Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

“Are you cooking dinner?” “Trying to.” I grab a colander and put it in the sink. “We’ll see how it turns out.” “Are you ill?” “Wow, Mads.” I laugh and drain the pot of pasta. “You wound me.”

You haven’t heard from him, have you?” I ask. I know she would tell me if she had. I’m not worried about any lingering feelings or dredging up past emotions. I just want to make sure I don’t need to actually kick his ass.

“I love how confident you are in the kitchen.” I bend so I can kiss her neck, and she relaxes against me. “It’s so fucking sexy.” “I chop cilantro, Hudson. I’m not out there finding world peace.” “Don’t care. It’s hot as hell.”

“Baby, you can do whatever you want to me,” I say, and when she gently presses the cool silver against my neck, I let out a rough breath. “I definitely have a knife kink.”

I’m patient. I’m perfectly content never hearing it. Madeline shows me she loves me in so many other ways, like how she stitched a pink ribbon for breast cancer on the inside of my jersey. In the way she sends me photos of her, Lucy, and the dogs whenever I’m away so I don’t get homesick. The words would just be extra.

I didn’t think I’d be more nervous to stand in front of a bunch of first graders than our playoff game tonight, but here we are.

I’m even more nervous I’m not going to be able to answer the kids’ questions in the ways that I want. Madeline told me there will be plenty of help with interpretation, but it feels like it’s my job to show up prepared, and it seems like I’m really fucking unprepared.

“Thinking about playing in front of twenty thousand fans in a few hours doesn’t have me stressed out. But this does. I’m sweating through my shirt.” I touch my Stars T-shirt and grimace. “Disgusting.” “They’re six, Hudson.”

Mommy looks silly. She does, doesn’t she? Can I tell you a secret, Lucy? Sure. She grins. I love secrets. I love your mom. Very much. I’m going to tell her soon. Do you think that would be okay with you? If I was around more? Like a dad? My friends say their daddies love their mommies. I’ve never had a daddy. Yeah. I swallow. Like a dad. Yes, she tells me with tears in her eyes. That would be okay. Mommy and I love you, too.

"Like a dad?" I'M SOBBING AGAIN.

It might be a big game for us tonight, but I don’t care. I’ll have those two in the stands, which means I already won.

Every day we’re together, I come dangerously close to telling him how much I love him. It almost slipped out two nights ago when he was braiding my hair, wanting to learn how to style the long strands so he could help Lucy if she ever asked.

Lucy charges to me and jumps on the bed, arms wrapping around my neck. Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy! Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I kiss the top of her head, laughing when she leans against me with such force, we tumble onto the pillows. I glance over at the door, finding Hudson there. He’s holding a tray stacked with plates and a cup of orange juice. There’s a single flower in a small vase, and when he smiles at me, I can’t help but smile back. “We brought you breakfast.”

“Lucy and I made pancakes and bacon. With a side of mashed potatoes because they’re your favorite food.” He sets the tray in my lap, and I notice two cards next to the plates. “Happy Mother’s Day, Maddie.”

“We were in the kitchen by six thirty.” Hudson wraps an arm around me, pulling Lucy and me close. He’s gotten more open with his affection lately, and I like that he’s showing Lucy the right ways to be treated. “I let you sleep in so you didn’t see our surprise.” “It’s the best surprise ever.” I grin and open the card from Lucy. There’s a drawing inside, a heart made of her handprints and what must be a whole bucket of glitter. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

We made it in art class at school. Ms. McNair told us to write our favorite things about our moms, and I wrote how much you love me. Lucy taps the card, and I see her list also includes things like my long hair and the cookies I bake. I said I have the best mom.

“I got you something,” I say, and he frowns. “You got me something? For Mother’s Day?” he asks. “It’s small.” I lean to my right and rifle through my bedside drawer. I find the package I’m looking for and hand it to him. “You told me your dad used to buy your mom flowers whenever she had a hard day, so I got some seeds for you. I thought we—sorry, you—could build a flower bed on your balcony and plant the seeds. You could have flowers whenever you want, and it could be like your mom is here with us all the time.”

Oh, my heart-

I love how strong you are. How wonderful of a mother you are. I love your sarcasm, but I also love when you slow things down. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. And if there’s ever a doubt in your mind, I want you to ask me, because that means I’m not doing a good enough job of showing you how fucking gone I am for you.”

“And Liam could’ve stopped the two goals the Owls had in the second period,” I say, and the ghost of a laugh falls out of him. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing.” A small smile, little wrinkles around his eyes. His dimple, softness in his words. “You… you’re doing exactly what my mom would do with me after a loss.”

I’m going to spend the rest of my life disappointed I’ll never get the chance to meet Sarah Hayes. If I could spend just thirty seconds with her, I’d tell her how good of a job she did as a parent. How strong and self-aware her son is without being cocky or overbearing.

I’d tell her how he loves everything in his life with his whole heart, and he holds himself accountable when the situation calls for it. I’d let her know he’s emotionally mature. Breathtakingly beautiful. Passionate and proud, humble and gracious in moments of defeat.

