Leo is already waiting at a booth in the back corner of the pub when I arrive.
The Minnesota Woodmen just won game two in the final round of the playoffs, evening the score to one for both teams. The mood in the pub is a mix between frustration, anger, and a small flutter of happiness from the few MW fans.
Having the home team lose at their own arena in their city sucks. This was their chance to come up with two before heading to Minnesota, but instead, they gave their advantage away.
Even though I’m a VW girl at heart, I can’t pretend like I didn’t scream a bit too loud when Leo scored the final goal and sealed the win for the Woodmen.
“Letty!” Leo calls from the booth. He’s standing now, waving his hand in the air as if the pub is too crowded for me to see him.
I sidestep a guy in a Bateman jersey with green paint all over his face when he falls off his stool and mumbles drunken words that I don’t understand.
He’s going to feel that in the morning. Along with a mountain of hockey-induced frustration.
Leo’s grin is cheek-splitting when I reach the booth. “Look at you. You’re glowing.” His arms are wrapped around me in seconds, squeezing me in a bear hug.
I roll my eyes and hug him back. “It’s sweat from how hot it is in here.”
He places a kiss to the side of my head. “I actually found it quite cold.”
“That’s because you’re a Woodman in a Warriors bar. I was expecting to find you pinned to the wall and being used as a dartboard.”
Leo pulls back, laughing that same belly-warming laugh that always seemed to free me from a losing-game funk. His soft brown eyes twinkle under the hanging lights above us.
He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him—maybe just a bit bulkier, considering the training regimen he has to follow. His hair is still that light blond colour that reminds me of wheat fields, and his dimples are still deep in his cheeks when he smiles.
“It’s safer for me here than at a bar celebrating the Woodmen win. At least here, everyone hates me too much to come ask for an autograph.”
I snort a laugh. “Good point.”
We both sit down, me on the bench opposite him. There are already waters on the table and a giant plate of nachos in the middle.
“I see you eyeing them up, and yes, they’re for the both of us,” he says. A smirk pulls at his mouth. “And Adam, of course.”
My skin heats. “Don’t start.”
“Start what? Poking you for information about your boss? I would never.”
I grab a bunch of loaded tortilla chips and shove them in my mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch Leo lean forward, looking like he’s getting ready to dig into a conversation I know will make me uncomfortable.
“I’m a bit offended that you haven’t mentioned Adam in any of our phone calls or texts since you started working at WIT. Then all of a sudden, I get a text asking if it’s okay that he comes to dinner? You threw me for a loop, Letty, and now you don’t want me to bug you about it? Nu-uh. Don’t think so.”
I swallow the nachos and take a drink of water before slowly setting the glass back down and meeting Leo’s stare. Despite his words, he doesn’t look upset. Just curious.
“Why don’t we start with catching up? Not talking about Adam.”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “Well, I’ve been playing hockey, working out, and sleeping. What have you been doing other than trying not to bang your stupid-hot boss and coaching a sixteen-year-old prodigy?”
“Okay. Point taken,” I grumble.
I’ve never been annoyed with how often Leo and I talk, but right now, I’m far beyond it.
He frowns. “Actually, tell me about your mom. Now that I think about it, you’ve been a bit sticky with me about that topic.”
Ice spreads through my chest. “She’s getting worse.”
“Shit, love. How much worse?”
“I’ve been looking at in-home caretakers for when I’m at work or doing anything, really. She’s been forgetting more and more. Two days ago, our neighbour found her standing on the curb wearing her nightgown and yelling at one of the teenagers in the house across the street, accusing him of sleeping around on her daughter.”
It was mortifying having to get home from work and apologize to everyone in the neighbourhood for the disruption, especially the teenager at the forefront of her wrath. He did look a lot like my high school boyfriend, Bradley, so I can see how she put two and two together to equal five.
It makes it worse that she doesn’t remember doing it. There’s nothing I can say or do to help her. She can’t just get better. This will never go away.
“It’s exhausting. And I feel guilty for having this . . . anger and frustration in my heart. It’s not like I’m the one suffering with the disease. What do I really have to complain about?”
Emotion burns behind my eyes when Leo reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. I tip my head back and blink to try and clear the film from my vision.
“You’re allowed to feel exactly how you are right now. Yes, it’s not you with the disease, but you’re suffering also. You’re watching your mother lose herself, knowing there isn’t anything you can do to stop it. Never feel like you can’t hurt too. You’re human, Scarlett, and humans feel. It’s our greatest gift and our worst punishment,” he murmurs.
“Fuck,” I whisper. A tear escapes before I quickly swipe it away. “You should have been a therapist.”
He squeezes my hand. “Nah. You’re one of the few people I care about enough to talk like this with. My sensitive side is very picky about who it shows itself to.”
“Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”
“You’re probably ri—shit,” he curses, something to the left of me catching his attention. Surprise flares in his eyes before he squeezes my hand once more and looks at me, releasing my hand. “Letty, your man is on his way over here, and from the venom in the glare he’s shooting me, I’m guessing he noticed your tears.”
“What?” I whip my head to the side and gasp at what I see.
My mouth goes dry—sand in the desert dry. Adam’s scowl does little to distract me from the rippling of his biceps beneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt or the bulging veins in his forearms as he jams his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans and clenches them.
Like that time in the grocery store, he’s wearing a hat on backward. Pieces of curly brown hair peek out beneath it and curl behind his ears and at the base of his neck. My fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to push his hat off and run through his hair.
