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

by Chelsea Curto

“What happened?” I look around the room then back at her. “Did someone do this to you?”

I grin and reach down, dragging my thumb over the collection of flowers inked above my knee. There’s a rose and a hibiscus. A lily and a red chrysanthemum. They all form a heart bouquet that takes up a six-inch space on my skin.

After she passed, I wanted to find a way to carry her with me. I wanted her at every game—even the ones I lost. If she were here, she’d probably give me a damn earful for permanently marking up my skin, but this seems like the perfect way to honor her.

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. But really, I want to make him hurt. I want to make him hurt the way he hurt them, and I’ve never felt so… protective of someone before. Like I want to defend them, but since Lucy and Madeline walked through my door, I think it’s part of my job now.

But then I think of all the good parts of love—the parts where you feel complete. Where everything makes sense in the world. And it makes me want to try again.

Maybe it’s because it’s her, and the more time I spend with Madeline, the more I realize she might be the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

“Huh.” Her smile is coy. “Guess we were always destined to cross paths, Bombshell.”

“Sarah.” The curve of my smile hits just below her ear. “I loved—love—her so much.” “I bet she loved you more than anything in this world. Every mother loves their child an infinite amount, and you’re so special, Hudson. She was lucky to have you as a son.”

“Thank you for telling me about your mom. Thank you for listening to me. Just… thank you.”

I like having her by my side. She might be the most favorite friend I’ve ever had, and I know I should be the one thanking her.

I appreciate when he includes Lucy. I appreciate how she’s not overlooked, and if I could have two minutes with Hudson’s mom, I’d make sure to tell her how gentle her son’s soul is.

“Wow,” he repeats. There’s more emphasis behind it the second time. He moves his hand to his chest. “Shit, Madeline. You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.”

“When I said green, I meant that exact shade. You in that outfit, really.” His cheeks are flushed, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “No other variation is ever going to do.”

“We’ll plan something.” Hudson rubs his hand up my arm. “Gosh. You really are something else, Mads. A sight for sore eyes.”

“You do the cookies. I’ll be on clean up duty.”

“Splash of milk and a little bit of sugar.” I smile at her. “I remember, knife girl.” “You do?” “I told you I notice things. Your coffee order is one of them.”

“It’s another way for us to communicate,” I say, and Madeline interprets for me again. “Or to draw pictures.” Lucy flings her arms around my neck, and I smile at the affection. I set the present down and hug her back, running my hand through her hair and squeezing her tight.

“She wants you to know how much she loves being here. How much she loves the dogs and how much fun she has when you’re around,” Madeline tells me.

“I don’t know how long y’all plan to stay, but my home is your home for as long as you’d like it to be. For another year. For five more years,” I say. “You’re both welcome here. If this is what Christmas looks like from now on, I can’t wait to have a whole condo covered in Lucy’s drawings next year.”

“It took me forever, and you’re going to think I’m a horrible parent, but I did it. I pulled up a fake countdown on my phone and pretended it was midnight even though it’s only eleven forty-five,” she says. “That doesn’t make you horrible. It makes you a goddamn genius. And it’s not too much of a lie. We’re only fifteen minutes away.”

“I think I’d like to make more time for myself. Lucy is always going to be my number one priority, but I want to say yes to the things I want to do. That includes taking care of myself and knowing when to delegate some of my responsibilities to other people who are willing to help.”

The admission that not a single woman has caught my eye, because I’ve been thinking about her lately. Nonstop, really. Wanting to touch her. Wanting to taste her. Wanting to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until she’s dizzy and forgets her name.

More freckles across her nose than I thought she had, and there’s no world where I want to start the year with anyone but her.

“Yeah. But I also want to kiss you because I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“What else have you been thinking about?” “You,” I say. “In every way I shouldn’t want you. In every way I can’t have you.” The one-minute warning comes. Everything narrows down to her, and the careful way she puts a hand on my chest. How her fingers fan out over my shirt and she twists the cotton, pulling me toward her. As if I wouldn’t go willingly. As if I wouldn’t fucking crawl or run or climb a mountain to get there.

A man gone, because she’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and once isn’t going to be enough. A million fucking times won’t be enough.

I don’t want her to feel nice. I want her to feel like she’s on top of the damn world. Like she’s never experienced something so good, and I want to be the one to get her there.

I sigh and drop my head against the wall. “She’s… she’s become my favorite person in the world, and I’m confused because I don’t do stuff like this.”

“Night, Huddy Boy. Don’t kiss anyone else.” I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

When our eyes lock, I realize how much I’ve missed him. How I’ve come to love the time we spend together, and I bite my lip to hold back a wide smile at the sight of him.

There’s a flash of disappointment across his face before it melts into a smile with a dimple and some eye wrinkles. Marvelously beautiful and marvelously not mine.

She used to tell me to be grateful for my pretty face, my smart brain, and my athletic ability, because I couldn’t cook for shit.”

I could be gentle. Rough. I could fuck her like I hated her or I could make love to her and kiss her soft and sweet. I’d get on my knees and beg, or I’d ask her to say please if that’s what she liked.

I’d rather be a sinner with her than a saint with anyone else.

I should be ashamed. I should go to church on Sunday and repent for my transgressions.

If she wants to be friends, I’m going to be the best damn friend she’s ever had.

His mouth curls into a grin. “I’m going to propose to her at the end of the season.”

“You’ve been sure about her even when she was married to someone else?” I ask, and he nods. “Yeah. I’ve never been patient about anything in my life, but with her? I’d wait a thousand years if I had to.”

“I want to learn sign language so I can communicate with Lucy. I want to be able to ask about her day and tell her about mine. I want to know what she’s saying to Madeline that makes her laugh so much. I want to be included, but more importantly, I want to include her in my conversations instead of talking around her. I should’ve started learning it sooner. I don’t know why I waited so long, but I⁠—”

Piper makes me sound like a hero, when, really, I’m just treating people how I’d want to be treated. The right way to be treated, and that boils over to Madeline and Lucy too.

“And I don’t ever remember feeling this light. Especially since after the funeral. It’s really nice to have a friend around.”

She’s fun as hell. Smart, too, and it’s been fun to forge a friendship with her. I’ve liked watching her grow and change and learn things she wasn’t sure of before. I taught her how to handle the dogs on a walk, and now we do a lap around the neighborhood together every night I’m home if it’s not too cold.

If men can fuck whoever they want, so can I.

“A rinkside reporter? The head athletic trainer? You two are incredible. If only Emmy was playing against the Stars tonight. Then I could cheer on three badass women.”

There’s room for all of us in this sport. Forget what the men say.”

“Hey.” He knocks his stick against the glass again, and I jump. “My eyes are up here, Galloway.”

“You’re different. I like y’all. You’re my favorite girls in the arena, no matter what anyone else’s shirt says.”

“And if I don’t want to wear your jersey?” I ask with a hint of defiance. He brushes a strand of hair away from my neck so he can whisper in my ear. He’s not touching me, but it feels like he is. “I might be nice, Madeline, but I can also be very persuasive.”

I don’t know what I want more: to wear his name across my back, or to learn how persuasive Hudson Hayes can be.

Liam makes a good point about society only being able to function as long as there are people who aren’t totally good or totally bad that are able to sway in the needed direction when the time calls for it.