Page 25

TWENTY-FIVE

HUDSON

I can’t sleep.

My shoulder is fucking killing me.

I can’t get comfortable in bed, and the second round of pain medicine hasn’t helped the ache.

Groaning, I throw the sheets off my legs. Gus and Millie don’t budge from the end of the bed when I climb off the mattress and stand, and I’m jealous of the cute fuckers.

I roll my arm back, seeing how much movement my body has. My muscles are stiff as hell, and I know the exercises Lexi is going to put me through at practice in the morning are going to make me hurt even more.

Grabbing a Stars sweatshirt, I slowly pull the hoodie over my head and open the door out to the balcony. Some fresh air sounds nice, even if the December air is biting cold, and I shiver when I look out at the quiet city.

“Can’t sleep?” a soft voice asks from a few feet away, and I jump.

“Holy shit.” I put my hand over my heart and turn to find Madeline smiling my way. “You scared the hell out of me. Are you a fucking ninja?”

“To be fair, you didn’t look around when you came out here. You startled me , hockey guy.”

“My sincerest apologies, KG. I thought I’d be the only one wide awake at three in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She pulls on the strands of her robe and folds her arms across her chest. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and a few rogue dark brown pieces fall out of the knot on top of her head. Her socks are pink, and I spy a pair of plaid pajama pants under her robe. “Would you mind some company?”

“Course I wouldn’t mind. This is shared space.”

“I didn’t see your name anywhere, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Ah. You should’ve looked harder.” I tap my knuckles on the metal ledge. “Some of the guys and I added our signatures when I bought the place.”

“I don’t believe you.” Madeline bends down, tilting her head so she can see under the railing. “No shit.”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Someone could saw this off and sell it for a lot of money.”

“Talk about a safety hazard. And you think my teammates and I are more famous than we probably are.”

She laughs and shuffles backward so she can rest her elbows on the railing, leaning against it. When she looks at me, she frowns. “Is your shoulder still hurting?”

“Yeah.” I drag a loveseat over to us with my one good arm and sit. “I’ve taken some hits in the past, but this one was brutal.”

“Are you ever scared when you’re playing?”

“No.” I flex my fingers and roll my wrist. “I know accidents happen. Add in the fact we play on blades, and that’s another element of safety. But I trust the guys in the league to not do stupid shit. I trust our medical staff to take care of me if something does go wrong. Tonight was a one off because the guy is a dick.”

“A total dick,” Madeline agrees, and I smile.

“How’s your hand?”

“Better. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve had worse.”

“Worse than that ? There was blood on my counter.”

“Like, a drop. It’s not going to scar, and I’ll be able to hold a knife correctly tomorrow. And if not, I guess you’ll be eating some of my fingertip with breakfast.”

“Kinky. Scrambled eggs always taste better with pieces of human in them.”

“Now I never want to eat again.” It’s her turn to laugh, and she giggles before letting out a sigh. “I know it’s part of your job, but I’m sorry you got hurt. That can’t be very fun for your body.”

“What are you talking about? Getting slammed into things for the last twenty-five years is a hell of a time. At least I still have all my teeth.” I grin at her. “Is your hand keeping you up? Is it Lucy?”

“She was out like a light when I put her to bed around eight. They had a book fair at school yesterday, and the excitement wore her out.” Madeline pauses. “There are some things on my mind.”

“If you want to talk about it, I know a guy.”

“I need a minute,” she says.

“Sure. Of course.”

“Stay there.”

She leaves through the sliding glass door that leads to her bedroom, and I glance at the sky while I wait for her to come back.

When she returns a few minutes later, she’s armed with with a big blanket, two glasses of milk, and a plate stacked with cookies. I don’t know how she’s holding everything.

I scoot over so there’s room for her on the bench. When she’s sitting, I take the blanket from her and spread it out over our laps.

“This is a serious operation,” I say.

“It’s a cookie conversation. Well, it’s more like a tequila conversation, but getting drunk at three in the morning when it’s freezing outside sounds like the start of a murder mystery.”

“I don’t have a lot of mobility in my arm. They wouldn’t be able to frame me.”

“You and I both know you don’t have a murderous bone in your body.” Madeline shifts her position until our arms touch. She hands me a glass of milk and smiles. “There. Much better.”

“I allowed to eat before you start talking?”

“Of course. I’m an instant gratification kind of girl.”

She passes me the plate of perfectly baked cookies, and I’m in awe. They look like they were made in a high-end bakery, not my kitchen.

