Page 106 of Slap Shot

“Did she like to cook?”

“She spent every day in the kitchen. It was her happy place. She tried to teach me, but nothing stuck, clearly. She used to tell me to be grateful for my pretty face, my smart brain, and my athletic ability, because I couldn’t cook for shit.” He sets the knife down, and his shoulders shake. I think he might be crying, but then I hear the laughter race out of him. “She would have a fucking field day with the social media comments.”

“What was she like?” I ask, eager to hear more.

“If I tried to describe her, you’d think she wasn’t real. That’s how special she was. Mom cared about other people more than she cared about herself. She was always laughing, except when it came time for my hockey games. Then she was yelling from the stands. Some of the guys on my team teased me when I was younger, but I’d rather have a mom who was loud than a mom who wasn’t proud of her son. She was kind and patient, even when she didn’t have to be. Her heart was so big.” He pauses and takes the slices of bread. “You two would’ve gotten along.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You remind me of her. She was the world’s best mom. And so are you.”

“I’m not sure I?—”

“You are. I see your selflessness and adoration for Lucy. It’s tangible, Madeline. I feel it when I’m around y’all, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

It’s the highest compliment anyone has ever given me, and I lock it inside my heart to keep it safe. To come back to when I’m having a rough day.

“I try my best,” I whisper. “But it’s hard sometimes.”

“I bet it is. I’ll never pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes and take on all the roles you do, but you make love look effortless. So did my mama. That’s exactly why she would’ve liked you.”

“Thank you.” I wipe under my eye, fully intending to blame the tears on the onion I’m about to chop, not my emotions. Not him complimenting me in a way I’m not sure I’m worthy of. “For saying those things and sharing her with me.”

“Worth finally coming out of your room?” Hudson asks, and I huff out an exasperated laugh.

I grab the dish towel from his shoulder, roll it up, and flick it at him. He yelps and reaches for my arm. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he takes the towel from me.

“Take it back,” I say.

“You’re fast, but not as fast as me, Maddie.”

The nickname sends a shiver down my spine. We’re staring at each other, and his eyes bounce to my mouth.

“Maybe I’m just trying to play fair,” I say. “I’m stooping to your level and holding back.”

“Why? I can take it. I can take anything you give me.” His thumb moves up the inside of my wrist. It’s a slow drag, skin on skin contact, and I almost moan when he pulls away. “Friends, right?”

“Friends,” I repeat, hating the damn word.

THIRTY-ONE

HUDSON

Puck Kings

Easy E

We’re home with back-to-back nights off. No games. No practice. What are we doing to let loose tonight, boys?

Sully

Turning my phone off and spending time with someone I like more than you.

G-Money

Piper, obviously. I’m down for anything. Cap? You in for a night out?

Mavvy

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