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THIRTY-FOUR

MADELINE

The puck drops after the national anthem, and it’s nonstop action from the very beginning. The crowd is loud, standing when the Stars almost score and cheering when Liam blocks multiple shots on goal.

Lucy knows exactly what’s going on. She tries to keep me up to speed, but I’m lost when she starts mentioning words like icing and cross checking .

The first period ends with the score tied at zero, but nothing about it is boring. Lucy and I sneak down to the lounge at intermission to grab an ice cream to share, and we add way too many crushed Oreos on top.

When the second period starts, the group of women in front of us stand. Every time Hudson skates by, they pound on the glass and try to get his attention. They hold up a heart they make with their hands, hoping he can see it.

I’m all for appreciating a man’s body. They’ve been gawking at women for decades, and we deserve to be the ones doing the eye-fucking for a change, but I draw the line at their offhanded comments. There’s a sour taste on my tongue when they say things like he’s a fine piece of ass and if he knocked me up, I’d force him into letting me keep the baby , and I do my best to not let them ruin our night.

Maverick scores with four minutes to go in the period to give the Stars the lead, and the way the players celebrate his goal is absurdly cute. The game turns rough in the third period. A scuffle breaks out between Grant and a Denver player after the two start shoving each other, and they both end up in the penalty box.

I watch every play while sitting on the edge of my seat. My heart is somewhere in my throat, and I didn’t realize how intense the game is.

Being this close adds a new layer to it. You can hear how hard the contact is. You can see the grimace of pain when they get slammed into the walls. When Hudson lands on the ground after a rough hit, I spring to my feet, checking to see if he’s holding the shoulder he hurt before. I’m overwhelmingly relieved when he gets up and keeps playing.

It’s so fun .

Adrenaline courses through me every time the Stars have possession. Every time Liam makes a diving save or lifts his glove to catch the puck, I gasp with the rest of the crowd.

The other team ties it up with a goal late in the period. I expect the Stars to panic, but they don’t. With fifty seconds to go, Riley tears down the ice and banks in an answering goal that sends the arena into a frenzy. Lucy jumps up and down and hugs me around my waist. The guys pile on each other while they tap Riley’s helmet.

The energy carries the Stars the rest of the final minute. When the final buzzer sounds and the Stars secure the win, streamers fall from the rafters. The crowd cheers, and the Hudson Hayes fan club almost loses their minds when he skates over and tries to toss one of his gloves to Lucy.

One of the women snatches it out of the air and clutches it to her chest. He frowns, disappointed.

“Hey,” he yells. “That was for the kid behind you.”

“Oops.” She giggles. “Finder’s keepers.”

Hudson meets my gaze. I shrug and pick up Lucy. It’s really not a big deal, and I don’t want to create any issues. We give him a wave and fight through the mass of people exiting the building into the cold February air.

She falls asleep on the Metro ride, and when we get back to the condo, I tuck her in bed with a kiss on her forehead.

An hour later, I check my phone to see if Hudson is close so I can start his dinner. I find his location dot down in the parking garage, and I turn on the oven.

The front door opens and closes with a click. Gus and Millie come barreling down the hall, and I give them each a pat on the head.

“There are my favorite friends. Look how clean and fancy you are with your Valentine’s Day bandanas. You’re so festive.”

“Favorite friends?” Hudson trudges into the kitchen and folds himself onto one of the barstools. “I didn’t realize I was in second place behind the dogs.”

“Technically, you’re in third place. There are two dogs, Hudson.”

He grins. “Fair enough. Did you and Lucy have fun at the game?”

“That was unbelievable. I think I’m going to have to purchase season tickets after tonight.” I hand him a bowl of salad, sliding the vinaigrette he likes his way. “Luce is never going to let us sit in the nosebleeds.”

“I like sitting close. You lose a little of the view, but being in the thick of the action makes up for it.”

“How do salmon and green beans sound for dinner?”

“Delicious. I’m starving.”

“You are?” I wash my hands then pull out the fish I marinated earlier this afternoon. “Is this an every night thing or something new?”

“Hard to tell.” Hudson shrugs and finishes his salad in record speed. “I’m always hungry, but I’ve always had a fast metabolism.”

“I’m going to up your protein and fiber next week to see if that helps. I’ll also work on adjusting your pregame meals to include more carbs.”

“You know, if the chef thing doesn’t pan out—which it obviously will, because you’re amazing at it—you’d have a solid career in athlete nutrition.”

I slide the fish in the oven and set a timer. “I’m not sure I have the qualifications for that.”

“That’s not true.” He drops an elbow on the island and yawns. “I’m eating better than every guy on the team. Coach made a comment today about how I’m quicker than I was last season. I’m squatting more in the weight room, and that’s because of how you’re fueling me.”

“Thanks for all the flattery.” I smile and grab a plate from the cabinet. “It’s part of my job, though. Just like how yours is to hit the puck.”

“How did I hit the puck tonight?” Hudson asks. “Grade my game from A to F.”

“Given I know nothing about hockey, I’d say you were a C,” I tell him, pulling a random letter from thin air, and he groans.

“A C? Come on. What would’ve gotten me an A, Galloway?”

“Throwing your glove so Lucy could reach.” I pause and coat the pan with olive oil for the green beans. “You have a lot of fans.”

“Do I?”

“Did you miss all the women screaming at you?”

“Ah.” His cheeks flush a dark shade of red. “I tune it out. The attention makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to someone holding up a sign with their cell phone number on it, so it’s best for me to ignore it. I’m there to do my job, you know?”

“You said hi to me and Lucy.”

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

“Really?”

“Really. I’m sorry about the glove. That was shitty of her. Everyone knows sports etiquette is to give the gear to a kid if they’re around.” He tips his head to the side, glancing at me. “I have a closet full of stuff she can sort through. I don’t want her to feel left out.”

My chest hurts at the sincerity behind his apology. I was teasing him. Lucy doesn’t understand what she missed out on, but his acknowledgment of it means the world.

Thoughtful, considerate, and lovely.

Just like he always is.

“We’ll be back for another game. We’ll try again,” I say, and his grin rivals the sun.

“If you want season tickets, just say the word. I’ll buy you seats anywhere in the arena.” Hudson pauses. “Do you want your spectating grade for the night?”

“My spectating grade?” I laugh. “What are you judging me on? How loud I yelled?”

“That’s one of the criteria. I saw you cheering, so you get an A for enthusiasm.”

“I’ve always been a good student.”

He scoots back in his chair and stands. He walks around the corner of the island until he’s close to me. “You failed in one area, though.”

“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me how I can improve for next time?”

“Turn around,” he says in a low voice. My feet move in a small circle until my back is to him. Until I can’t see him but can only hear him, and I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where this is going, but I want to find out. “We’re friends, right?”

I squeeze my thighs together. My breath gets stuck in my throat. There’s nothing friendly about the thoughts I’m currently having, but I nod anyway. “We are.”

“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.”

My heart nearly flatlines at the insinuation behind his words. I should be pushing him away, but I don’t want to.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Next time I’ll wear your jersey.”

“Good. I see an A plus in your future.” He pulls his hand away, and I miss the contact immediately. He claps and grins. “Ready to eat?”

I nod again, lost for words.

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