I wonder when I’ll stop being impressed by what Madeline creates.

I take a bite, and an embarrassing sound leaves my throat. The cookie is soft and gooey and full of cinnamon. My shoulders sag, and I’d be shocked if I didn’t have hearts in my eyes.

“That—” I lick my lips. I might lick my fingers next. Fuck manners. “Is the best cookie—the best bite of food —I’ve ever eaten.”

“It is not.”

“I swear to god, Madeline. Bury me in a casket of these, because nothing will ever taste this good again.”

“That’ll be fun to explain to the funeral home.” She takes a bite of her own cookie, and her smile fades. “Lucy’s dad liked a photo on my Instagram.”

My hand freezes halfway to the plate on its way to a second Snickerdoodle. I know I need to be careful with how this conversation goes, because it’s the first piece of information Madeline’s offered up about her ex besides the fact that he’s not in the picture.

“Is that not something he normally does?” I ask.

“No. I haven’t talked to him in six years.”

“Hang on.” I turn my body to face her. “ Six years? ”

“That’s not even the worst part of the story.”

“It gets fucking worse? ”

“My ex and I met when he came into my restaurant while he was on a business trip to Ohio. I had to talk to someone at his table about a food allergy, and he caught me eye. We hit it off, but we didn’t exchange numbers. I thought it was the last time I’d see him. Two months later, he came back, asked me out, and we started dating. It was long distance at first, but I moved to Vegas to be with him about a year into our relationship.” She stops to take a sip of her milk, and I’m on the edge of my seat—literally. “We got married, and we were so happy. Lucy came into the world, and things went downhill. Remember how I told you we learned she’s deaf? My ex, Clark, didn’t take the news well.”

“ Clark ? Let me fucking guess: he’s in banking or finance or some other cushy job like that.”

“Investment banking, actually,” she says, and there’s a hint of a smile behind her words. “After we learned about Lucy’s diagnosis, he kept finding excuses not to be around. He skipped a doctor’s appointment and started staying out late.” She plays with the sleeve of her robe, her voice dropping to soft and sad. “A month after she was born, I came home to divorce papers on the kitchen table. Child support gets deposited in an account once a month, but I don’t use it. I haven’t heard from him since he walked out on us. Until tonight.”

I swear the earth stops spinning. She’s still talking, but I’m not listening because my vision turns red. My blood boils, and I’m tempted to throw a chair off the balcony. To break a window—or someone’s neck.

I know violence isn’t the answer. My parents always taught me to solve my problems with my words, not my fists. The sport I play is inherently rough, but I’ve only been in one fight in my playing career.

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.

A responsibility I’m glad to accept.

“Hudson?” Madeline puts her hand on my arm. My eyes snap to where she’s touching me. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m having a hard time processing what you told me. I can’t imagine a world where a man would leave his wife and daughter because she…” I don’t even want to say the words. I can’t comprehend being that cold. As if Lucy’s deafness is her entire personality when, really, it’s a tiny part of who she is as a person. “I fucking hate him.”

“Join the club. I can make us shirts if you want,” she teases, but it doesn’t help to lighten my mood. “I’m okay, Hudson. Everything in my life has worked out exactly as it should. I’m happy. Lucy is happy, and that’s the most important thing.”

“Is this why you’re not a romantic? Because of what happened in your past?” I ask, and she nods.

“It’s so cliché, but my divorce ruined love and romance and relationships for me. We said vows that evidently didn’t mean anything. It makes me not want to try again, because what’s the point?”

I hum, understanding her reasoning. I’ve been like that since Mom passed away: what’s the point of loving someone if they’re eventually going to leave you?

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.

“What—” I break off another piece of cookie. These are going to get me in trouble if I’m not careful. “What photo did he like?”

“Oh.” Madeline chuckles. “I have a personal account that’s private. He doesn’t follow me there. I have a separate account where I’ll share dishes I’ve made recently. When I was in Vegas, I shared CARVD’s weekly menu as well. I haven’t been active on it the last few months, but I opened it up today. He liked an old post showing off a casserole I love to make. I’m being incredibly conceited and pretending the like was by a woman he’s dating who’s trying to dig up dirt on me.”

“He follows your chef page?”

“He did when we were married, and I guess he still does. I bet he forgot to unfollow me. He never used to use social media all that much.”

“Must be some casserole.” I laugh. “And two Instagrams, huh? I’m going to have to hunt them down. What kind of stuff do you post on your personal one?”

