Page 88 of Slap Shot
But really, I want to make himhurt.
I want to make him hurt the way he hurt them, and I’ve never felt so… protective of someone before. Like I want to defend them, but since Lucy and Madeline walked through my door, I think it’s part of my job now.
A responsibility I’m glad to accept.
“Hudson?” Madeline puts her hand on my arm. My eyes snap to where she’s touching me. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m having a hard time processing what you told me. I can’t imagine a world where a man would leave his wife and daughter because she…” I don’t even want to say the words. I can’t comprehend being that cold. As if Lucy’s deafness is her entire personality when, really, it’s a tiny part of who she is as a person. “I fuckinghatehim.”
“Join the club. I can make us shirts if you want,” she teases, but it doesn’t help to lighten my mood. “I’m okay, Hudson. Everything in my life has worked out exactly as it should. I’m happy. Lucy is happy, and that’s the most important thing.”
“Is this why you’re not a romantic? Because of what happened in your past?” I ask, and she nods.
“It’s so cliché, but my divorce ruined love and romance and relationships for me. We said vows that evidently didn’t meananything. It makes me not want to try again, because what’s the point?”
I hum, understanding her reasoning. I’ve been like that since Mom passed away: what’s the point of loving someone if they’re eventually going to leave you?
But then I think of all the good parts of love—the parts where you feel complete. Where everything makes sense in the world. And it makes me want to try again.
“What—” I break off another piece of cookie. These are going to get me in trouble if I’m not careful. “What photo did he like?”
“Oh.” Madeline chuckles. “I have a personal account that’s private. He doesn’t follow me there. I have a separate account where I’ll share dishes I’ve made recently. When I was in Vegas, I shared CARVD’s weekly menu as well. I haven’t been active on it the last few months, but I opened it up today. He liked an old post showing off a casserole I love to make. I’m being incredibly conceited and pretending the like was by a woman he’s dating who’s trying to dig up dirt on me.”
“He follows your chef page?”
“He did when we were married, and I guess he still does. I bet he forgot to unfollow me. He never used to use social media all that much.”
“Must be some casserole.” I laugh. “And two Instagrams, huh? I’m going to have to hunt them down. What kind of stuff do you post on your personal one?”
“I don’t use it all that much either, but it’s mostly photos of Lucy. There’s one on there from a year ago that I love. I snapped it without thinking about it. It’s Lucy from behind—in a Stars shirt, actually. At the game you all played in Vegas.”
I wonder if I saw Madeline in the crowd that night. I wonder if our eyes met during a timeout or before the game.
They probably didn’t, because she’s impossible to miss.
My gaze bounces to her mouth, and I notice how soft her lips look. I can’t help but wonder what she’d taste like. Cinnamon? Sugar?
What would she feel like if I put my hand on her waist? If I dragged my fingers across her stomach and dipped them lower?
I look away.
Those urges weren’t there a week ago, and I don’t know why they’re here now.
Is it because we’re sharing things with each other? Is it because her eyes sparkle like the stars? Is it because I haven’t felt this kind of closeness with a woman who wasn’t Piper, Lexi, or Emmy in what seems like ages?
Or ever.
Maybe it’s because it’sher, and the more time I spend with Madeline, the more I realize she might be the most incredible person I’ve ever met.
“We won that night,” I finally say. “Liam had an unbelievable game. He and Piper got married after, actually. They were drunk off their asses.”
“Piper mentioned that happened, but I haven’t heard the whole story,” Madeline says. “Where did they get married?”
“Some chapel. We went out to this club on the Strip, and everyone was wasted. That led us into a limo and Maverick and Emmy getting married, then Piper and Liam did the same after.”
“Wait. I went to a club on the Strip that night.”
“You did?”
