Chapter 35
HUDSON
After my failed proposal, publicly asking Leah to go to the Cobbiton Hockey HoCo with me was a bold, audacious move, but she said yes.
And it paid off because even though I had fun at the original high school homecoming, the girl I went with made out with my brother later that night. Claimed she got us mixed up.
Leah was left alone.
Me too.
This time is different.
The social media chatter about why I’d ask my fiancé to go to a team dance was overshadowed by how adorable my sign was. Supposedly, hockey homecoming dances are trending now.
Not that I pay much attention to these things because Leah has all of it—except while I’m on the ice during a vital game for playoff potential against the St. Louis Liberators, who’re proving to be a worthy contender this year.
Their center is fresh off recovery from a groin injury and a new pair of forwards makes us all up our game.
In the locker room, Liam repeatedly tells us not to get lazy.
Then, just as we’re about to start the game, he hollers.
“Forget what I told you. I want a double shot of espresso energy. Be like a pack of kids who just ate an entire birthday cake. You’re puppies in the snow for the first time. Bring it!”
And we do. Our defense doesn’t let the opposition’s front line cross the blue, keeping the puck squarely near the Liberator’s net.
They don’t break free before Jack gets the puck, slaps it to Liam, who sends it to Redd.
He scores a goal between the knees. We rule during the first period and get slippery during the second when Beau lets them score before I’m swapped in during the final twenty minutes.
Keeping pace with our other goalie, they score again, then our guys come back with a vengeance.
I block three pucks with the remaining time on the clock, leaving a sizable gap.
Afterward, Liam speeds through the re-captain, Badaszek and Vohn limit their locker room meeting, and the rest of us hurry through showering because tonight is the CoHoHoCo and we won the game, making it extra sweet.
By the time I emerge from the locker room, I’ve inhaled at least a metric ton of cologne, but am fresh and in a suit. My gaze instantly finds Leah, waiting with the other women—all dressed in sparkly, shiny, shimmery, silky gowns.
She stands out like a wildflower in a field. My breath catches when she spots me across the room, frozen in place because of how remarkably beautiful she is. I can only imagine our wedding day, words that would’ve seemed like a foreign language a few months ago.
Let’s hope we make it that far. It seems like she’s leaning in that direction, but I’m afraid if I ask her point-blank, she’ll retreat.
She glows in her gown with her hair swept to the side and long, gold dangling earrings hanging from her ears. Her lashes are dark, her lips are full … and I am staring as I stride across the room.
When I reach her, she asks, “What?”
“You look like—”
She peers down at her feet and then up at me, eyes pinched but mouth in a snarl. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Say it. Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Say what?”
“That I look like a freak. I wasn’t going to wear high heels, but the girls insisted.”
“Leah, you look—” I shake my head. “There’s a moment in every hockey player’s life when the shiniest, most beautiful thing they can imagine is the Stanley Cup. But you are dazzling.”
“You’re comparing me to a trophy?”
“Arguably the most coveted trophy in the world.” Fueled by post-win mojo, but speaking the truth, I lean in and whisper.
“It’s engraved with hundreds of names. The only one I want you to have is mine.
Leah, you are devastatingly gorgeous, and except for the married men inside that party, they’re all going to be drooling over you.
” I wipe the edge of my mouth as a precaution.
She blinks like the words slowly sink in, replacing the ones she’s told herself. Lifting her chin, the corner of her lip curls. “You didn’t have to say that. I still would’ve gone with you.”
“I said it because I mean it and it’s true.” I jut my elbow for her to take and we make our grand entrance to the Cobbiton Hockey Homecoming dance.
“The enchanted masquerade ball is very fitting, considering it’s almost Halloween,” I say.
“Margo is amazing.”
“This almost feels like a warm-up for our wedding.”
She sneaks a peek in my direction. “You do look dapper, dressed in a suit.”
My spine lengthens slightly. “You think so?”
“Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”
“Well, yeah. I showed up at zero dark thirty practice too many times with my shirt backward to not look in the mirror before I leave my house.”
“Then you know what I’m talking about.”
I pause. “Leah, did you just pay me a compliment?”
She turns to face me and her eyes find mine. Behind her black masquerade mask with feathers and sequins, her eyes sparkle. “Yes, I did.”
Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Not because she thinks I’m good-looking, but because she’s telling me how she feels rather than bottling it up inside.
“Thank you.”
Arm linked in mine, we wander over to the refreshments table.
“Who do you think is next to get married?” Leah asks, gazing at the crowd.
“Us.”
“Besides us.”
“There are eleven guys who regularly get dressed for games who’re single. Could be any of them. Why?”
Leah shrugs. “Because I didn’t think it would be me.”
“You’re not on the team.”
“I mean you and me.”
“We’ve established that.”
Once more, she turns to me, expression imploring. “I just didn’t think I’d actually marry a Knight.”
“That’s what you wanted, right?” Is she saying she wants this or does she want to be with someone else? Did she change her mind? Then again, it’s like we’ve just been drifting toward this rather than making a decisive choice.
“I follow some influencers online who talk about the power of gratitude and positive thinking. I have the first one nailed down. The second one, well, I’ll say positive things, then hear another story in my head.
