Page 181 of Slap Shot

I’ll make sure to tell Hudson that for the next game. I point to Liam in the goal, grinning when Lucy waves even though he can’t see her.Do you like their jerseys? They’re wearing blue tonight.

I like the white better.

She finishes her chicken tenders and fries, squealing when Hudson skates up to the glass in front of our section. I follow behind her as she barrels down the stairs to the glass, putting her hand against the barrier. He takes off his gloves and puts his before pulling away so he can sign.

Seats okay?he asks, and she shrugs.

Last month was better, she tells him bluntly, and when his eyes meet mine, I grin.

“Kids,” I yell over the crowd starting to fill the arena, and he chuckles.

“They’ll say the darndest things.” Hudson turns his head and nods at something one of his teammates is saying. “Gotta jet. Hope my favorite girls have fun.”

“Score a goal for us,” I say, and the wink he gives me makes me feel like I’m dating the biggest athlete on campus.

“If I do, I’ll make sure to point my stick right at y’all.”

With one more wave he joins the line of his teammates taking their turns shooting on goal. Lucy and I climb the stairs back to our seats, and she rests her head against my arm. I scan the building, trying to see if I can find Piper or Lexi, but I don’t spot either of them.

“Madeline?”

Hearing my name makes me turn my head, and when I do, I blink, convinced I’m imagining things. There’s no way what I’m seeing is really happening, because Clark is staring at me.

Here.

Five feet away.

At a goddamn hockey game in DC.

When I haven’t seen him foryearsin Las Vegas.

Everything happens in slow motion. He walks toward me with a hesitant smile on his face. I wrap my arm around Lucy out of instinct, and she looks up at me with a frown. His eyes drop to our—my—daughter, and my blood turns to ice.

“Hey,” he says when he gets close to me.

I’ve dreamed up a hundred different things I’d say to him if I ever got the chance, but I’m coming up short. I’m striking out because all I want to do is scream. I want to give him a shove and tell him to never come near us again.

“What the fuck do you want?” is what I wind up saying, and the woman in front of me with a child of her own turns to give me a nasty glare.

“Hey,” he repeats, his gaze bouncing to Lucy.

Mommy.Lucy tugs on my shirt when he looks at her.Who is that?

Do I tell her who Clark is?

Do I pretend like he’s someone I’ve never met? Do I pass him off as a friend?

He’s someone Mommy knew many years ago, I tell her.

Is he nice?

He’s okay, I sign, not wanting her to be scared.Look at Maverick on the ice!

Her attention temporarily diverts to the players running a drill, and I feel like the scum of the earth for not including her in my conversation.

“What do you want?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice even-keeled.

“Is that Lucy?”

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