Page 125 of Slap Shot

“Is Lucy hurt?”

“No. She had a horrible day at school, and it carried over all afternoon. I missed your text earlier, so I’m behind on dinner. The dogs haven’t eaten. I didn’t get a chance to clean up from breakfastorlunch. The onions are burnt, but I should be able to throw the rest of the meal together in a few minutes. And I’ll light a candle to get rid of the smell.”

“No.”

“No?

“No.” Hudson reaches behind me and turns off the stove. He rubs his hands down my arms, and it’s amazing how much better I feel when he touches me. “Forget dinner. I’ll order us a pizza.Forget the mess. I’ll get to it later. The dogs can survive an extra hour without their food. Are you okay, Madeline?”

“I don’t know. Lucy’s never acted like this, and I-I feel like a failure. Like I should know how to handle it, but I don’t.” I hiccup. My throat hurts. I’m so tired. “The icing on the cake of a shitty day was my mom calling and letting me know my dad is experiencing chest pains. The doctor is running some tests on his heart. It’s a lot.”

The words spill out of me like the last drops of a wine bottle, and I realize what I’ve said too late. I register the selfishness of mentioning my dad, who I got to talk to this afternoon, while Hudson won’t ever get to talk to his mom again.

I hesitantly search his face for any signs of bitterness. For a shred of resentment for what I have that he doesn’t, but I can’t find any.

All I can find is a soft smile. A heavy sigh and his hands back on my shoulders like that’s where they belong.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. That must’ve added a lot of stress to your day. Is he doing okay? Have you talked to him?”

“I talked to him earlier. He’s in good spirits.” I wipe under my eye. Mascara clings to my thumb, and I probably look like a drowned rat. “He’s upset about the changes to his diet. He’s no longer allowed to have a bowl of ice cream before bed.”

“That’s cruel, honestly. What’s his favorite flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip.” I huff out the makings of a laugh. “I used to tease him and tell him it tasted like toothpaste.”

“Your dad has some fine taste. Maybe I need to start eating a bowl of ice cream every night before bed.”

“You could afford it. You’re made of pure muscle.”

“And those brownies you made last week.” There’s a boyish glint in Hudson’s eye. “I ate half the pan.”

“Iknewit.” I try to swat his arm, but he catches my hand. He wraps his fingers around my wrist and holds me there.

“Talk to me about Lucy. Do you know why she had a bad day at school?” he asks.

“Her teacher told me one of her classmates teased her, and then kept teasing her when she cried. They also had a fire drill and a vocabulary test, and I think it was too much stimulation.”

Hudson slowly lowers my arms to my sides. “Here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to take a few minutes for yourself. A shower or some time in your room. I’m going to order us some food then I’ll check on Lucy.”

“Hudson.” I sniff again. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to. You do so much by yourself, Maddie, but I’m here when you need to tap out for a minute. I want to help. Let me help.”

Every kind of emotion twists into a knot in my stomach with the plea in his ask. There’s gratitude and appreciation. Fear of giving over control and careful acceptance of having someone in my corner. I bob my head in a slow nod, ready to welcome the help I so desperately need.

“Okay,” I whisper. The single word makes his whole face brighten. “She might—if you need me foranything, I’m?—”

“We’ll be fine. I promise. And if we’re not, I know where you are.”

I take a step back and turn for my room. Walking away from him is so hard because all I want to do is stay. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Take as long as you need. We’ll be here,” Hudson says. “Go on, Golden Girl.”

“Golden Girl?”

“Yeah.” He gestures around the kitchen, not blinking at the catastrophe surrounding us. “You’re the brightest thing in this room. The brightest thing in every room.”

Oh.

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