Chapter 10
HUDSON
I’m usually pretty strict about my diet but couldn’t say no to a trip to O’Neely’s. Their bacon blue burger and French fries hit different. It’s possibly the one spot in Cobbiton that I can tolerate. It’s not that this place is necessarily bad. More like the town made it clear that I wasn’t wanted.
Leah too.
Not that I want her. She’s out of my league with her striking good looks.
The woman turns heads wherever she goes and doesn’t even realize it.
Her eyes are mysterious, the laughter that comes out of her full lips could hypnotize a guy, and she’s a force of nature with her passion, ambition, and independence.
Not thoughts I should be having at my first official practice. I’m teamed up with Beau Hammer, the other goalie.
While we do rush save drills, I ask, “When you joined the Knights, did Badaszek have you do anything special?”
We’re not in full pads and protective gear so I have a clear view of his expression which remains blank. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
“Did Badaszek have you take any special classes or extra—?”
“Like ballet?” he asks, picking up what I’m putting down.
“Exactly.” Or ballet on ice skates.
Beau is typically steely-faced and stormy-eyed but makes a sound that I interpret as laughter.
“I take that as a no.”
Pierre slides toward us. “When it comes to Badaszek, trust the process even if it seems outlandish at first.”
I snort. “Says the guy who married his daughter.”
The other players nearby go still, quiet.
I hold up my hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just heard that you married the coach’s daughter, so you have an in with him but probably still don’t want to get on his bad side.”
Pierre grins. “For the first three months on the team, I only ever saw his bad side. Didn’t know there was another setting to his personality. And that was before I met Cara.”
“Everyone knows that the coach’s daughter is forbidden fruit,” Savage says.
Same as your brother’s best friend.
“He’ll have to tell you the sordid tale sometime,” Redd says.
“The romantic love story,” Pierre corrects.
I’ll admit that the Knights have commitment locked in.
Most of the guys are in serious relationships or married, which is a different landscape than I’m used to.
I’ve had a few girlfriends, but we always drifted apart.
Usually around the same time I’d have a Leah sighting at a game.
She never acknowledged me, so I assume she was cheering on the Knights and maybe hoping to glimpse Hunter.
But he’s never come to my games. Not a single one.
“Anyone special in your life?” Jack asks, spinning around and slapping the puck into the unguarded net.
I give a non-committal shrug.
He points his stick at me. “Word of warning. Badaszek has a zero drama policy.”
“He means no puck bunnies in the locker room,” Hayden says.
Grady adds, “Heidi and the coach are as thick as thieves. They’ll see to it that you both face public humiliation.”
“Sounds brutal.”
He shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
Vohn whistles for us to huddle up and goes over a few plays with us to fill out the last hour. When the clock runs out, everyone heads to the locker room except me. Vohn and Liam, the team captain, call me over for a word.
“You were decent out there,” Liam says, which is high praise coming from the defenseman.
“Thank you.”
Vohn, as steely-faced as ever, adds, “Less arm movement with your stick save off the post.”
I nod in affirmation.
“I understand you have a lesson coming up?” Liam asks, proving that I didn’t imagine the conversation with Badaszek in my living room. Nor did he forget about it.
Vohn refers to something on his clipboard and then checks his watch. “Should be here anytime.”
From somewhere in the arena, a metal door slams.
Liam and Vohn exchange a look.
The assistant coach says, “We’ll leave you to it.”
I skate to the boards behind them as Leah parades past, wearing a bright pink vest over a black shirt and leggings along with a Knights’ beanie hat.
She smiles and greets the guys. They talk for ninety seconds before she smiles again, laughs, and they move off. Anticipating her spotting me, I count down, not sure what to expect after our strange interaction at the Fish Bowl.
She’s already in her figure skates and nods at me as she passes through the half door and glides onto the ice, stopping a hockey stick’s length away. “You’re warmed up?”
I blink slowly as the words compute. Leah is my figure skating instructor? Well, then, this should be interesting.
“Hello to you, too.”
She lifts her eyebrows.
“Yes, I’m warmed up.” Why the animosity? Oh, right. She hated me and loved my brother for reasons I cannot fathom. By the hardness in her gaze, now is not the time to bring it up.
All the same, she has me do three laps, forward and backward crossovers, and then tells me to swizzle.
“You want me to what?” I ask, wondering if this is a trending viral dance move on social media.
“Swizzle,” she says flatly.
“I don’t swizzle, whatever that is.”
“Sure you do. I’ve seen you swizzle.”
“You’ve seen no such thing.” My tone sounds defensive.
