Page 5

FIVE

HUDSON

PUCK KINGS

Easy E

I have good fucking news, lads.

Sully

You’re being traded?

Easy E

Whoa. Easy there, Goalie Daddy. You’d miss me if I got shipped out west.

Sully

Debatable.

Mavvy

Don’t listen to him, Ethan. What’s up?

Easy E

DAVE’S DOGS IS COMING BACK TO THE ARENA, BABY.

I started a petition with the food and bev people, and he’s coming BACK!

Mitchy

This is why you’re interrupting our rest before the game? To tell us a hot dog vendor is back?

G-Money

LET’S FUCKING GO!!!!

Me

I’m happy for you, E, but you couldn’t wait until tonight to tell us?

Seymour

I was two seconds away from falling asleep. If I suck tonight, I’m blaming you, Ethan.

Easy E

It’s the preseason, boys!!! You’ll be fine!!

G-Money

I kind of want a hot dog now lol.

Easy E

Want to go to the cart on the corner across from the hotel and get one???

Sully

I’m going to commit a murder.

Me

Move it to a private chat, y’all. And don’t eat anything that will make you shit your pants tonight.

Mavvy

Your alternate captain knows what’s up, children. And shut up so I can sleep.

Easy E

Love u dad

G-Money

Xoxo Mavvy Daddy

Wait. Does Emmy call you Daddy? Lol

Easy E

No way. He probably calls her Mommy. I would!

Mavvy

I’m going to break your jaw.

G-Money

It’s so fun when he gets riled up!!!

*Sully has left the chat*

*Easy E has added Sully to the chat*

Sully

I’m changing my number the second we get home. Fuck all of you.

Easy E

Love you too, GK!!!

Me

Hey, Madeline. This is Hudson.

Hudson Hayes. From the other night?

Madeline

Hello, Hudson Hayes. I remember you.

Me

I’m in New York for a game tomorrow, but we’ll be back on Sunday. Are we still good for Monday? I’m not sure how long you’re in town, but we can adjust if needed.

Madeline

Monday is perfect. Where should I meet you?

Me

My place would be nice so you can get a feel of where you’d be working, but we can meet back up at Piper and Liam’s if that makes you more comfortable. I know we barely know each other.

Madeline

You’re not a serial killer, are you?

Me

Last I checked I wasn’t.

Madeline

Cool. Monday at your place sounds great!

Me

That was the whole test?

Madeline

No. That was only part of the test.

Me

Can’t wait to see what else you’re going to put me through.

Madeline

Have a good match tomorrow night!

Me

Game. We play games, not matches.

If I played cricket, that would’ve worked really well.

(But thank you. That’s kind of you to say)

Madeline

It’s all the same, isn’t it? You’re trying to get an object in the goal. Match. Game. It doesn’t matter. Go sports!

Me

This is going to be fun.

“How are you feeling?” Maverick asks, and I look up from lacing my skates. “Ready to get back in the groove?”

“You’re the one who took a month off, Miller,” I say. “Are you ready to get back in the groove?”

“I’m not sure how I’m feeling, to be honest. I think I’m excited.”

“How was the doctor’s appointment?”

“Fine. Emmy told me she’s going to keep playing, and she’ll be disappointed if I don’t face off against her in our regular season opener. I swear the people who make the schedules did that on purpose.” He laughs and grabs his helmet. “I love my girl to pieces, but I’m not going to hand her the victory willingly. It’s always more fun when she has to work for it.”

“I don’t need to know about your sex life.” I grimace and adjust my jersey over my pads. “Keep that shit to yourself, please.”

“I wasn’t talking about it like that, you perv. I genuinely meant kicking her ass on the ice.” Maverick takes off his glove with his teeth so he can flip me off. “How’d your interviews go? Did you find a new chef yet? You haven’t knocked on our door in search of food, so I assumed you figured everything out.”

“I think I did find someone. Piper introduced me to this woman who used to be an executive chef, and it might be a good fit. She’s coming by on Monday to talk some more, and she doesn’t give a shit about who I am. I could show her my Stanley Cup championship ring and she’d probably ask what it’s from.”

“Can she cook?”

“She’s like Gordon fucking Ramsay. The chicken curry she made for dinner the other night was the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Wow, man.” Maverick smirks. “If that’s the case, you need to get out more.”

“Shut up. I meant she’s a damn good cook,” I say.

“Look at you. You’re fucking blushing .”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, you are.” He taps my shin with the blade of his stick and grins. “Is she hot?”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“Classic deflection. Means she is.”

“Who’s hot?” Riley Mitchell, my defense pair, asks as he takes the spot next to me. “Does Huddy Boy have a new woman in his life?”

“I haven’t dated anyone since Alyssa broke up with me before New Year’s last year,” I say. “And no one is hot.”

“You’re such a bad liar. We’ll finish this conversation on the bench.” Maverick whistles, and the team looks at him. “Listen up, boys. It’s our first game of the year. Last season’s Cup win doesn’t mean shit anymore; every team is starting at zero. I know it’s the preseason and the first two lines are only going to play a handful of minutes tonight, but it’s still a chance to find our chemistry and figure out our footing. For the guys who are trying to earn a spot on the team, play your asses off. You don’t know who is watching out there. For the veterans who’ve been here a few years, this isn’t a chance to slack off. Training camp is over. We’re not fucking around, okay?” He looks around the group, and everyone nods. “Good.”

“Two minutes,” Coach Saunders yells, and he barely glances up from his whiteboard. “Let’s get moving.”

