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

by Chelsea Curto

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.

“That’s right. You’re the blond one.” “Thank you?” “Sorry. I’m not a fan, to be honest.” “Of blond hair?” “Of sports. Athletes. Teams. You could line up half the Stars players in here with eight other men you found on the street, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you all apart.”

“Really? You want to interview me? You barely know me,” Madeline says. “I could’ve poisoned the food.” I snort. I like her sarcasm. “Don’t care. This will be a good way to go.”

“Good?” he asks. “Yeah. You know you don’t have to wait for me.” “You’ve been saying that for years, man. When have I ever listened?” “Never.” I tap my helmet against his. My chest hurts, but some of the pain dissipates when I hear the roar of the crowd. When I see the full arena and my teammates waiting for me. “And I love you for it.” “Love you too, Huddy Boy.” Maverick grins and throws an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

“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.”

She reaches for a knife and weighs it in her hand. Keeping her eyes on me, she does that spinning thing again, and I’m on the edge of my seat. I don’t know why I think that’s hot as hell.

“You’re a good mom,” I say, and her bottom lip quivers. I remind myself to tell her that frequently when she’s around.

He bends and scoops the banana off the floor. “Did you hurl this at me?” “No. I’d never assault my employer after mistaking him for a burglar. Especially after he invited me and my daughter to live in his nice home.”

I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care. Madeline watched our game, and that makes me even prouder than the goal did.

Her smile grows, and there’s an ache in my chest. The spot that’s been fractured for years feels warmer. Brighter. Like a stitch has gone through it. Like I’m being pulled back together.

“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?”

“Hey,” I say sharply, and everyone stares at me. I’m not one to raise my voice, but I hate hearing this kind of shit. “I don’t care if that was a joke. Knock it the fuck off or save it for the bar when I’m not around. And keep my roommate’s name out of your mouth. None of you are touching her, and you’re not going to talk about her like that again. Got it?”

It’s obvious these men are more than just hockey players. They exist outside their uniform and the pucks they hit, and it makes me smile.

“Hell. Who started it?” “Who do you think?” Lexi asks. “Maverick didn’t like the hit you took. No one did. Even Liam got involved. Pretty sure we’re going to finish the game with our fourth line because of penalties.”

“Are you a hockey girl now?” Hudson asks, his voice an octave deeper than it was a minute ago. “Are you staying up and watching my games?”

“Gosh. You really are something else, Mads. A sight for sore eyes.”

He steps closer to me. Our chests almost press together. “You’re having fun, right?” “I’m here with you.” I smile. “Of course I’m having fun. Are you?” “Yeah.” His fingers bunch my dress in their hold, and I let out at shallow breath. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.”

Madeline picks one up off the pan and blows on it. She holds it my way, and her lips pull up into a coy smirk. “Want a taste, hockey guy?” Fuck, do I ever. “Yes.” I swallow. “Please.”

“I’ll be right back.” “Could you make mine with a⁠—” “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.”

Madeline reaches into her bag. A cackle escapes her when she pulls out the gift inside. “You’re not serious.” “Dead serious. Comic Sans and everything,” I say, and she holds up the plain white T-shirt I had printed earlier this week. Fuck Fark is written across the chest, and she covers the curse word so Lucy doesn’t see.

“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.

“The next one is stupid.” She grins. “Does it involve dying your hair?” “Fuck you.” I laugh and hit her in the face with a pillow. She yelps and launches one back at me. “I’m not dying my hair.”

“Maybe we should kiss,” I tell her, not fully knowing what I’m saying. But those lips… and the corner of her mouth… “To see if it brings us good luck.” “You want to kiss me because you want good luck?” “Yeah. But I also want to kiss you because I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

mouth and show her anything but mediocre. Madeline’s movements are slow, tentative. She glances at the TV then back at me. “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.”

“And there are no hard feelings, Madeline. I’m a big boy. I can handle a kiss without it breaking my heart.” His hip bumps mine. “Don’t hide from me anymore, okay? I want to see you.”

She liked that. So did I, but I’m pretty sure telling your roommate you got off to them getting off goes against some moral cohabitation code. I can never, ever mention this. To anyone.

“Next time you come to a game, don’t show up in someone else’s jersey.” His fingers trace the outline of the letters spanning across my shoulders. They dance down my spine, and my eyes flutter closed. “I’ll buy you a hundred jerseys with my name on them so you never run out.” “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.”

