Page 143 of The New Guy
“He still loves us,” Jordyn announces with a shrug. “He wishes he didn’t move away.”
I have no response. If only it were so simple.
The door opens again ten minutes later. It’s Reggie. “Ooh, flowers! Are you going to see him?” She practically has hearts in her eyes.
“That would be a terrible idea,” I whisper.
“Overtime!” yells Jordyn.
We line up on the sofa to watch. “This is so exciting,” Reggie says. “Who are we rooting for?”
“Brooklyn,” I grumble at the same time that Jordyn says “Colorado.”
I don’t know why Hudson thinks he can sweep into town and make me watch his big announcement. It’s too late for me to be won over.
That’s how it should be.
Right? My heart is very confused.
It was hard watching him come out, because it made me realize something unflattering about myself: I doubted him. All last summer, when he was planning to come out, part of me doubted that he’d ever do it.
Which is why I lie awake sometimes now and console myself thinking that Hudson would have chickened out, and we would have broken up anyway.
But now he’s free to be himself, and I still miss him. There’s a Hudson-sized hole in my chest.
“Oh my GOD!” Jordyn shrieks, and my eyes fly to the screen, where Hudson has stripped Crikey of the puck. “SHOOT!” my daughter yells.
Hudson doesn’t have a shot, though. He makes a lightning fast pass to Kapski instead.
Who scores.
The lamp lights. The buzzer sounds. And twenty thousand fans howl their frustration.
The Colorado team is ecstatic, though. They crowd Hudson and Kapski for helmet thumps and butt pats and a hundred other little masculine warrior rituals.
Then it’s time for the handshake line. Hudson is grinning from ear to ear as he tries to skate by his former teammates for a quick handshake or fist bump. But it takes forever, because they all want to hug him instead.
I slump down on the sofa, wondering what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for him. I gave him a big, angry speech about how much I still care.
“Bedtime,” Reggie says, clicking off the TV. “Brush those teeth, kid. I’ll tuck you in.”
“What about Daddy?” Jordyn asks.
“Daddy is going out for a beer with the team.” She winks at me.
“No, I’m not,” I mumble.
“Maybe we have time for a Frozen sing-along?” My sister giggles.
“Awesome!” my daughter yells.
“Cheap trick,” I mutter.
But then I get up to find my jacket.
FIFTY
Hudson