I want good things in my life but don’t always believe they’ll come my way.
I tried to figure out why and then realized I’ve been sabotaging myself in subtle ways.
” She looks at the floor and then up at me.
I follow what she’s saying but bring it to the point. “Leah, are you saying I’m a good thing?”
She wears a Cheshire cat grin.
Sweeping her onto the dancefloor, I say, “I like this. Keep the honesty and the compliments coming.”
I start moving to an upbeat song and her eyes brighten. “You can dance?”
Busting a move, I answer, “I lived in Miami for three years. Of course I can.”
“Maybe Abuela was right.”
“Not maybe. I’m certain she was.”
Leah clicks her tongue, scolding me for being so haughty, and then dances right alongside me. I’m still high from the win against the Liberators and have surpassed cloud nine watching her swing her hips, sway from side to side, and move so close to me I can almost feel her soft breath.
If this is what life is like with Leah Smith, I’m going to marry the heck out of her.
The next morning, I take an ice bath, and not because dancing with Leah set me on fire. It did, but I’m also sore from the game and have to keep my stamina because we’re getting married tomorrow.
I am marrying Leah Maria Smith tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I hardly believe it’s real—if all goes well. What would Hunter think? My mother? I almost don’t want to know. It’s safe to say he’d call me an idiot and my mother would warn me against marriage. She’s on her fifth, last I heard.
After leaving the PT room at the Ice Palace, I cruise into Omaha. I haven’t heard back from Leah and I’m assuming she slept in after the late night at HoCo, but she’s going to need my muscle.
Parking next to half of a mattress, a rocking horse without legs, and three overflowing trash bins on Graves Street, I call her when she doesn’t reply to my text.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Hello?” she asks, voice scratchy.
“Your Knight in muscly armor is here to do your bidding.”
“Who?”
“Leah, it’s me. Hudson. It’s moving day.”
She hangs up.
I get out of my truck, double-check that it’s locked, slide past the guy sleeping in the stairwell who looks like he was mauled by a pack of badgers, and walk up the four flights of stairs.
I only know she lives on the top floor because she teased Jack when he was complaining about doing stairs as part of one of our dryland workouts.
There are four doors, and I listen carefully.
Door number one has a sign with the warning: Beware of the Dog.
She mentioned she wasn’t in the market for pets, so I doubt this is the one I’m supposed to knock on.
A baby cries behind the second one. There’s no telling her roommates’ ages, but I don’t think she shares space with an infant.
That leaves two. Before I can make a guess, one of the doors flies open.
Leah has a toothbrush in her hand and drags me through the entry, before peering out and then slamming the door behind us.
Gripping my hand, she hurries down the hall and pushes me into her room, though I could hardly call it that. More like a closet.
“Everything okay?”
She gives me the one-minute signal, turns around, spits into a cup, and then rinses her mouth.
“Do I need to kick someone out of the bathroom?”
“Shh. Keep it down. Inside voice. No, I don’t bring my toothbrush in there. It’s a hazmat zone,” she whispers.
“We are getting you out of here.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going through with this marriage because you take pity on my living conditions,” she whisper shouts.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know full well you could live in a veritable mansion on Stowells Street. You’re too stubborn.”
“Careful, Robo. Those are fighting words.”
I cut my eyes at her.
“Also, keep it down. We don’t want Lloyd to hear you. He’s grumpy in the morning.”
“Is that the guy who’s snoring, the one who rang the gong, or the couple who was fighting with the door open? I find it hard to believe any of them will lodge a noise complaint. This entire building would be written up.”
Leah huffs and mutters something about Julius Cheeser.
“Did I sleep through our wedding? Why are you here to help me move today?”
“Because I’ll be gone on Monday.”
“That’s why I have family members who drive trucks.”
“You asked me to help you clean your room, though I’d hardly call this a room. More like a cubby or a pod.”
“Don’t pick on me. I’m doing the best I can.”
Gripping her arms, I hold her eyes on mine. “And together, we can do better.”
“You mean you don’t want to face Chuck or Jack’s wrath if anything happens to me.”
“Trust me, my own would be far worse. Anyway, it’s Abuela who strikes fear in my heart.”
She tips her head from side to side and laughter dances in her eyes. “That tracks.”
Looking around at piles of stuff half-organized in rolling shelves, bins, tubs, and crates, I say, “You have a lot of stuff.”
“Most of it is in my parents’ basement under the bunk beds. Hudson, I have a lot of stuff and tend to accumulate, acquire clutter, and have the best intentions to get organized, but I know that you’re the opposite and—”
“And that’s why you asked me to help you clean your room. It’s also worth pointing out that you don’t need to change unless you want to. What if you’re great the way you are?”
She shrugs.
“Maybe lean into your strengths instead of looking at what you perceive as deficiencies.”
“That’s wise.”
“Blame Badaszek.”
“Or thank him,” she says as we start packing.
When we’ve brought the last load downstairs, I ask, “Why’d you hang up on me when I called earlier?”
“Because I hadn’t even brushed my teeth or hair. Morning Leah isn’t a pretty sight.”
“I beg to differ.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and drop a kiss on her forehead.
With a little shiver of delight, she smiles.