Page 91 of Promise Me

When I look back to the ice, Hudson is way ahead of the others, and he has control of the puck. His stick goes side to side, and I swear to god I know he’s skating, but he moves so effortlessly that he appears to be floating over the ice. One of the players gains on him, but Hudson turns in a fancy circle, hikes his stick back, and hits the puck into the net.

“Yes!” I jump up, screaming and clapping. “Yes!”

Every player turns to look at me. That’s when I remember that it’s just a practice and not a game, but screw that. Hudson is flawless, and I love every minute of it.

I slowly sit back down, quietly celebrating, when I spot Hudson looking at me as he skates toward the coach on the other side of the rink.

He reaches the box thing and pulls his helmet off. The biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him takes over as his eyes lock on mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other.

Then he winks.

Oh lord. I am so totally screwed.

The team wraps up practice, so I hop up hastily and practically run to the warmth as soon as Hudson is off the ice and following the others toward the locker room.

A rush of hot air hits me, and I shiver.

Whoever thought of inventing a sport and making it extra cold needs help.

Well, maybe not much help, because seeing him score that goal as if he didn’t need to try was sexy as hell.

I blow out a breath and then take my time soaking in the banners on the walls and the trophy case just inside the main doors. It seems like Wind Valley’s hockey team is the best in the state of Wyoming. They have an insane number of trophies, and the pictures from the past years show how far they’ve come. Since each team photo is in a frame that has the year printed on it, I find the year my brother and Hudson graduated. I spot Hudson immediately. The smile he’s wearing is very similar to the one he wore just moments ago.

I wish he’d smile like that more often.

It’s clear that hockey is a part of him. I hate that I can’t give it back to him. That I can’t fix his injury and get his career back for him.

“We won state that year,” Hudson says behind me, and I startle a little as I turn, stepping back so that we can stand next to each other. “It was the first time I’d pulled off a hat trick. I came close dozens of times, but I just never could get that third goal in a game. That day was wild.”

When he was here the other week, he seemed timid to be here, but today is different. The air around him is lighter, brighter.

“In all the years you played, how many hat tricks have you pulled off?”

“Eleven,” he answers without missing a beat. “I scored my last one just a few seconds before everything ... changed.”

Slowly, he turns to look at me.

“Thank you, Sadie.”

“For what?”

“For forcing me to walk in here the other week. For coming today. For reminding me that my life didn’t end with my career; it simply just changed.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

“You’re welcome.”

I don’t want to risk sounding too cliché, but while I stand here wishing he’d let me kiss him again, I swear he’s wishing that he could let me. I swear he’s standing here thinking about how much his life has changed and that, for once, it’s not bad. That he can finally see that happiness is still out there.

He breaks the trance first, his hand touching the small of my back as he guides me to the doors.

“Also, I had no idea you had a fondness for hockey. You were very enthusiastic in there.”

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