  They laughed again, and Mara laughed with them.

  Why, she didn’t know, but she knew she’d be pulling out her phone to track down some Hounds clothing to wear when the game went to intermission. She might have been ambivalent about the team before, but she was completely invested now.

  There wasn’t anything wrong with that, right?

  She was a Tennessee girl. She could cheer for a Tennessee team without it meaning anything in particular.

  She should have been watching them a long time ago, if she was honest. But better late than never, and she’d be able to thank Hope Winchester for that.

  Not her dad.

  He hadn’t been the one to tell her he played for them; he’d only confirmed it. Hope had told Mara he played hockey.

  What would Zane have said?

  Finally, his penalty was up and he skated out of the box with an almost frenzied edge to his motion. Mara bit back a squeal, her hands going to her lap in excitement as she watched him race towards his team’s zone. He swept to the right and clocked an opponent hard into the boards, then darted behind the goal, scooping up the puck and sending it screaming around the boards, out of danger and into the hands of a teammate who could continue the momentum forward.

  Mara released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and sank back against the couch roughly.

  How pathetic was she? Hanging on by a thread over a team she couldn’t have cared about before this, just because she had met one guy on the team.

  One guy. One very tall, very hot, very adorable dad of a hockey player whose relationship status was unidentifiable and whose daughter Mara would see in class on Saturday.

  One guy, and now she was hooked on this sport and this team.

  Absolutely pathetic.

  She moodily watched as Zane and his co-defender skated to the bench while two others came on, managing only a weak smile as she watched him bump fists with a few of the teammates there.

  Falling for a guy at first look was one thing; falling for a guy she could never, would never, should never have—for more reasons than she had fingers—was just wrong.

  She was supposed to be beyond this stupidity now.

  Hadn’t she been through enough faux relationships in her life to learn that lesson?

  A tinny version of elevator music sounded, and Mara glanced around for her cell phone. After fumbling between the cushions, she pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and hit the answer button.

  “Hi, Mama,” she said in a falsely bright tone, grabbing the remote and muting the game.

  “Hey, Mars. What are you doing tonight? I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  Mara rolled her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t have answered if you were interrupting.”

  “Well, I don’t know, maybe you need an escape phone call,” her mom suggested, a teasing note in her voice. “That does happen, you know.”

  “On dates, Mama. People need escape calls on dates.”

  “I know that.”

  Mara heaved a sigh. “You have to go on dates to need an escape call on a date.”

  “So go on a date.”

  “Did you just call me to see if I was dating?” Mara demanded as she ran her fingers along her scalp in a sort of massage.r />
  Her mother laughed once. “Of course not! What are you doing now?”

  Mara bit her lip, chewing in hesitation for a moment. “Watching a Hounds hockey game.”

  “Really?” her mother asked in surprise. “Why?”

  “One of the little girls in my class has a dad on the team,” she replied truthfully. “Thought I’d check it out.”

  More like check him out, but her mother didn’t need to know that.

  “Oh! Your father has been watching the Hounds this season. Who’s the player?”

  Mara hissed and winced. “Not sure I should tell you, Mama. They’re really private about the whole thing. Like really private.”

  “You can tell me, Mars. I won’t tell your father, and nobody I know likes hockey.”

  That was true, and her mother was a vault when it came to secrets, unlike any of her siblings. But still . . .

  “It’s not my secret to tell, Mom,” Mara said softly. “I don’t know them well, so you really need to keep this quiet.”

  “I can do that, hon. Croissant my heart.”

  Mara smiled, laughing softly at the old family joke. Bakery life was just special, and no one outside of it would really get it. “That serious?”

  “Sounds like it should be.”

  “It should.” Mara took in a quick breath. “It’s Zane Winchester. His daughter, Hope, is in my class.”

  Her mother made a noncommittal sound. “I’ll keep my eyes open when I catch snippets of the game with your dad. The name means nothing to me, but I’m sure I’ll find him.”

  “He’s kind of hard to miss, Mom,” Mara replied with a laugh. “He’s the one who’s always knocking people over and slamming them into the boards.”

  “Oh my. An aggressive guy. Be careful.”

  Mara shook her head, though her mom wouldn’t be able to see that. “He’s not like that in person. You should see him with his little girl. So sweet and funny, and she just adores him.”

  “Sounds like you like him yourself.”

  Yikes. That obvious?

  “I like any guy who treats his daughter like that,” Mara told her with real honesty. “I ran into them at the mall the other night, and he didn’t pull out his cell phone once. Hope had his entire attention.”

  “Now that sounds like a guy I would like. Consider me a fan.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear it. If I ever see him again, I’ll be sure to tell him.” She looked at the TV again, wondering how long Zane would be off the ice. The front line had switched twice now without him coming back out, and the game wasn’t as fun without him out there. The team was just as good but not particularly exciting.

  Interesting.

  “Would you go to a hockey game with me, Mama? Soon?” Mara heard herself ask. “Daddy can come too, and we can invite others, but it might be fun with just us.”

  “I think that would be a fun night! Let me talk with your father, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t want to. We’ll have to get ourselves some team shirts, though. I’ve seen the stands when he watches the home games, and there is no way we can enter that place without team apparel. How about their next home game?”

  Mara grinned as Zane and his co-defender came back out onto the ice, drawing her knees up to her chest as her heart pattered a little. “I think I can handle that. What kind of team apparel did you have in mind?”

  “Oh yay. Overtime. My favorite.”

