3. Hudson

3

HUDSON

Chaos. That’s all there is surrounding me. Pure, unfiltered fucking chaos. Complete with a bouncy house and a whole-ass petting zoo. No, really, an actual zoo. Imagine my surprise when I walked into Reed’s mansion this afternoon and saw a fucking goat looking at me all funny.

There’s a miniature cow, a herd of baby goats, a couple of sheep, and this little baby pig that keeps squealing like it’s stuck the second one of the kids manages to catch it. All of the animals are secured behind a rickety-ass wire fence with a drove of toddlers all fighting to get as close as they possibly can to them.

Without a doubt, this was Holland’s idea, and as usual, Reed went along with it because that’s just who he is. The guy would give her anything, including his balls in a handbasket, if she asked for them.

“This is fucking wild,” Reed mutters, taking in the sight in front of him. It’s like Survival of the Fittest—toddler edition. I’m pretty sure someone is going to end up with an elbow to the face and a black eye as a trophy.

A chuckle rumbles through my chest as I take it all in, shaking my head. As wild as it is, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. With my brothers and their families that have become my own along the way. I love these wild-ass kids.

Just as the thought enters my mind, Evan runs past me, with Alex and Olive both chasing after him, giggling.

There’s a part of me that can’t even believe that it’s his eighth birthday. It feels like just yesterday, Reed was getting the call, and suddenly, Evan was the center of all of our lives. I’ve watched him grow from a quiet toddler into a mini version of my best friend, and it makes my chest swell with pride. This is my nephew. Even if we’re not joined by blood, we have all loved this kid like he was ours since the very first day.

Time is fucking flying. It feels like every time I blink, there’s another kid being born. Someone getting married. Moving away. New teammates. Everything’s changing before I even realize that it has.

“Which part? The fact that you have a full-blown zoo in your backyard or the fact that your kid is practically a teenager?” I ask him.

Reed shakes his head, his dark hair falling in his face, but it doesn’t cover the way that his eyes soften. “Nah, don’t do that shit to me. He’s still got a few years. I can’t even think about that yet.”

“Yeah, remember what you were like when you hit puberty?” Briggs asks. He’s standing beside me with Dexter, his youngest, slumped against his chest and snoring slightly. There’s a small spot of drool crusted on the corner of his parted lips.

How the kid can sleep with the commotion going on around us is beyond me, but if there’s one thing that I’ve learned about kids, it’s that they are resilient. A lot of times, more than us adults are.

“Fuck yeah I do, which is why I am not looking forward to it. Plus, I just want to keep him little, man. No one tells you how hard it will be to watch them grow up. Part of you wants to hold on just a little bit longer, and the other part can’t wait to see the person they become,” Reed says, his eyes glittering as Evan runs around his party, a toothless grin on his lips.

Asher nods. “I feel this. Just watching all of your kids and Alex grow up. Bittersweet kinda feeling.”

The same familiar ache that’s been heavy on my chest for weeks, maybe even months, spreads within my rib cage, and I sigh, bringing the water bottle to my lips and draining it in a single gulp.

“Reed?” Holland squeaks from the cotton candy stand, where she’s admittedly looking a bit frazzled at the crowd of kids in front of her. Her long, honey hair is now swept into a messy bun on the top of her head, and she’s got a smear of something dark brown and crusty on her face that I’m really hoping is cupcake icing.

“Be right back. Gotta go save my wife from toddler eat toddler,” Reed jokes, then jogs over to her, leaving Asher, Briggs, and I alone.

Chaney barrels toward us, a toddler hot on his heels, a look of pure terror in his eyes. “Fuck, save me!” he hisses as the kid giggles and tries to latch onto his leg. He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Literally, help me. I can’t do this shit. What do I do with it?”

His eyes widen in fear as his gaze drops down to the giggling little girl currently wrapped around his leg like a spider monkey.

“Nah, everyone does their time. You got this.” Briggs grins.