“I’m so proud of you,” I say. “That doesn’t change when you win or lose, either. I’m always going to be proud of you, Hudson. And so is Lucy. She even made you a card.” “She did?” He perks up, and I tap the folded note to the left of his elbow. He opens it up, huffing when he finds a stick figure and the words GO HUDSON GO written across the top of the paper. “She’s a goddamn artist, isn’t she?”

“Thank you for the pep talk and telling me to get my head out of my ass.” “I never said that.” “No, but I heard the undertones.”

“I think I’m more nervous to meet your parents than I am for game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals tonight.”

“Hudson. We’re heading into the final period of game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. You’ve been here before. What are you feeling right now?” she asks, holding out her microphone. “Nerves.” I laugh. “And not wanting to be complacent. We have pressure on us because we want to repeat last year’s result, but we can’t get cocky. We have twenty minutes left, and that’s it. We need to focus.”

“Speaking of focusing, what are some areas you all are going to work on as we head into the third period?” “Teamwork and not being selfish. When we get excited, we all want to take a shot, even if it’s not the best available shot. We need to look for the open man.”

I exhale, gripping my stick and guiding the puck to my right. I look up at the rafters, a beam of light guiding me, and I smile. “For you, Mama,” I whisper. I pull my stick back to my waist. I hit the puck as hard as I can, getting it off just before the defender can steal it from me. It hits the left side of the goal, a bounce off the post before crossing the goal line under the goalie’s knees as the buzzer sounds, ending the game.

“Don’t know.” I step away from him and slip my coat halfway down my arms so he can see the top of my white jersey. “Look for me in the stands to find out.” “Tell our girl I love her too, will ya?”

Hudson bought us a suite at the start of the season, something wildly unnecessary but something Lucy loves, and I find my daughter sitting in a plush leather chair overlooking the ice. We still stand by the ice during warmups, and every now and then Piper will sneak her down to watch the end of the game from the tunnel so she doesn’t miss any of the action.

What a lucky girl I am to be loved by someone as beautiful and wonderful as Hudson Hayes.

Maverick scores, and the crowd cheers. He finds the camera after he does and pulls out the necklace tucked into his jersey, proudly showing off the little charms with the initials of Emmy and their daughter to all of America.

“You and Luce spent Christmas with me last year. And the year before that.” He drops his palms to my waist and squeezes my hip. “Best Christmases of my life, if we’re being honest.” “I have a feeling this year is going to be even better,” I say. He doesn’t know about the envelope Lucy is grabbing from her desk drawer. He’s clueless about the adoption papers she begged me to file so Hudson could legally be her dad. He’s been in that role since they met, and no one else will ever hold the title.

“And speaking of Lucy, she has a present for you.” “Yeah?” He kisses my forehead and pulls me onto the couch. “Where is she?” Hi, Lucy signs as she makes her way to the living room. Great game tonight. Thanks, princess, he replies, beaming. Do you know what kind of shot I scored with? A slap shot, she tells him, and he nods, impressed. I don’t know why he’s surprised about her knowledge; he’s teaching her everything he knows about hockey in hopes she’ll play in the PWHL one day. I’m going to start learning how to do those. They’re the most fun shot you can take.

Your mom says you have something for me. Yeah. Lucy clutches the envelope tight to her chest. I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I couldn’t wait. That’s how Hudson feels about Lucy’s present too. He adopted her favorite dog from the shelter where we volunteer every month. He was planning on giving him to her on Christmas morning, but every day that passes, he gets closer and closer to ruining the surprise and bringing Bartholomew home. Lucy’s already nicknamed him Barty.

We watch Hudson open the envelope, pulling out a stack of papers. His eyebrows wrinkle when he sees the Superior Court of the District of Columbia’s logo at the top of the page. “What is this?” he asks me, and I nudge his knee. “Read it,” I say. His mouth moves as he reads the first couple of sentences, and I see the moment understanding dawns. The papers fall from his shaky hands and land in his lap. He looks up at us with wide eyes. “It’s an adoption petition,” he says slowly, signing at the same time.

Lucy wants you to be her dad, I explain, and Lucy nods along beside me. You’re her favorite person in the world. She wants to be a part of your family, and she wants to have you be a part of ours. Legally. Officially. In every sense of the word. I take a breath and stop signing. “I know this is a big step. You don’t have to say yes right away—or at all. We’re not married, and⁠—” “This is the easiest answer of my life.” Hudson glances at Lucy and signs, Are you sure? Yes, Lucy answers, and she lunges for him. He holds her in a hug and buries his face in her hair. I love you, she adds when she pulls away to look up at him.

I’m the luckiest guy to have such amazing girls. Get me a pen and let me sign. I would’ve said yes on day one.

I love you, Maddie. And I love you, Lucy. We love you too. I sigh and close my eyes. “You’re stuck with us, Bombshell.” “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”