Page 87 of Slap Shot

“Sure. Of course.”

“Stay there.”

She leaves through the sliding glass door that leads to her bedroom, and I glance at the sky while I wait for her to come back.

When she returns a few minutes later, she’s armed with with a big blanket, two glasses of milk, and a plate stacked with cookies. I don’t know how she’s holding everything.

I scoot over so there’s room for her on the bench. When she’s sitting, I take the blanket from her and spread it out over our laps.

“This is a serious operation,” I say.

“It’s a cookie conversation. Well, it’s more like a tequila conversation, but getting drunk at three in the morning when it’s freezing outside sounds like the start of a murder mystery.”

“I don’t have a lot of mobility in my arm. They wouldn’t be able to frame me.”

“You and I both know you don’t have a murderous bone in your body.” Madeline shifts her position until our arms touch. She hands me a glass of milk and smiles. “There. Much better.”

“I allowed to eat before you start talking?”

“Of course. I’m an instant gratification kind of girl.”

She passes me the plate of perfectly baked cookies, and I’m in awe. They look like they were made in a high-end bakery, not my kitchen.

I wonder when I’ll stop being impressed by what Madeline creates.

I take a bite, and an embarrassing sound leaves my throat. The cookie is soft and gooey and full of cinnamon. My shoulders sag, and I’d be shocked if I didn’t have hearts in my eyes.

“That—” I lick my lips. I might lick my fingers next. Fuck manners. “Is the best cookie—the best bite offood—I’ve ever eaten.”

“It is not.”

“I swear to god, Madeline. Bury me in a casket of these, because nothing will ever taste this good again.”

“That’ll be fun to explain to the funeral home.” She takes a bite of her own cookie, and her smile fades. “Lucy’s dad liked a photo on my Instagram.”

My hand freezes halfway to the plate on its way to a second Snickerdoodle. I know I need to be careful with how thisconversation goes, because it’s the first piece of information Madeline’s offered up about her ex besides the fact that he’s not in the picture.

“Is that not something he normally does?” I ask.

“No. I haven’t talked to him in six years.”

“Hang on.” I turn my body to face her. “Six years?”

“That’s not even the worst part of the story.”

“It gets fuckingworse?”

“My ex and I met when he came into my restaurant while he was on a business trip to Ohio. I had to talk to someone at his table about a food allergy, and he caught me eye. We hit it off, but we didn’t exchange numbers. I thought it was the last time I’d see him. Two months later, he came back, asked me out, and we started dating. It was long distance at first, but I moved to Vegas to be with him about a year into our relationship.” She stops to take a sip of her milk, and I’m on the edge of my seat—literally. “We got married, and we were so happy. Lucy came into the world, and things went downhill. Remember how I told you we learned she’s deaf? My ex, Clark, didn’t take the news well.”

“Clark? Let me fucking guess: he’s in banking or finance or some other cushy job like that.”

“Investment banking, actually,” she says, and there’s a hint of a smile behind her words. “After we learned about Lucy’s diagnosis, he kept finding excuses not to be around. He skipped a doctor’s appointment and started staying out late.” She plays with the sleeve of her robe, her voice dropping to soft and sad. “A month after she was born, I came home to divorce papers on the kitchen table. Child support gets deposited in an account once a month, but I don’t use it. I haven’t heard from him since he walked out on us. Until tonight.”

I swear the earth stops spinning. She’s still talking, but I’m not listening because my vision turns red. My blood boils, andI’m tempted to throw a chair off the balcony. To break a window—or someone’s neck.

I know violence isn’t the answer. My parents always taught me to solve my problems with my words, not my fists. The sport I play is inherently rough, but I’ve only been in one fight in my playing career.

The dude I hit—who is the scum of the earth—is an angel compared to Madeline’s ex-husband, and I want to meet this guy for myself. I want to tell him what he’s missed out on, how beautiful Madeline is, how wonderful Lucy is, and how much joy they bring to my life.

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