By the time I grab hold of myself, he’s already standing at the table, towering over us. His eyes are no longer two angry pits of dark brown; they’re steaming cups of hot chocolate.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice tight with concern. My tongue lies limp in my mouth when he lifts my chin with his finger and presses it with his thumb. “You’re crying.”
“Hello to you too, Adam,” Leo sings.
Adam spins on him with wild eyes. “You do this?”
I reach out and press my palm to the rigid muscles of his jaw. Adam stills. “I wouldn’t have been sitting here if he had. I’m okay.”
He turns to me again, blinking. “Why were you crying?”
“Leo was letting me vent about what’s going on with my mom. We hit a sore spot.”
There’s no point in hiding it, nor do I really want to. Adam won’t judge me.
“Sweetheart,” he breathes. His eyes are focused again as he watches me.
“Sweetheart?” Leo echoes.
This time, both Adam and I turn to him.
“You’re going to get your ass beat,” I say.
“Adam wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t risk ruining all the work he did healing me all up after my injury.”
“I wasn’t talking about Adam.”
“Yes, I would.”
We speak at the same time.
Leo crosses his arms and grumbles, “Cute.”
“Wanna scoot over, or should I pull up a chair?” Adam asks me.
I instantly move to make room for him. He sits beside me, his large body taking up most of the bench. Our thighs are pressed together, arms brushing. My body is one giant spark.
“So, Adam. Who are you cheering for to win the cup?” Leo asks after taking a sip of his water.
Adam settles his arm on the back of the booth. His fingertips brush my shoulder.
“If it were any other team up against you, I think I would cheer for the Woodmen. Can’t betray my team, though.”
“Fair enough. Letty is the same, no matter how many times I try to convert her.”
Adam’s eyes beat into my cheeks. “Doesn’t surprise me. She’s about as headstrong as they get.”
“I’m right here,” I mumble. The plate of nachos in front of us looks cold, but I pick them apart and slip a few into my mouth anyway.
“How long have you two known each other?” Adam asks.
Leo answers for me. “Since co-ed. We were, what? Twelve?”
I nod. “Yep. Couldn’t get rid of him.”
“So rude, Scarlett.” Leo sighs dramatically.
An involuntary shiver works through me when Adam starts tracing patterns on my skin with his fingers. My stomach fills with flapping wings.
“How has it been working with my Letty?” Leo asks. I could smack him at the possessive claim. He’s trying to spark a reaction from Adam, and from the slight tensing of his body against mine, it’s worked.
“Scary Spice is the best trainer I have. She’s phenomenal at everything she does. I have yet to work with anyone who has half the coaching potential she does.”
The sincerity and awe in Adam’s words pull my attention. Our eyes meet, and a breath is pushed from my lungs. I’ve always wondered what it felt like to be looked at the way he’s looking at me right now.
Like I’m the only thing he sees.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
He gives me a half smile. “It’s the truth. Don’t thank me for that.”
“I don’t know where to start: Scary Spice or whatever the hell kind of connection just happened between you two,” Leo starts. He pokes the toe of his sneaker to my shin before standing up. “You know what we need? Shots. I did just win a damn playoff game, after all. Be right back.”
Leo takes off to the bar while I choke on a laugh. Adam grins and tucks a curl behind my ear. He leans close and says, “You look beautiful.”
“You look good too.”
His grin somehow grows. “You don’t plan on eating cold nachos all night, right? Let me get you something else.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty bad. The waitress hasn’t come around since I got here, though. Leo probably told her to leave us alone until we wanted to order something.”
He looks around the pub, most likely for the missing waitress. “I’m surprised he wanted to go out in public tonight. The glares coming at our table are a bit harsh.”
I catch one from an older guy wearing a Warriors practice jersey and smile dramatically at him. “Leo doesn’t care about stuff like that. He wouldn’t want to spend the night of a massive win stuck in his hotel room.”
“I can respect that. Oakley and Tyler are the same way.” Adam turns back to me, locking his eyes with mine. “What are you doing after this?”
I blink. “I was going to go home.”
“Is there anyone watching your mom?” he asks gently. His concern makes my chest swell.
“Mrs. McConnell is spending the night because I didn’t know how late I would be. She’s a sweet lady. I feel bad asking her to watch my mom, though. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been looking into getting the help of a professional.”
He cups my shoulder and brings me closer to his side, staring out at the pub. “How has that been going? If you need any help, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”
A small smile pulls at my mouth. “Thanks. It’s been going okay. I’m meeting a few potential caretakers next week.”
“You’re a good daughter, Scar. Don’t forget that.”
My conversation with Leo flies to the front of my mind. Everyone but me seems to think I’m doing the right thing and have a right to feel how I do. I just wish it was as easy to believe what they’re saying as it is to think they’re just trying to make me feel better.
“Who’s watching Cooper tonight?” I switch the subject.
“At Oakley and Ava’s. He’s sleeping over.” His words are deep rumbles.
“Oh.”
A heavy weight seems to settle between us. It’s almost like that by knowing neither one of us has a reason to go home early, a door has opened, leaving us contemplating shutting it or walking through.
“Yeah. I made sure my night was completely open,” he says softly.
God, my pulse is racing. What am I supposed to say to that? Shit, some of the things he says completely strip me of all my defenses.
“Good news, guys!” Leo shouts. I snap my eyes to him when he bounds toward us with a tray of shot glasses. “We’re going out tonight. I just got the details from my captain.” He drops the tray on the table and picks a shot up before shooting it back. “Hope you’re ready to celebrate pro-style.”
I risk a glance at Adam to find him already looking at me with soft, warm eyes. His calm energy helps to stifle the anxiety pumping through me.
“Looks like we found our plans,” he says.