She glides away from me and I’m pretty sure amusement “swizzles” in her eyes. Bending slightly at the hips as if she’s going to sit down, she slides forward, separating her skates like she’s drawing an oval and then bringing them back together in one smooth motion.
“Swizzle,” she says, like ordering a dog to heel.
Not one to back down from a challenge, I copy her motions and my hips instantly feel the strain. Whereas she colors inside the lines, I veer off the edge of the paper. I mean, it’s not that bad, but Leah is graceful, whereas I operate like an oaf.
This point is driven home over the course of the next thirty minutes while Leah teaches me figure skating basics as if I’m a troublesome child.
We take a water break and I watch as her throat bobs on a swallow.
She looks sharply at me. “What?”
“Didn’t expect this, that’s all,” I mutter, not upset that I was caught admiring her, but that her animosity toward me hasn’t dulled with time.
I detect a distinct chill between us, even though I’m sweating from the training.
We’re both quiet a beat, but like the nearly invisible ribbons carved into the ice, the past ties us together. She’s familiar yet no longer the teenager in the apartment next door.
“It’s weird being back in Cobbiton. I didn’t think—”
“You’d ever come back?” she finishes for me.
I nod rhythmically, then shake my head at the same pace. Truth be told, she’s the first person I’ve had this conversation with … and more beautiful than I remember. My water bottle hangs by my side.
“Everything seems the same, but I know that’s not entirely true.”
Something akin to curiosity appears on her features but disappears behind her closed-off mask when voices rise and fall from nearby.
She sets down the metal water bottle with a clang. “Sounds like we have company.”
“Not going to lie, I’m not keen on people knowing I’m taking figure skating lessons with you.” I realize how that sounds.
“Embarrassed by me?”
“I mean in general. This is not very manly.”
“Tell that to Olympians who—”
“There she is!” an older woman calls, stopping by the boards.
A shorter and rounder version of Leah, whom I recall as her sister, says, “Mami, you saw her this morning when she came and mooched coffee as if there aren’t a dozen coffee shops between her apartment and the Fish Bowl.”
“Valentina, it’s obvious she misses her mother.” Mrs. Smith smiles warmly, cups her daughter’s face, and kisses each cheek.
Leah pulls away as if she’s allergic to affection.
Mr. Smith harrumphs. “I thought it was just because she likes the way I make coffee. If you need coffee money—”
Mrs. Smith shakes her head dolefully. “My poor, single daughter lives in a slum. You don’t belong there, mijita.
We have to get you back to Cobbiton. Closer to home.
” Her gaze slides to me, but not as if she only just noticed that I’m here, more like she’s making sure the wild animal has a slab of meat before entering the cage. “There he is.”
I brace myself.
Color that’s not from skating rises to Leah’s cheeks. “Are we really doing this?”
Her sister nods. “I’m afraid so.”
“Hunter!” Mrs. Smith exclaims.
“Actually—” I start to correct.
“Hudson,” Leah says to me or her mother, I’m not sure. If it’s to me, I get the sense she’s forbidding me from speaking. If she’s addressing her mother, it’s an understandable correction since we’re twins.
Valentina arches an eyebrow. “Oh, the rogue brother.”
“The rake,” Leah says.
“Rogues, rakes. What’s the difference?” her sister says as if there isn’t one.
Leah lifts a finger. “Actually—”
Mrs. Smith laughs blithely. “Twin brothers. Same thing as far as I’m concerned. I could never tell you two apart.”
“That’s because you mostly saw Hunter. They’re quite distinct.” Leah cuts a glance at me.
Leaning on my stick, I lift my eyebrows, surprised she noticed.
Valentina tilts her head to the side. “On second glance, you’re right. Hunter was so scrawny. This one is definitely better looking. Not that I’ve seen Hunter in years.”
None of us have.
“Mmm. Those dark eyes,” Mrs. Smith says dreamily.
“And the chiseled jawline with a nice brush of stubble.” Valentina’s hand drifts to her chin, gaze so far away, she may as well be in another country. For all I know, my brother may be.
As if transfixed, they circle me slowly, looking me up and down. I half expect Mrs. Smith to ask to examine my teeth. That’s a story Leah can tell.
Valentina nods. “Tall.”
“Strong.” Mrs. Smith squeezes my biceps.
“Thick brown hair.”
“Dark eyelashes.”
They smile and nod in approval.
My ego enjoys this boost. However, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. He’s still hockey’s pretty boy, but this isn’t a dog show where you assess his pedigree.” Leah shoots me a dirty look.