All three of us share a knowing smile because man, did we do the fucking time. I can’t tell you how many diapers I’ve changed, or how many times I pulled unknown “objects” from underneath my couch after Evan and Olive stayed over at the apartment with Graham, Asher, and me. Every single one of us has been the fun uncle at one point in time, most of us many times over.

“Please,” he pleads, his voice breaking slightly as the little girl squeezes harder and nestles into the fabric of his pant leg. He shakes his leg as if he’s trying to shake off a bug or a small animal.

Taking mercy on the panicked rookie, I squat down, getting eye to eye with the little girl, and whisper conspiratorially, “You know they have ice cream over there?”

When that gets her attention, I lean in even closer and whisper like it’s the best-kept secret in the entire town. “Chocolate ice cream.”

One arm loosens.

“With sprinkles.”

Suddenly, she lets go of Chaney’s leg and squeals, darting off toward the cake and ice cream table.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters as his entire body shudders. “I need a beer. I don’t know how you do this. I’ll never be a father, ever. Kids are not my thing.”

Asher laughs. “Yeah, pretty sure we’ve all said that, rookie. Better wrap it before you tap it.”

My gaze drifts out across the party again, taking in all of the screaming kids, the sound of gleeful laughter, and back again to the fact that I can’t seem to shake the heaviness I’ve been feeling. If anything, it’s gotten increasingly worse, and I don’t know what the hell is going on.

“You’re quiet today,” Briggs says, pulling me from my thoughts. When I glance up, they’re all looking at me curiously. “Unusually quiet.”

Chaney’s eyebrows raise, “He’s still thinking about his mystery girl that rocked his world in the broom closet at the party. Dude’s got it bad for the girl, and he doesn’t even know her name.”

I scowl at him, narrowing my gaze. Dickhead.

It’s been three weeks since that night, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. I can’t fucking stop thinking about her, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

She wanted one night, and she made that shit abundantly clear when she left me with my dick hanging out of my pants and her panties still damp in my pocket.

All I know is that she was fucking incredible and that I want more than that one night, but I have nothing to go on to find her. Not her name, where she’s from. Nothing.

“Fuck off,” I mutter but don’t deny it. There’s no point lying about it, not to the guys who know me better than I know myself sometimes.

“What did I miss?” Reed cuts in as he walks back up. He’s sweating, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, looking like he just ran a marathon. Guess he sorta did, chasing after those kids.

It appears the kids have moved on from cake and ice cream and are now partaking in pony rides, with Evan currently riding on a bedazzled birthday pony.

“Hudson’s got it bad for the girl that ghosted him while his pants were still down,” Asher says, smirking.

I swear, these fuckers. I’ll never live this shit down.

Reed’s eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head. “Ouch. I thought you had moved on from your Romeo and Juliet tryst.”

“Y’all are fuckers. I am over it. It wasn’t a big deal, and you’re all making it a big deal.”

“Yeah, ooookay,” Chaney says with a shrug. “Except you’ve been all moody since that night, so obviously, you’re not over it even though you’re saying that you are.”

“Exactly,” Briggs adds. Dexter sighs sleepily in his arms as he drops a light kiss to his sleeping son’s head.

“Look, it’s just like… I dunno, I felt… alive. For the first time in a long time, I felt like more. She was funny as hell, beautiful, just the whole damn package, and I feel like an idiot for not getting her real name or her number. She made me… I don’t know. It’s stupid.” I shake my head. “Just forget it.”

“Nah, man, it’s not stupid. I get it,” Reed says. “She was unexpected, and it took you by surprise.”

“It’s like I feel like I’m fucking stuck in this never-ending cycle. I play hockey, I go to bars, I spend time with my family, but I just feel like, what’s the point? Who am I outside of hockey? What does it matter at the end of the day? What happens when hockey is over for me? What happens when an injury puts me out for an entire season? The league wouldn’t take me back after that shit, not with my age. It doesn’t matter how good my stats are.” I pause, dragging my hand over my face, the emotion of the last few weeks spilling out. “You guys have families. Wives. If it all ended for you, you have the rest of your lives to look forward to with them. Me? I have nothing. I have an empty house. Meaningless hookups with girls I never see again. I just feel like I want more, and I don’t even know where to start.” I take a breath when I finish.

