Page 63 of Slap Shot

“Are those professional hockey terms?”

“Yup.” Hudson grins, and I’m treated to the sight of his dimple. He wraps his fingers around my ankle, guiding my foot into the skate. He yanks on the laces, working methodically from the toe to the heel. He repeats the motion with my other foot then taps my shin. “How do those feel?”

“Um. Heavy?”

“That’s normal.”

“So I’m supposed to think I’d sink to the bottom of a lake if I got tossed into one? Noted,” I say.

When he raises a brow, I mime zipping my lips and tossing the key. He chuckles, then continues. “When we get on the ice, I don’t want you to think about picking up your foot like you’re taking a step. I want you to think about pushing the ice and gliding away. Does that make sense?” he asks.

“Oh, sure. Totally,” I say, and he helps me to my feet. “I could suit up for a game tomorrow night.”

Hudson hops over the small lip that leads to the ice and looks at me. “You’re going to be great.”

My foot almost slips out from under me when I enter the rink. I grab the half-wall beside me and hold on for dear life. “This was a very bad idea. I haven’t updated my will. I haven’t seen the Grand Canyon or the Great Barrier Reef yet. I’m too young to die.”

Hudson holds out his hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says in an even-keeled voice.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Madeline,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

I blow out a breath and lace our fingers together, believing him. “Okay.”

He gently moves me away from the wall. My legs shake, and I hunch forward. There’s a red mark on the ice that looks suspiciously like blood, and I wonder who injured themselves here.

I’ll probably be next.

“Try standing up straight. There you go. That’s perfect.” Hudson smiles when I roll my shoulders back. “And try to look up, not down. Don’t you want to stare at my handsome face?”

“No offense to your supposedly handsome face, Bombshell, but looking down means I can see if I’m about to fall.”

“I’ll catch you before that happens.”

“I don’t want to hit my head,” I admit, and Hudson moves closer to me until our sides are pressed together. Until I cansmell his cologne and the hint of toothpaste. He loops an arm around my waist and secures himself to me. “That’s what I’m most afraid of.”

“A reasonable fear. It took me weeks to learn how to get from one end of the ice to the other without falling. Now it’s second nature. In this position, if you fall, I’ll fall too. And I’ll soften the blow for you, Madeline.”

“That’s so chivalrous.” I try to focus my attention on other things around us: Gus and Millie sliding on their bellies. A group of guys eating hot dogs and chatting on the players’ bench. A man in jeans and a black T-shirt watching Grant’s sister do another pirouette with the hint of a scowl on his face. “If I die, tell my daughter I love her.”

“I’m not going to let you die. Who would make me dinner every night?”

“You know how to pop leftovers in the microwave, don’t you?”

“Debatable,” he says, and I laugh.

The longer we skate, the less stress I carry. My body unravels with every lap we do. I can tell I’m relaxing, and Hudson’s grip on me never wavers. Half an hour and no collisions later, we stop next to Piper, Emmy, and Lucy, who’s almost jumping up and down.

I’m doing so well!I haven’t fallen!

“She is really good,” Piper adds, and Emmy nods.

“You should get her into lessons. She’s a lightning bolt on the ice. It helps that kids are so fearless,” Emmy says, “but I can tell she’s has natural skills.”

“She didn’t learn it from me.” I gesture at the mark on Hudson’s arm I left behind from gripping him so tight. “I’m fighting for my life out here.”

“You’re doing just fine,” he says. “Are you going to hang out for a bit?”

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