Chapter 29 #2
I glance over after a page and see Lenzin is absently braiding a small section of Lucy’s hair while watching the screen. My heart stutters at how adorable it is.
Turning my gaze to the laptop, I see Hank smiling, and I shake my head and sigh as I look down at the work in front of me, which doesn’t feel like work at all.
Three hours fly by, especially when you fall asleep in a chair, surrounded by people who have softened your hardened heart.
I look toward the kitchen where Lenzin is ladling chicken noodle soup into bowls, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy from Lucy’s fingers, like he’s been in Dad-mode all morning—which he has.
Hank leans dramatically against the counter, holding a sheet of paper like it’s the Declaration of Independence.
He clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting… Hildy’s Game Day Chicken Noodle Soup.”
Lenzin shoots him a warning look. Hank ignores him entirely.
“Inspired by love and motherhood, surrounded by elite-level defensemen, and the burning need to feed growing children and grown men who skate for a living.”
I can’t help but smile.
“One yellow onion, chopped. Three carrots. Celery, garlic. Turmeric for mystery, thyme for love, and broth for the soul.”
Not my words, but I like them.
Lucy peeks around the corner. “Don’t forget the noodles!”
“I was getting there!” Hank says, insulted, and she giggles. “Whole wheat noodles. For your tiny, developing hockey legs.”
Lenzin hands him a bowl with just enough of a shake of his head to admit he’s amused.
“You forgot the part where Mommy says if they win, they get soup. And if they lose, they still get soup. But with extra garlic and a side eye,” Lucy adds with a solemn nod.
Hank gasps, hand over his chest. “You little genius.”
I walk into the kitchen, stealing a piece of garlic bread from the tray. “That’s a new secret family recipe.”
Hank winks, “Good thing I’m family.”
“We’re all family!” Lucy exclaims.
Lenzin winks at her. “That we are.”
“This is a culinary experience. This is soul food with a blocked slapshot.” Hank says, spooning up another bite.
Lenzin slides a bowl in front of me with that quiet little smile.
“Thank you,” I say, eyes soft on him.
He leans down and brushes his lips against my temple. “You did the work where it matters; I just heated it up.”
And yeah, soup has never felt more romantic or sexy.
Behind us, Hank is muttering, “I’m gonna post this with the hashtag ‘Soup Goals.’”
As I have learned, there is always a nap on game days, and today, I am totally here for it. I came in here because Lenzin told me I should rest, and Lucy immediately decided that meant everyone should rest. I am here for it.
I’m lying here in our bed, listening.
“…and we don’t even have school tomorrow.”
“No school on Saturday or Sunday.”
“So, we could come to the game,” Lucy says hopefully.
There’s a pause before he gently says, “Saturday games are a little different.”
“How?”
“More people. More noise.”
Lucy thinks about that. “But we sit in the fish bowl thing.”
I smile faintly.
“The suite,” he corrects quietly.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“When school is in session, I think you should rest your brain, during school days, mein kleines Herz.”
Lucy goes quiet, and that is her version of unhappy. I am grateful she doesn’t throw tantrums. “But I like the games.”
“I know you do, and I love seeing you and Mommy there, but—"
“I missed you,” she says suddenly.
“I missed you, too,” he replies softly. “And I missed reading to you with your mom.”
He clears his throat and starts reading, but Lucy interrupts. “You have a game tonight.”
“I do.”
“And tomorrow.”
“Just practice…”
“Next week?”
“No games next week.”
“Why?”
“Some of the guys in the league will be playing for their countries in a tournament.”
“Like the Olympics?”
We’ve been watching them; she loves figure skating.
“Something like that.” He chuckles.
“Then we could watch a game together.”
“We could, the closest one is in Boston.”
“We can go there and watch a whole one?”
“A whole one.”
There’s a small pause followed by, “Why aren’t you playing for your country?”
“Germany doesn’t have a team in this tournament.”
Her voice rises in surprise. “No Germany?”
“No Germany. No Russia. No one except Canada, the U.S., Finland, and Sweden.”
“That’s rude,” Lucy declares.
He laughs quietly. “I’ll write them a letter.”
The book resumes.
A few minutes later, the hallway quiets, and I hear footsteps approach.
The door opens slowly, and Lenzin pauses when he sees me sitting up. “You’re awake.”
“I was eavesdropping.”
“That’s not surprising.”
He steps inside and closes the door quietly behind him.
“How long?”
“Long enough to hear you promise to write international hockey a strongly worded letter.”
A small smile pulls at his mouth. “My threats usually work, but in this case they will not.”
I study him for a moment. “You’re worried.”
“About Lucy.”
“And Anna,” I state.
“Yes.”
I nod. “She’s doing well. We text every day.”
He leans against the doorframe.
“How is she?”
“She asks me to send her a picture of my nose.”
He exhales a quiet laugh. “What?”
“She said she likes mine, and that now that everyone can afford nose jobs, everyone looks the same, so she’s considering upgrading hers.”
He scrubs a hand over his face.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”
He walks over and sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
Then he says softly, “She’s asleep.”
“Good.”
His eyes flick briefly to my stomach, then back to me.
“She asked if we could watch a game together next week.”
“You already said yes, don’t pretend you’re asking for my opinion.” He opens his mouth and closes it several times, so I decide to let him off the hook. “Koa and Hank are playing, right?”
“And Stone got the invite, too.”
I turn on my side, trying to get comfortable, “I agree with Lucy.”
He grins and, in a Lucy-like voice, says, “That’s rude.” Then he slides down and rolls to his side, facing me. “I like that it will be the three of us.”
“I will admit, I do too.”