Page 44

FORTY-FOUR

HUDSON

Madeline

Sorry about the loss in Toronto last night.

Me

It’s part of the sport. How are you and Lucy doing?

Madeline

She’s asleep, but we made paninis for dinner. They were so fucking good. That press came in handy.

You know what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it anyway.

Thank you :)

Me

I’m happy to spend money on things that make you happy.

Madeline

Are you on the plane?

Me

Just boarded, and Maverick is already asleep next to me. We’re off to Georgia, then I’ll be home.

Madeline

Are you excited to visit your home state?

Me

I am. My dad is coming to the game. Sucks I don’t get to spend time with him outside the arena, but it’ll be good to see him.

Madeline

I’m so glad. I hope you have fun. We’ll be here when you get back.

We miss you.

Me

Been missing you since the minute I left you, knife girl.

We land in Georgia around two in the morning after a flight delay, and I toss and turn fitfully in the hotel bed. I always sleep poorly when I’m here, and I’m hit with the same mix of emotions that creep up—nerves, anger. The dread of knowing no matter how many times I come back, it’s not going to change the past.

I get up around six, aware I’m awake hours before my alarm with no hope of drifting back to sleep. I’m tired. My body hurts and my stomach growls, but I can’t sit still. I can’t turn my brain off, and after twenty minutes of scrolling through rental cars, I snag a truck to pick up thirty minutes from now.

I throw on a baseball hat, a hoodie, and jeans. Grabbing my phone, I open the door and stop in my tracks when I find Maverick sitting on the carpet in the hall.

His eyes are closed. His head is against the wall and his hands are folded over his chest. I take a step toward him, gently nudging his knee with my foot and waking him up.

“Hey, Huddy.” He groans and stretches his legs. “Was wondering when you were going to roll out of bed.”

“What are you doing here?” I look up and down the hall, confused. I don’t know what I expect to find, but it’s empty except for us. “Are you okay? Is Emmy okay? Please don’t tell me Coach sent you here to break some news about a trade.”

“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.”

A weight pushes on my shoulders. The air in my lungs struggles to escape. A laugh rattles out of me, and I reach for him. He hugs me tight and I hug him back, not letting go until my eyes stop stinging.

“Thank you, Mav,” I manage to get out, grateful my best friend doesn’t say a word about my tears.

“We’re family, Hud. That’s what we do.” He squeezes me another few seconds then lets go. “Let’s get a move on. We have a busy day, and I refuse to lose tonight when your mom is watching.”

The drive to Kennesaw is quick on a Saturday morning without any traffic.

We talk about our game and the upcoming Frozen Four regional games in a few weeks. He turns the stereo up and we sing along with Noah Kahan and Shaboozey at the top of our lungs while we sip our coffee and pass through half a dozen towns.

The sun warms up the earth and makes everything look alive even deep in late February. 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.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he says, cranking up the seat heaters. “But if you need me, just shout.”

Maverick’s come to the gravesite with me before. On the one-year anniversary of her passing and again at year four. I’m in the mood to talk with her today, though, and I wonder if Maverick can sense I need some time alone.

“I’ll be back soon,” I tell him, fumbling for the door. “And come get me if Coach moves up practice.”

“Nah, man. He’ll understand. Take as long as you need.”

I slip out of the car and walk down the gravel path I’ve memorized after dozens of visits. Everything looks exactly the same as it did during my last trip with the tall grass and the big trees. I spot her up ahead, and my pace increases. My heart hammers, and when I finally get to her, I smile.

“Hey, Mama.” I set the flowers on her headstone and sit on the grass. The chill in the air is gone, and I’m happy to bask in the sunshine. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back and visit. You know we won the Cup, but the summer after was busy. I handled the Junior Stars Kids’ Camp, and then my break was over.”

I tip my chin up and look at the sky. There’s not a cloud in sight, and I wonder if that’s her doing.

I bet it is.

The weather is always nice when I stop by, and I imagine it’s her way of asking me to stay a while.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Mom. I mean, I’m always thinking about you, but I’m thinking about you more lately. I met someone, and she’s…” I trail off. “Incredible seems like such an insignificant word to use because she’s so much bigger than that, but she is incredible. Her name is Madeline. She’s a single mom and has the cutest daughter. She’s also my private chef and living with me. We’re friends, but I think we could be more. I think we’re on our way there, but I don’t want to rush her.”

A breeze flits through the air, and I smile, pretending it’s Mom talking back. She’s calling me out on my bullshit line that we’re only friends , and I agree with her.

“I’m learning sign language because Lucy—that’s her daughter—is deaf. I’m working with a tutor at Gallaudet University, and it’s really fucking hard. They deserve someone to put in that effort for them, though. Remember when you tried to get me to take French my freshman year of college? The only class I’ve ever failed, and you weren’t mad at me because at least I tried.”

I laugh again. This is so much better than my therapy sessions. It’s nice to talk to someone who can only listen. It’s nice to spill my guts.

“I really do miss you, Mama. I wish you were here so I could ask how I can be a better support system for Madeline. You always had the best advice. I’ve dated a few women since you passed, and the relationships were always… fine? I wasn’t unhappy or anything like that, but there wasn’t a spark, you know? Not like what you and Dad had, but maybe not everyone is lucky enough to have a love like yours. Maybe that’s a once-in-a-lifetime sort of phenomena, and us average folks won’t ever find it.”

