Page 103 of Her Goal
I add, “No one would buy a twin swap, anyway.”
Wagging her finger between us, she says, “You know this cannot happen.”
“You’re going to kick and scream, huh?”
She holds up her palms. “Hang on. Don’t tell me you want to,” she looks around, “marry me? It’s not too late to turn back. To go the other way. To take the fork in the road.”
Her choice of words reminds me of the email my Secret Admirer sent along with the advice I gave.
“Option A. I could back out. Option B. I could see what happens.”
“We’re talking about me, Hudson.”
I smile. “Yes, we are.”
I’ve faced down legendary hockey players and have played intense games with seconds left on the clock with a hard rubberdisk spiraling toward my face. I’ve shed blood, sweat, and tears for my career. But this is a different kind of thrill.
“I like you, Leah. I think about you a lot.”
Her arms, tight to her body, loosen.
“I don’t know if you have many fans in your life, but I’d like to be yours. I can feel your passion for the Happy Hockey Days event and museum. Your love for your family, your talent on the ice.”
She angles toward me. “I’ve never been very nice to you.”
“I’m not the guy you think I am, but I don’t want to change you. I want you to be you and not morph into someone else for a guy. I’ve seen your playful side. I appreciate the fierce side. And everything in between. All of it makes you who you are.”
The lines across her forehead smooth and her eyes study me for a long moment. She opens and closes her mouth as if conflicted. Words don’t come. Maybe she needs to process. I sure do.
Shifting toward the exit, I say what I always have, exactly the way I’ve always said it, “Later, Skater.” Because maybe I’ve always hoped that there would be a “later” between us.
31
LEAH
I’ve been preoccupiedwith coming up with a reply to Hudson’s very thorough advice for my friend. Now I have a new obsession.
He likes me? After knocking out his tooth? Being downright mean? Sending those hateful emails? Not that he knows about that … yet. It’s only a matter of time. He mentioned he contacted the police originally and they confirmed that I’m harmless, but are those emails forgivable?
If someone were trolling me, I’d probably have trolled them back.
But not Hudson. He’s so good. A unicorn to my prowling, snarling cat of the night.
He even attempted to play matchmaker so I’d get my happily ever after.
However, that’s not all. This week, they have back-to-back away games. I find myself wishing I’d gone with Chuck. Then on Tuesday, I find a box of chocolates in my employee locker at O’Neely’s with a card signed,Because you’re so sweet. Xo Hudson
Emerson reads over my shoulder. “So romantic.”
“There’s no way Hudson thinks I’m sweet. I’m sour like a lemon.”
My coworker laughs. “He must see something special in you.”
I offer her a chocolate.
“See? You’re generous. Sweet.” No sooner does she take a bite than she’s waving her hand in front of her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