“I don’t use it all that much either, but it’s mostly photos of Lucy. There’s one on there from a year ago that I love. I snapped it without thinking about it. It’s Lucy from behind—in a Stars shirt, actually. At the game you all played in Vegas.”

I wonder if I saw Madeline in the crowd that night. I wonder if our eyes met during a timeout or before the game.

They probably didn’t, because she’s impossible to miss.

My gaze bounces to her mouth, and I notice how soft her lips look. I can’t help but wonder what she’d taste like. Cinnamon? Sugar?

What would she feel like if I put my hand on her waist? If I dragged my fingers across her stomach and dipped them lower?

I look away.

Those urges weren’t there a week ago, and I don’t know why they’re here now.

Is it because we’re sharing things with each other? Is it because her eyes sparkle like the stars? Is it because I haven’t felt this kind of closeness with a woman who wasn’t Piper, Lexi, or Emmy in what seems like ages?

Or ever.

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.

“We won that night,” I finally say. “Liam had an unbelievable game. He and Piper got married after, actually. They were drunk off their asses.”

“Piper mentioned that happened, but I haven’t heard the whole story,” Madeline says. “Where did they get married?”

“Some chapel. We went out to this club on the Strip, and everyone was wasted. That led us into a limo and Maverick and Emmy getting married, then Piper and Liam did the same after.”

“Wait. I went to a club on the Strip that night.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I dropped Lucy off at my parents’ then went out with a friend from work. There was dark lighting and loud music. ”

“Pretty sure you just described every club to ever exist, Mads.”

“There were a lot of people there. VIPs, the bouncer kept saying, so it took us forever to get in. I think the place was called The Library?”

“No shit.” I lean closer to her. “That’s where we were.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I swear to god. I’ll show you the credit card charge for my twelve-dollar bottle of water.”

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

“I guess so.” I pop a cookie in my mouth. “If your ex, Fark, ever bothers you again and you want someone to put him in his place, let me know. I’m more than happy to give him a piece of my mind.”

“His name is Clark.”

“Oh, I know what it is. That wasn’t a mistake.”

Madeline laughs. “Noted. I doubt he’ll make any more contact—tonight was probably accidental—but if he does, I’ll send him your way.”

“Great.” I nudge her knee. “Think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

“I hope so. It’s hard to hold onto that kind of stuff, you know?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I do know. How about this: since you told me something that’s been on your mind, I’ll tell you something that’s been on mine. Fair trade,” I say.

“I can’t wait to hear.”

“I’m really glad you and Lucy are here.”

“What?” She shoves my uninjured arm. “Come on. That’s not what’s on your mind.”

“Let me finish. My mom passed away a few years ago,” I say.

Madeline freezes. Her grip on me loosens, but she doesn’t let go. “Hudson.”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve been happy like this. And I know you and Lucy are the reason why.”

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Breast cancer. Undetected until it was terminal.” I glance up at the sky. Mom wouldn’t mind that I’m talking about her; she used to love it. She was the life of every party. Bright and warm and so welcoming to others. “It all happened so fast, which I guess is a blessing. She didn’t have to suffer for years. I just… I miss her, you know? I’m doing better mentally than I was when she passed. I go to therapy. I’m not where I was when she was here, and I don’t think I ever will be, but I’m getting close.”

“Oh, you sweet boy.” Madeline sets down her glass and moves the plate. She reaches for me and wraps me in an embrace I didn’t know I needed until I bury my face in her hair and hug her back. Fuck the pain. “I am so sorry.”

“I wanted you to know. We’re friends, and my friends know that part of me,” I say into her neck. She smells like vanilla and the sand on the beach on a warm summer day. “Tonight was the first time someone other than her has taken care of me after I got hurt.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Madeline’s hand moves up and down my back. She rubs soothing circles over my sweatshirt, and her touch helps the tension leave my body. “What was her name?”

“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.”

“She was pretty great.”

“Are the flowers on your leg for her?”

“Yeah.” I let out a soft laugh. “They are.”

“What a beautiful tribute.”

“I’ll share more about her one of these days.”

“When you’re ready, I’d love to hear.”

“Thanks. Want to go back to talking about the Fuck Fark shirts we can wear?”

Madeline rests her cheek on my shoulder and picks up the last bite of her cookie. “What font should we use?”

I choke on a laugh and wipe under my eyes. “Comic Sans. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she repeats, and we settle into silence. A car horn goes off down the block, and I swear I see a shooting star above us. “Hudson?”

“Hm?”

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

We don’t say anything else. I put my chin on top of her head and drape an arm over the back of the bench. 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.