I sigh and rub my forehead with one of my hands. I cross my ankles and close my eyes.

“I told Madeline about you. She shared a story about her shitty ex—sorry, I know you hate when people talk poorly about others, but he’s lower than low, Mom, and you’d agree with me—and I told her you got sick. She hugged me after and held me tight. It was nice. She is nice. She loves to cook, just like you, and she makes me happy. Happy in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been. At least not since you left.”

I wonder if there will come a time when I accidentally miss a year the anniversary of her passing. I wonder if soon it’ll be fifteen, twenty years since she left, and I’ll start to lose the things I can’t see in photographs.

I’ll forget how her laugh sounds. I’ll struggle to remember the traditions she liked to keep at the holidays and what her hugs were like.

It feels like I’m drifting out to sea, away from her. The more time that goes by, the more difficult it is to get to the shore. I’m lost in the ocean with no hope of finding my way back to land.

“Maverick is in the car. He and Emmy have been trying to start a family, but they haven’t had any news yet. I hope they do soon. I’m still don’t think kids are for me. Lucy is great, though. I like her a lot. You’d like her and Madeline a lot, too. Maddie reminds me of you. She loves people with her whole heart. She’s so kind, all the time, and such a good goddamn mom. Just like you were. Are.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it’s my alarm telling me I need to start heading back.

Responsibilities are waiting for me, and no matter how long I want to sit here in the quiet stillness with the person I loved—love—more than anything in the world, people are counting on me. Fans paid money to see me—to see us—play, and I don’t want to let anyone down.

She wouldn’t want me to do that either, and I know I need to go.

“We have a game tonight. The Atlanta Wasps suck this year, so hopefully it’ll be an easy win. I’ll be back soon. I’ll bring Mav next time. Dad, too. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have someone to introduce you to by then.”

My eyes prick with tears. My vision blurs, but I wipe away the emotions before they can fall. I know she’d tell me not to cry over her, but sometimes I can’t help it.

Life is so fucking unfair.

I stand and put my hand on her headstone. I drag my finger over the smooth granite, smiling.

“I love you, Mama. To the stars, the heavens, and beyond.”

I take the walk back to the car slower this time. When I climb inside, Maverick doesn’t say anything. He reaches over, gives me a hug, and drives us to the hotel. I have an ache in my chest the entire ride back.

“Hey, Dad.” I give him a hug in the tunnel, grinning when he ruffles my hair. “Glad I get to see you for a minute.”

“You’re too busy for me these days.” He laughs and takes a step back. “You look good, son. Are you doing okay? Eating right and getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah. I hired a private chef who knows how to do her job. I feel better than I did my rookie year. Wish I found her sooner.”

“You know what they say: everything happens for a reason, even if you don’t know what the reason is at the time.”

“I went and saw Mom. I took her some flowers.” I lean against my stick, wondering where she’s watching from tonight. “I’m going to try to get down here more often.”

“You have a lot on your plate. I know that. She knew—knows—that. No one can fault you for living your life,” Dad says.

“I want to be better about work-life balance. I’m spending more time at home these days. I never really went out before, but it’s so unappealing to me now.”

“Sounds like you have someone special in your life. Tell me about her.”

I think about the evenings on the couch with Lucy and Madeline. First-grade homework on the coffee table and dolls in the kitchen. Carrying Lucy to bed and eating a cookie with Madeline while we split a glass of milk. How much I laugh and how light I feel.

Those little moments don’t sound special by themselves, but in the grand scheme of life, they’re some of my favorite things. What I look forward to on the drive back from the arena, a bright spot after a bad game.

“Yeah. I do.” I smile when I say it, rubbing the back of my neck. “We’ll see what happens.”

“It’s good to see you happy, son. You deserve to be happy.”

“It seems wrong to be happy when others don’t get that chance.”

“That’s life.” Dad shrugs, looking out at the ice. He gives a salute to Liam and Riley and shakes Maverick’s hand when he skates by while warming up. “What’s done is done. Do you really think your mother would want you to stop being happy because of her?”

“No.” I laugh. “She’d tell me to get over myself and knock it off.”

“Exactly. And you know she was never wrong.”

“Five minutes, Hayes,” Coach yells from the end of the tunnel.

“Guess I need to head out there. He sounds like he has a stick up his ass. Someone probably pissed him off,” I say, and Dad gives me a hug. “Thanks for being here, Pops.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Hud.”

I’m having my best game of the season. I break up every shot the Wasps try to sink into our net. I record two assists in the first period and cheer on Maverick and Connor when they both score on pretty wrists shots from twenty feet out.

There’s energy coursing through me. I’m excited. Eager to stay on the ice, and when Coach tries to pull me with two minutes left in the third, I straight up refuse.

“I’m not sitting,” I argue.

“Hayes.”

“Let me finish.” I wipe my forehead with my jersey during a time-out then gulp down half a bottle of Body Armor. “I’ll gladly play with the third line. Come on, Coach. It’s my hometown. My dad is here.”

“You’re fucking up my system,” Coach grumbles, but when he wipes his whiteboard clean and sighs, I know I’ve won. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear any complaining when your legs are heavy tomorrow.”

I give him a grin and jump back on the ice. We’re up by three. The game is already over, but we might as well have some fucking fun until the clock expires.

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.