We all turn to her.
Her cheeks match my Knights’ practice jersey. “What? It’s not just my opinion. Talk to his one-point-two-million social media followers. It’s safe to assume that not all of them are solely hockey fans.”
“Hudson fans,” Mrs. Smith says.
“I agree. He’s quite handsome.” Valentina lets out a long sigh.
“Like a human specimen.”
“Are you objectifying him?” I’m surprised Leah comes to my defense.
“It’s objectively true.” Valentina stares flatly at her sister.
“But his personality is certainly lacking.”
My lips part, but I wonder just how far I’ll get arguing on my own behalf. I glance at Mr. Smith, desperate for an assist.
He shrugs as if to say, Get used to it, kid. This is the way they are.
Mrs. Smith asks, “Is he single?”
Leah’s eyes bulge. “Mami!”
“This is important information. Abuela had a ‘Chosen One’ dream and he fits the description.”
Leah shakes her head and huffs. “She had a ‘Chosen One’ dream about me and my future spouse?”
Her mother nods without a hint of irony or humor.
Leah rolls her eyes. “It’s a bunch of nonsense.”
They all turn to me, awaiting a response.
Shifting in my skates, I say, “Yes, I’m single.”
If I’m not mistaken, Leah snarls at me but the Zamboni engine fires up, signaling open ice time is over.
“Well, that’s perfect,” Mrs. Smith says.
The obvious question is why is it perfect that I’m single? But I don’t dare speak unless spoken to. These women make me feel like a ten-year-old facing down league players. Back then, I hadn’t yet gotten the hit of testosterone and hubris to think I stood a chance.
“So, you’re not dating anyone?” Mrs. Smith asks.
“No, ma’am. At the moment, I’m getting used to the new team, preparing for the season, and intending to give my all.” I flash my best press-ready smile.
Leah nods, whether in approval because I’m presenting myself as an asset to her beloved team or for another reason, I’m not sure.
“Any health concerns, ailments, or injuries we should be aware of?”
Mercifully, Leah interrupts the cattle market evaluation. “Guys, what are you doing here?”
“We came to watch you skate,” Mr. Smith says.
“How’d you know I was—?”
To her daughter, Mrs. Smith says, “We saw Jess at the bakery while I was placing my order for the party and she mentioned you’re giving skating lessons. This was news to me.”
“It’s a recent development.” By the way Leah grinds her teeth together, I gather it’ll be a short-lived endeavor.
Not that I’m complaining. While I don’t mind reconnecting, figure skating isn’t at the top of my list for how to spend my time.
Least of all with a woman who so obviously barely tolerates me.
Mrs. Smith opens her hands toward the rink. “I wanted to see my bonita in action.”
Leah eyes her sister as if also looking for a lifeline, but the Zamboni, slowly trundling toward us to clean up the ice, provides an out.
“Chuck told me you were here,” Valentina says simply.
“But Heidi is the one who—” Leah shakes her head as if it’s no use.
Word travels fast in a small town which likely means everyone also knows who her student is. I’m surprised we don’t have an audience.
Leah takes off her skates and I edge toward the locker room, not sure whether I’m dismissed.
Mrs. Smith says, “Remember when I would make your program costumes? Such a long time ago. I still have all of them. We can put them in the hockey museum.”
“Sounds great. Let’s talk about this later. We’ve cut into Hudson’s class time. Coach Badaszek wants him in top form.”
I wanted to think I already was, but I’m not about to argue. This also means she’s not canceling all future practices.
In a low voice, Mr. Smith says to me, “Apologies for the mother-daughter matchmaking experience.”
Mrs. Smith’s expression glazes over for a moment and then a certain smile that I can’t quite identify widens on her face. She claps her hands together. “Well, this is perfect. Abuela will be so pleased.”
“Mami ...” Leah says, half warning and half stone-cold fear.
Turning to me, the matriarch says, “Hudson, we cordially invite you to our anniversary party.”
At least the Smiths still try to keep the town lively with parties—this will be my first, even though we were longtime neighbors. “Thank you. I’d be delighted.”
“And he has manners,” Valentina quips.
I ask, “Can I bring anything?”
“Just that handsome smile. You’ll fit right in.” Mrs. Smith practically hops as she tries to kiss me on each cheek and then does the same to her daughter.
I had to lean over considerably and realize this is not the side of the family Leah got her height from.
She says, “Leah will share the details.”
The detail I get is that she wants to slap someone, namely me. But this is just a case of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Smiths were looking for the other brother, not that Hunter is at all good enough for their beloved daughter.