It all kind of just spilled out of me, these questions that have been flitting through my head over the last few weeks, especially after the night with my mystery Juliet. Try as I fucking might, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

She made me question shit.

She made me think about what could have been.

The “what-if.”

Not just her… hockey. My life.

That night in a dusty closet changed things for me.

Do I want to continue to live an empty life of what-ifs?

“You know what? You remember before I met Mads, how fucking lost I was? All that shit with my brother. I was two seconds from being benched permanently,” Briggs says, holding my gaze.

I nod. Of course I remember it.

It was pure agony watching Briggs go through that shit. He walked in on his fiancée in bed with his brother, and now they’re married with a child together. When it happened, he fell into a hole so deep even we couldn’t pull him out.

“I think the only thing that truly made a difference, the only thing that saved me, was when I was coaching the kids at Face-Off. I needed to take a step back, and it helped to give back and do something for someone else. I was lost, and getting out of my own head, spending time with them… it was better than any shrink could’ve ever been for me. You could try to reach out, see if they need anyone.”

Me? Coaching kids?

“Yeah, I mean, you’re good with our kids. You’re their favorite uncle—don’t tell Graham, or I’ll never hear the end of it. But it might be a good place to start while you’re figuring things out. And Hudson… It’s not a bad thing to be thinking about the future and what it means for you. Even if it seems hazy right now, I have no doubt that you’ll figure it out. Just like we did,” Asher says, clapping me on the back. “You’d be great with those kids. You’ve got more patience than any of us combined.”

Reed nods in agreement. “I think you’d be great at it, brother. Asher’s right. You’ve got the patience of a saint. Way more than I do, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chaney adds.

“That’s because you’re emotionally still a toddler, Chaney,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t want to bring my shit into coaching, and who knows if I’d even be good at that shit? I don’t know if I want to be in charge of a group of kids, and I couldn’t be around as much during the season. It all seems like a fuck ton of responsibility.”

“It is,” Briggs says, pausing to check on Dexter, who has stirred slightly in his arms. “But seeing the smile on their faces when they finally nail a shot or the first goal they score after practicing all week… it does something to you. Trust me, okay? Just check it out, see what you think before you commit. Listen, you’re our brother for life, hockey or not, and you know it. We’re not going anywhere, and we’ll be here to help you figure out your shit.”

“Time for presents!” Holland calls across the yard, and the kids go running. I guess that’s our cue.

For the rest of the party, I’m lost in thought about what the guys said, and even though I shouldn’t, I think of Juliet.

And the what-ifs.

* * *

I spendthe rest of the weekend watching baseball on the couch and only leave the house to have Sunday dinner with my family. When I brought up volunteering to coach at dinner, my parents and my sister insisted that I do it.

Although they don’t know about my Juliet or everything really going on in my head, they said that it was a great idea and ultimately why I had my agent reach out to Face-Off first thing Monday morning. Even though we’ve done a few events with the organization as a team before, I hadn’t ever worked with them one-on-one. I didn’t know what to expect when my agent called back and let me know that he had set up a meeting for the following morning.

Briggs said that those kids saved his life in a way that I couldn’t imagine, and thinking back to the shit that he went through, I know how rough he had it. Thank fuck he found Maddison and ended up where he should be, but my best friend fought his way back from hell. And he says he owes it all to these kids and this organization for pulling him out of the darkest place of his life. For helping him heal and be a better man.

That’s enough for me, and who knows? Maybe coaching these kids will change me too. I want that feeling. The one where it feels like I have a fucking purpose and a path because right now, I feel like I’m wandering aimlessly in circles with no end in sight.

“Hudson Rome?” I glance up to see a short woman with a black T-shirt that reads Face-Off on it striding toward me, a warm smile plastered on her face. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a clip, and she’s got a huge stack of folders and a clipboard in her arms, but it doesn’t seem to be slowing her down.

Nodding, I extend my hand toward her. “Hi, yes, I’m Hudson.”