“Hands in,” I say, and twenty-two gloved hands reach around mine. “Stars on three. One, two, three.”

“STARS,” all the boys yell, and we knock our sticks together. Ethan Richardson, our center, jumps up and down. Grant Everett, our right wing on the second line, hits the wall above the door to the hall. Everyone else hoots and hollers, and I smile at the chaos that’s become such an important part of my life.

Adrenaline races through me like it always does before we take the ice. Decades of playing hockey, and it hasn’t lost its thrill. Every time I get to go out with my brothers and play the sport I love, I consider it a good day.

The guys file out of the locker room, but I hang back. Maverick turns to look at me and gives me a nod. It’s his subtle way of telling me to take my time. When I’m alone, I touch the tattoo on my thigh, the one hidden by layers of gear and clothes, and I smile up at the ceiling.

“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.”

I kiss my finger and point up. Feelings in check and ready to shove some grown men into tempered glass, I slowly emerge from the locker room. I find Maverick leaning lazily against the wall waiting for me, and he lifts his chin in my direction.

“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.”

My muscles are screaming at me.

No amount of training in the offseason can prepare you for being back on the ice where everything moves fast as hell and the stakes are high. I’m getting outskated by a rookie, and I groan when I jump over the boards and off the ice so the second line can take over.

“Holy shit,” Maverick pants. He squirts water on his neck and shakes his head. “I’m getting my ass handed to me.”

“You and me both.” I chug down two gulps of a sports drink. “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.” He stands and watches the next line take the ice. His joking grin disappears, and he slips into captain mode. “A couple of these guys are playing well tonight.”

“Hughes is good at left wing. His passes are sloppy, but I’m betting it’s a mix of excitement and nerves. We could use the help on the third line after Delato signed with Vancouver over the summer. I’d like to see more of him.”

“So would I. Hope he makes the cut. Bailey is doing well in goal. Fifteen stops through two periods isn’t shabby for a twenty-two-year-old playing in his first NHL game.”

“Liam worked with him during training camp. Nothing says ‘welcome to the big leagues’ like the best goalie in the sport giving you feedback. Where did he go to school?” I ask.

“West Bridge University up in New Hampshire. Won the Hockey East Player of the Year when he was a sophomore and helped his team win the Frozen Four. He played for the World Juniors too.”

“Impressive resume. They’ve got a solid program up at WBU. I like that kid Donohue who plays for them right now. He reminds me of you. Might be the next big thing.”

Maverick hums but doesn’t agree with me. He might be cocky, but he’s humble when it comes to accepting praise about his athletic ability.

“Let’s go, Johnson,” he yells at the defenseman trying to earn a spot on the team. He looks at me as he takes a pull from his water bottle. “I’ve missed this.”

“What? Games?”

“Yeah, games. But shooting the shit with you. Talking about players’ strengths and weaknesses. The thrill of it all.” He laughs and stands, hitting the boards with his stick when our left wing on the fourth line barely misses a wrist shot. “Maybe I’m not ready to go yet.”

“You’ll know when it’s time. And until then, I hope you’ll stick around and keep giving me shit,” I say.

“Christ.” Grant groans, rolling over the boards. He clutches his side and drops his head between his legs when he collapses on the end of the bench. “I’m dying.”

“Hot dog not sitting well?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“There’s a brick in my stomach. I puked during intermission. Think I might fake an injury so I don’t have to go back out there. I can spend time in the athletic trainers’ room with Lexi. That sounds way more fun than regurgitated meat,” he says.

“Don’t compare Lexi to regurgitated meat,” Riley chimes in. “This is your own fault.”

“Shut up, Mitchy.”

“Grant—you can puke again during the next intermission, but you’re getting back on the ice. Riley—focus on the game, not what someone is saying about your girl,” I tell them.

“She’s not my girl,” Riley grits out.

“You look at her like she’s your girl,” Mav teases.

“Coach is going to add on laps at practice on Tuesday if y’all don’t knock it off.” I lean against the boards and watch Connor McKenzie, one of our centers, take an elbow to the throat. I clap when the referee points for the Brooklyn Hawks player to head to the penalty box, giving us a much-needed power play. “Show these guys the respect they show us. Not all of them are on multimillion-dollar contracts. They’re fighting for their lives out there.”

“Damn, Hud.” Grant nudges me. “You’re so full of wisdom and shit.”

“Someone on this team has to be,” I say.

“Everett,” Coach barks out, and Grant sits up straight. “Get your head out of your ass.”

The game ends with us earning a 3-1 victory. I only played fifteen minutes, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to give the rest of the guys a chance to shine.

We head to the locker room and shower, then make our way to the bus that will take us to the airport. It’s late, but I’m glad we’ll be home tonight so I can sleep in my own bed with my dogs. Spending over fifty nights in a hotel room throughout the season loses its appeal pretty fast.

Maverick passes out the second we’re seated on the charter plane. I snap a quick picture of him for blackmail, and I notice a message from Madeline that came through an hour ago. I swipe it open.

Madeline

Nice GAME tonight.

I smile and rest my head against the seat. She’s probably asleep, but I fire off a response anyway.

Me

Thanks. Safe to say I’m in the clear from your attempted poisoning the other night. Can’t wait to see what you try next.

Three dots appear then disappear. I tap the side of the screen and wait, wondering if she’s going to answer. Just as I’m about to turn off my phone for takeoff, it buzzes again.

Madeline

I’m particularly good with knives.

See you soon, Hudson Hayes.