Page 7 of The Penalty Shot (Totally Pucked 5)

“Right this way,” the teenage hostess says, grabbing two plastic menus and leading us toward the back wall that’s got rows of old vinyl records lining it.

My hand fits against the small of her back as we follow behind the hostess, and I notice how small she is next to me. I have at least a damn foot on her. Auden looks up at me and smiles bashfully, and then quickly averts her eyes back to the records on the wall.

“Wow,” Auden breathes, her eyes scanning the rows above her head, “look, Elvis!”

“King of Rock and Roll. Yeah, this place is awesome. I can see why you like it so much. The food’s good?”

“God yes. They have this patty melt that is to die for,” she moans, “and there is nowhere in Chicago that you can get a better milkshake. I swear.”

We’re seated at a booth in the back corner that’s quiet and tucked away from the other booths. Auden slides into the red leather and fingers her hair as I take a seat across from her. She seems nervous, and for some reason, that makes me want to try and pull her out of her shell even more.

“So, tell me about you? What do you like to do in your spare time, when you aren’t wielding tire irons as weapons,” I tease.

Auden glances down at her hands. I can hardly hear her mumble, “W-What do you want to know? I’m honestly pretty boring.”

“Mmm, I doubt that’s true. You obviously have great taste in music.”

Her brow furrows for a second, and then she glances down at the distressed vintage Nirvana shirt she’s wearing, realization hitting her. “Nirvana fan?”

“Of course. Best grunge band of the nineties. I’m a Cobain fan for life, so much emotion in his words and voice. Legends never die, ya know?”

“Definitely. I swear, I’m still living in the nineties. Music, fashion, movies. It was the best era. Uh…what about you? You know more about me than I do about you at this point.”

I lean back, resting my arm against the back of the booth, my stomach grumbling as I inhale the smell of greasy, deep-fried food. “Well, I play hockey.”

“Like, for fun?” she asks.

The waitress comes to take our drink order before I can respond, and I put in an order for an appetizer of cheese fries because I’m fucking starving and can’t wait. I’m a big guy, and I need sustenance. My body’s used to being fed in small increments throughout the day.

“No, I’m a professional hockey player. I’m a right defenseman for the Chicago Avalanches.”

Surprise coats her features. “Wow. I guess I probably should’ve known that?”

I shrug. If I’m being honest, I really fucking like that she doesn’t. Not that I thought she was a bunny to begin with, but at least I know she didn’t try to get my attention because I’m a professional hockey player. “Eh, I’m not a celebrity. I just play professional hockey as my career. I probably wouldn’t recognize a soccer player on the street.”

“I’m not really a sports’ fan,” She admits, “I uh- I work a lot. And when I’m not working, I’m with my son.”

A son? I’m shocked to say the least. I didn’t expect her to have a kid.

“How old’s your son?”

Her eyes light up, a proud smile spreads on her lips as the waitress brings our drinks over and slides a huge plate of cheese fries between us. A mountain of cheese, potatoes, jalapeños, and a side of ranch.

“He’s eight. And he’s the best kid in the entire world. Honestly, he’s so smart that sometimes I can’t keep up. His name is Alex.”

I pause halfway to my mouth with a loaded cheese fry. “No shit? Alex is your son?”

She pulls back, slightly shocked that I apparently know him. “You know Alex?”

“Yeah, he, uh draws with me sometimes on the roof. I sketch and read up there a lot. We met up there a couple of months ago.”

Auden sits back in the booth and laughs quietly. “Wow. Soyou’reAsh. I just…I didn’t even put two and two together. He talks about you a lot.”

I can’t fucking believe Alex is her kid…I mean…I can, I just feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. He never mentioned his mom’s name, and I obviously have never seen them together.

“He’s a great kid. He’s smart, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders. It’s obvious that you’ve taught him well.”

“Thank you. He’s my best friend. It’s just been us for a long time, and he’s really mature for his age. I guess you kind of have to be when your mom is learning to be a mom as she goes.” She says it quietly as she fidgets with her hair, her eyes on the table in front of her.

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