We quickly shake hands, and she smiles up at me, “I’m Laura Atkins, and I’m so glad you’re here. When your agent reached out to me, I was ecstatic because we could totally use the help. We’re organizing a few big events for the year, and it’s a bit overwhelming. In the best way, of course.”

The way she says it isn’t negative at all, more gracious that she’s able to organize it in the first place.

I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. For the first time in a long time, I find myself nervous but looking forward to what’s to come. Excitement strums through my chest.

“I’m happy to be here. Briggs is like my brother, and he speaks so highly of your organization that it was a no-brainer to reach out and see if you guys wanted any help.”

“Trust me, the kids are going to lose their minds when they find out they’re meeting Hudson Rome. I’m sure you already know that you’re a lot of these kids’ favorite player.”

That makes me feel good. A foreign feeling erupts in the pit of my stomach. Something that makes me proud.

It’s nice to hear something like that instead of another backhanded comment about my reputation from whatever gossip site they’ve read.

The Playboy Playmaker, can’t take shit seriously, bad boy of the NHL reputation. The one that feels more damning by the second. A reputation that I used to revel in, and now I can’t get away from if it killed me.

“You had more saves than any goalie in the entire league last season. And that shutout against the Rangers? Iconic.”

Relief immediately floods me that my reputation as an athlete is what matters here. “Thanks. That was a really good game.”

“For sure. Uh, I need to drop these off at my office really quickly, then I’d love to give you a tour of the facility and get you squared away with your team and a loose schedule?”

“Perfect.”

She smiles enthusiastically and turns on her heel, motioning for me to follow behind her. As we walk toward the end of the hallway, I notice all of the photos that line the walls. I end up trailing a ways behind while looking, and suddenly she’s next to me.

“That’s Mason Rice. He’s up for the Entry Draft this year, and we’re so proud to have watched him become this incredible player. That’s why we do this. We meet these amazing kids who don’t have the financial means to play hockey, whether it be because they’re in the foster care system or because they’re living with a relative or even because they qualify for low-income subsidizing. We make it happen, and we give them an outlet. All they want is for someone to believe in them and to give them a chance.”

This place is something I can stand behind, without a doubt. Just from hearing her talk about it, admiration shining in her eyes, it seems like a program that I want to be involved in.

“Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it,” I tell her sincerely.

And fuck, do I mean it. I’ve only been here for a few minutes, and I already feel like I have a purpose in being here.

“C’mon, let’s get you ready to go, Coach Rome.”

After spending twenty minutes touring their facility and meeting a few of the other coaches and staff, we walk back to Laura’s office, and I take a seat in the worn chair across from her desk.

Despite the volume of folders that are on it, everything is neat and tidy and seems to be organized.

“So, what do you think?” she says, leaning back in her chair, a teasing smirk on her lips.

I think that maybe Briggs was onto something. That this place is exactly what I was missing, and maybe it’s too early to tell, but for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward instead of backwards.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Leaning forward, she pulls a dark blue folder off her desk and opens it, turning it toward me. “Well, I know when Mr. Wilson volunteered, he had the U8 kids, but right now, we’re full for the younger age brackets. So, you’d be coaching the U14 kids. I know you’ll have less availability once the season starts too, so we’ll also partner you with an assistant coach to help out when you’re away for the NHL.”

Shit. Teenagers? What the hell do I know about teenagers?

My eyes lift to hers. “Should I be scared?”

Laura laughs, shaking her head. “They’re great kids. Some of them have a pretty hard exterior that might take a while to break through, but they’re still amazing kids with so much talent. You’ll be surprised how good some of these guys are.”

I nod, chewing my lip in contemplation.

Can I coach a bunch of fourteen-year-old boys? I barely know anything about kids in general, let alone hormone-infested boys who think they’re men.

“Give it a chance, Hudson. All these kids want is someone who won’t give up on them.”

I may not know shit about kids, but what I do know is that since walking into this building, I’ve felt lighter than I have in months.

“Let’s go meet my team, then.”