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

by Chelsea Curto

For the ones with gentle souls and hearts made of gold. (And for the readers who love to see the sweet six-foot-two NHL player use his mouth for something other than talking… Hudson Hayes is for you)

The best part of my job is being in charge of entitled men who think they’re better than me because they have a dick.

A week of job searching has left me empty-handed and on the brink of joining OnlyFans.

Every day I’m losing faith I’ll find anything comparable to my previous salary, and every day I’m closer to selling pictures of my feet on the internet.

“Did you set me up on a blind date? My shirt has a hole in it, Piper. That’s not how I make a good first impression. And I didn’t bring wine. Flowers. Anything.”

I swear I haven’t seen her before. I’d remember her if I did. There’s a blue apron tied around her waist. Her dark hair is long and falls halfway down her back. A dusting of freckles sits on the bridge of her nose, and her eyes are brown, big and wide. She’s shorter than me, probably five seven or so, with curves like an hourglass. Whoever she is, she seems relaxed in her leggings and high socks. The pink sweater she’s wearing slips off her shoulder and shows off creamy skin and the tease of a tattoo just below her collarbone.

“For you, Mom,” I say to the empty room. “Always for you.” One of the overhead lights flickers, and I laugh. “Yeah. I know you’re here. You wouldn’t miss this. Sometimes I can still hear you yelling at me to get the rebound.” I pause, my shoulders heavy and my eyes wet with tears. “Fuck. I miss you, Mama.”

“What was with the penalty you got earlier? I saw you chirping that dude.” “He liked one of Emmy’s photos on Instagram last week, and it pissed me off. The hit was worth the two-minute timeout I got in the sin bin.” “You’re joking.” “Nope.” “You might be the most deranged man I’ve ever met.” “Nah. Just an idiot in love.”

I’ve never been drawn to blond men, but he’s an anomaly. From the deep blue eyes and the scruff of his well-trimmed beard to his shaggy hair and the way he holds himself like he commands the attention of everyone in the room, Hudson Hayes has me curious.

Grief is a fucking menace.

He gives me a wave and flips his hat backward before walking toward us. Jesus Christ. Shit like that should be illegal for men to do in public.

The only sign he’s been there is a different sticky note on the counter. Always in the same place—right by the stove—and always with the same message: a thank you scribbled in his messy handwriting.

I take out my earphone and glance at him with one eye open. “You’re incredibly needy.” “Probably because I was abandoned as a child and I’m making up for it as an adult. That’s what my therapist says.”

“There’s nothing special about me.” I frown. She’s not wrong about many things, but she’s wrong about that. Madeline Galloway is special, and I’m sad she’s been led to think otherwise.

The usual pang of sadness hits me like it always does when someone talks about their mom. It’s a jealous ache of knowing they get to spend time with a person important to them, and I don’t.

When she sticks out her tongue and waves to Lucy, I know I made a damn good choice with these two.

“We need to make him watch the ‘Juno’ positions clips and figure out which ones he likes.” Grant drops to the floor and thrusts into the rug. “Have you ever tried this one, Hud?”

There are a lot of men in the world, but I’m learning there’s only one Hudson Hayes.

“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.”

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.

She’s so soft, and when she kisses the corner of my mouth, I whimper.

“I’m not kissing you unless you tell me to, Madeline. And if I do, it’s not going to be a one-time, casual thing. It’s not going to be a two-time thing. It’s going to mean something, just like it did on New Year’s, because I’m done pretending like I haven’t thought about that night every single day that’s passed. I have. Excessively. But I don’t act on it because I don’t want you to hide from me again. I don’t want to mess this up. You mean too much to me.”

“Fuck it,”

Turning point

Ruin me, I almost say, but I keep that to myself.

Madeline turns to look at me with a wry grin. “I think we can up the intensity, Lexi,” she says, and Grant lets out an honest-to-god wail.

“Because y’all are mine.” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “And I protect what’s mine.”

I don’t add the other things: how I really am falling in love with her and her daughter. How I might not be her father, but I’d walk to the ends of the earth for Lucy. How it’s the right thing to do, and even if she broke my heart, I’d be glad for my time with them.

“She wants to give you a name sign,” Madeline explains, and my heart rate kicks up. “Do you know what that is?” This is the most important moment in my life. Bigger than the Stanley Cup win. Bigger than any contract I could ever sign, and I’m so excited, I’m going to be sick.

“I love you,” he says all of a sudden, and I freeze. “I love you so much. You and Lucy are the greatest things to ever happen to me, and I… I love you so much it hurts, Maddie, to think about my life without you in it. I… I can’t hold it in anymore. I know I said I’d be patient, but you need to hear it and⁠—” “I love you, too,” I blurt out, a sob escaping me with the four words. “I love you so much, and I’ve loved you for so long. Even when I didn’t know what the feeling was. You’ve done so much for me and for Lucy and… I just want to make sure you’re sure. That this is really what you want, because there’s not going to be a wedding. There aren’t going to be more kids. It’s going to be the three of us, and I want to know if that’s enough.” “Enough?” He takes the tray from my lap and shoves it on the bedside table. “Sweetheart. You are everything to me. I want you, and I don’t give a shit about anything else.” “You’d be okay without a wedding?” “I don’t need one.” “What if you want to be a dad one day down the road?” “Lucy is a gift, and I’d be a lucky guy to be in her life as a father figure.” “No one’s loved me in a very long time, and I’m not sure it’s going to be easy with all my baggage,” I whisper. “Loving you is easier than anything I’ve ever done. It’s like breathing. Something that comes naturally, because I don’t have to think about it. You’re just… there. Perfect and wonderful and mine. Made for me, I think.”