  “Shut up.”

  “That’s not a nice word.”

  “That’s because it’s two words, genius.”

  “Cut it out, both of you.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Zane grinned at Boomer, his co-defender, and he grinned back. They were in a ridiculous mood tonight, and when they got into bantering, Shap got bossy. He was the captain, so he had a right to it, but Zane and Boomer never let him get too far.

  Shap was tense with the tie at the end of the third, going into overtime, and Zane could understand that. There was no way they should have tied, not with the power they had in their front lines. But the Eagles had a goalie that was on fire tonight, and though they had outshot the Eagles at least three to one during the game, the score was only two apiece.

  Not a great night for them.

  Zane, for one, was exhausted. They’d been on the road for days and got stuck in Denver while a snowstorm cleared out on their way back from LA. They’d gotten home in time to keep their game with the Eagles on the docket, but without much actual rest for the team. He wouldn’t blame their performance tonight on that, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

  He’d hide that as much as he could. He was a veteran player, known for high energy no matter what, and times like these were when it mattered most.

  But when three guys on the bench were hiding yawns, motivation would need to be something epic if it were to have any effect.

  The buzzer sounded the end of the third period, and Zane was the first one on his feet, thumping his stick against the ground to the tempo of the crowd’s chants. His teammates picked up on it and kept it going, the crowd behind the box catching the beat.

  Zane grinned as his teammates on the ice skated towards them, coming off for intermission but hearing the stomping the crowd was sending up.

  “Come on!” Zane bellowed, turning to the crowd and gesturing with his arms.

  As he’d hoped, a sort of wave started as people got to their feet, carrying the rhythm to another level as they stomped and clapped, the sound wrapping around the arena, rippling among the crowd. The once relatively sleepy spectators were now almost all on their feet, team banners waving above heads.

  “Nice,” Boomer commented as they followed their teammates out of the box and into the locker rooms. “Think they can ride that until we come back out?”

  “They better,” Zane muttered to him. “Between staying awake and staying in the game, I’m not sure I’ve got it in me.”

  Boomer grunted and tapped his helmet in solidarity. They headed into the locker room with the rest, and Zane was happy to see that there was a little more pep in the step of his teammates and that no one looked as tired as he felt.

  If they could just skate it out in overtime long enough to score, they could all get the rest they wanted so much.

  Zane removed his helmet and shook his head hard, exhaling roughly as he sat down at his locker.

  He was going to miss bedtime tonight. That happened every now and then, but he didn’t like it. Hope’s life had been disrupted enough as it was.

  Leaning back into his locker a touch, he reached for his phone to text Josie and, by extension, Hope. A missed call caught his eye, and he swiped for more info.

  Michelle.

  He stared at the screen longer than he should, his frown deepening, his emotions exploding in seven different directions.

  What the hell did she want?

  She hadn’t left him a message, so it couldn’t be that important. If she was going to argue the alimony amounts one more time, she could talk to his lawyer, just as she had all the other times. His case was ironclad, and unless she decided to take her parenting of Hope seriously, nothing was going to change.

  “Heads up,” Flake, his locker neighbor, muttered with a nudge.

  Zane glanced up to see Coach Wink head in, and he zipped off his auto message for situations like these. Josie would get it, and he’d make up for it with Hope tomorrow night.

  Hopefully, his punishment would be only two more books than normal. Last time, she’d made him sing her songs, and he’d had to make some up, which had done nothing to put her to sleep but everything to keep her giggling way past her bedtime.

  He knew it would come back to haunt him one day; it was only a matter of time.

  Sliding the phone into his bag, he tuned back in to the present and listened attentively as Coach Wink gave them their strategy and marching orders.

  He would admit to being slightly distracted, though.

  He ground his teeth at the thought of Miche
lle, that same old flare of anger and resentment hitting his gut. He shook his head to himself, forcing a slow exhale through his nose. He didn’t need any more complications in his life than he’d already had, and he certainly didn’t need them just as he’d finally seemed to find a groove.

  “Dude, I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears,” Flake mumbled beside him.

  Zane only nodded once, keeping his jaw tense. Good. More hockey to play meant more opportunities to drive his fury out of him on the ice. There was nothing like slamming his opponent or saving the day to revitalize himself at a time like this.

  Might as well put his life’s drama to good use.

  Coach Wink clapped his hands twice, then gestured for them all to head back out to the ice. The team rose, pumping each other up and doing everything they could to get their energy higher. They could finish this game quickly if they focused, and Zane, for one, was all focus.

  He said nothing as they moved back out into the arena, and his team seemed to sense the energy, the raw anger, thrumming through his frame.

  Shap put a hand to his chest before they reached the ice.

  Zane met his eyes.

  “No penalties,” Shap told him firmly. “We can’t afford a man down like this.”

  Zane tilted his chin down, meeting the shorter player’s eyes almost squarely. “Then don’t leave me time to get any. End it.”

  For a second, he thought the serious captain would crack a smile for that, but Shap only nodded in understanding, and the two of them skated out with the rest. Shap might not like Zane all the time, might find his antics annoying, and Zane might find him to be a little pretentious. But there was a mutual respect for each other’s skills, and each well knew what the other was capable of. And what they could do together.

  Sometimes hockey was a beautiful thing.

  Zane skated around in easy waves over to his position, nodding at Boomer and Pike, who was settled in his goal like a caged animal. None of them wanted to be in this overtime for long, and it would take a concentrated effort from them all to make it happen.