“Hey.” Maverick puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’re a catch, Huddy. Your person is out there, and you want to know the wildest fucking thing?” I huff. My breath comes out like a wisp of smoke, and I can’t wait to hear. “What?” “She’s trying to get to you right now. It’s just taking her a little while. Traffic, you know?” “Wow. That might be the deepest thing you’ve ever said, Mav.” “Want me to follow it up with a sex joke?” “Quit while you’re ahead, dude.”

I remember the days when I couldn’t leave my bed. Maverick would come to my apartment, sit next to me on the comforter, and not say a word. He’d stay there for hours, only moving to bring me a bowl of soup that he hand-fed me so I could put something in my body.

“I want to. You do so much by yourself, Maddie, but I’m here when you need to tap out for a minute. I want to help. Let me help.”

Her lips pull up into a grin. She lifts her chin, a dare there, before she says, “Fuck it,” and crashes her mouth against mine.

“Did you…” Her eyes flick to my sweatpants. “In your⁠—” “Come in my pants? Oh, yeah. It’s everywhere. Halfway down my leg. Probably on my foot. The social media comments would have a field day with me. The NHL player who can’t last? The jokes write themselves.”

I felt beautiful. Wanted for the first time in forever. As if I was the most important person in the world.

“In the kitchen?” Emmy asks. “My god. I knew that boy had game. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Anything. Nothing. Whatever you want.” Hudson cups my chin with so much care, I almost melt because of it. “I’m at your mercy.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Madeline. Please be gentle when you kill me.”

“Tell me again how nice I am, Maddie. I can’t wait to fuck that word right out of your mouth.”

He scans the crowd. I swear he looks our way and gives us the quick flash of a smile before he taps the puck with his stick and glides over the ice.

I watch him go, painfully aware of how empty I already feel without him by my side.

“Come on, man.” He holds out his hand, and I pull him to his feet. “Do you really think I’d let you visit her by yourself?” “How did you know where I was going?” “You’re my best friend. You’re not going to come to Georgia and not see your mom,” he says. “I figured you’d want an early start because of the skate we have scheduled at noon. I have a car downstairs, coffee in the cup holders, and some flowers I grabbed from a gas station.”

When we pull up to the cemetery just after seven, I feel… good. Great, almost, and I know it’s because I’m not doing this alone. Maverick puts the car in park and grabs a bouquet from the back seat. It’s an arrangement of tulips and daffodils tied together with a nice bow, and I know Mom would’ve loved the bright colors.

After the time-out, I line up another assist, a pass across center ice to our third right winger. The crowd groans when we score another goal, but I don’t notice. I’m too busy grinning up at my dad, and I swear I can hear my mom cheering for me from the stands.

I’m falling for her. Hard.

“Come on, boys,” Piper teases. I’m not sure she’s even sweating. “Weren’t you saying this should be easy since girls can do it?”

“Guess the saying is true: anything they can do, we can do better.” Emmy gives us a sharp smirk in the mirror. “Maybe if you all smiled more you’d have more fun.”

I could love him. I could love him, and it would

Be gentle with me when you kill me, he said, and I hope I can be just as gentle with his precious heart.

Madeline chews on her bottom lip. She wrings her hands together, almost unsteady on her feet. “You mean that, don’t you?” “Of course I mean it. I’d go to war for your daughter. For you, too.” “Why?” she whispers, and I think of a hundred ways I can answer that question. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I’m determined to show you there are good men out there. Because it’s the bare minimum of what you deserve. Because I’m fucking falling in love with you, and I’d let you break my heart if that’s what you wanted. “Because y’all are mine.” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “And I protect what’s mine.”

“I’ve been practicing my signing. I’ve loved having you and your mom here. And I hope you’ll stick around for a while. You are one of my favorite people in the world, Lucy girl, and I’m so excited we can talk to each other. I might not be very good at it, but I’m going to keep learning for you, okay?”

“Where did you learn to sign? How? When? Why?” “Piper.” I spell out her name, and I’m glad she told me to try speaking and signing at the same time. “I’ve been practicing over the last few months. After practice. Online. Alone in my room. With a tutor from Gallaudet University twice a week. Anywhere I can find someone to talk to.” “You did this for Lucy?” Madeline asks. “Yes. And you.” “Why?” “Why not?”