33. leo
THIRTY-THREE
leo
“ S he was lucky not to have more injuries. She’s going to be okay, but her ankle’s pretty banged up,” the nurse says as we approach Tina’s room in the ER. She lies in bed, a bruise blooming across her cheek, her right ankle in a cast.
We sit on sterile plastic chairs in a beige waiting area outside her room, where nurses and doctors circle around us. A doctor finally stops, looking up briefly from the patient records he’s viewing on his tablet. “You’re waiting for news about Tina? We’re keeping her overnight for observation. She won’t be able to put weight on that ankle for quite some time. Does she have family who can care for her?”
“Just me,” I say.
“And did she tell you what happened?”
“Told me she clipped somebody’s mailbox, then crashed into that crabapple tree she’s always complaining about.” I don’t ask whether alcohol was involved—I don’t need to. The signs are all there, and I know better than to ask a question I already know the answer to. I move out of the way for a nurse pushing a patient’s wheelchair down the hall. “How long will her recovery take?”
He shakes his head. “Hard to say. Once she’s discharged, she’ll need some support at home,” the doctor replies. “Are you her next of kin?”
My lips press together. “Sort of.” I stop short of explaining the complications of our relationship. I’ve avoided acknowledging it for so long—pushed it into a corner of my life, and now, here it is, forcing its way back in.
I glance into Tina’s room, where she sleeps soundly, and wonder what I’m supposed to do. Why is this my responsibility when she made the choice not to take responsibility for herself?
“You don’t have to stay the night,” the doctor says. “The medicine we gave her will allow her to rest tonight. Might be best if you go home and get some sleep before she’s released in the morning.”
He leaves us alone, and I turn and lean my head against the wall, already feeling defeated. This was supposed to be our last special night together... and now this.
“I’m so sorry, Leo,” Victoria says. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head. “If she needs help, I can’t just ignore it. But the timing is terrible since I just started playing again.”
Victoria hesitates for a beat. “I won’t go to Seattle right now. I’ll tell Peter no, and we’ll handle this together—until things are in a better place for you.”
“No,” I say firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” she asks, frowning. “You don’t think I can help you?”
I turn to face her. “Because if you don’t take this opportunity with Peter, it will never come again. He’s one of the best, Victoria, you know that. He won’t wait for a month, and you’re already behind.”
She crosses her arms. “So that’s it? You get to make sacrifices for everyone else, but I don’t ? We’re supposed to be a team, Leo.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “This isn’t about fairness. It’s about what’s right for you and your future. You’ve worked too hard for this dream to let it slip through your fingers now.”
“And what about us?” she asks.
“I’ll be here with Tina, and once she’s better, I’ll come up with a plan,” I say. “But you have to go now. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if you’d taken the chance.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel right going to Seattle and leaving you alone to care for Tina. Peter will have to find another partner.”
I stare at her. “I can’t let you do that.”
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “You’re doing the same—if you take time off, you’re risking your place on the Crushers. You know my dad won’t be happy about this.”
“That’s different,” I argue. “I’m not quitting. And believe me, I wouldn’t choose this.” If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t choose a lot of things in my life—Tina’s problems being first on the list. There’s still a part of me that wonders: What if things had been different? What if Tina had been stronger?
But we don’t always get second chances to make the right decision. That’s what I want Victoria to understand now. Her shot with Peter is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“Hey.” Victoria’s voice pulls me back, and her hand is warm against my cheek. She tilts my face so I’m forced to meet her eyes. “You’re a good man, Leo. Do you know why? Because you didn’t walk away when she needed someone. You told me you’d try to be there for her next time she needed you. You’re a man who keeps his promise.”
I shake my head. “If I’m such a good man, why do I feel so conflicted about it?” My voice turns ragged. “There’s a part of me that wishes I could just walk away. Be the kind of dirtbag who doesn’t feel responsible, who doesn’t care.”
“Guess what?” She inches closer and slides her hand to my chest, right over my heart. “You’re not that guy. You have an actual heart, Leo, and because of that, you refuse to walk away, even when it feels like she let you down. I know it hasn’t been easy, but do you know how incredible that is?”
“Incredible?” I huff. “More like incredibly stupid.”
“It’s not,” she says, firmly. “Most people will only offer their love if they get something in return. You’re showing up for her even when she has nothing to offer. It’s what makes me love you even more than I already do.” Then she reaches up, knots her hands around my neck, and pulls me toward her, brushing her lips against mine so urgently I can hardly catch my breath.
When she pulls away, her eyes search mine. For a moment, I forget the weight of everything—Tina’s accident, her decision to leave, and how badly I want to follow. It all fades, leaving only this moment between us.
“You really love me?” I ask, my voice rough. Being loved by this woman feels like a gift I don’t deserve.
She smiles, her fingers brushing against my neck. “How could I not? You’re infuriating and stubborn and grumpy half the time, but you’re also the most loyal, selfless person I know. And that’s why I’ll always choose you, Leo.”
I don’t deserve this, but she’s standing here, telling me she loves me, anyway.
I bring her hand to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles. “You know, for someone who loves me, you sure have terrible taste in men.”
She laughs softly. “Maybe I do. But you’re mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The next day, I unlock the door to Tina’s apartment, and wheel her toward the single bedroom off the main room. Everything’s tidy and the place smells faintly of cleaning supplies, like she’s making an effort to get her life in order. I help her out of the wheelchair and ease her onto the mattress, grabbing a pillow to prop up her injured leg.
“You good?” I ask, stepping back.
She nods, wincing as she adjusts herself. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’ll get you some water before I head out for my game.” When I reach the kitchen, I look around at the small, cramped apartment. The cupboards are mostly empty. So is her fridge. I don’t even see any alcohol around.
When I return to the room, I set the glass on the nightstand and pull out a few folded bills from my pocket. “Here,” I say, holding them out. “For groceries or whatever you need.”
Her gaze drops to the money, and she shakes her head. “I don’t want it.”
I frown. “Tina, don’t be stubborn. You’ll need it for grocery delivery.”
“No, Leo.” Her voice is firmer this time. “I’m done taking your money.”
“What do you mean, you’re done?” I ask, my hand still holding the money out. “You lost your job. You’re going to need something until your ankle heals.”
“I won’t take a dime from you anymore,” she cuts me off. There’s something in her eyes that tells me I won’t change her mind. “I don’t want you to help me because you feel obligated. I don’t want to be your burden anymore. I can’t fix the past—but I’m not accepting anything until you understand that’s not why I come around to see you.”
“You’re not a burden,” I reply, even though I know it’s a lie. I made Tina feel like a burden every time she tried to reach out to me. “You don’t have anyone else.”
“I know. But I’d rather figure it out on my own than have you resent me.”
The money in my hand suddenly feels like a cheap excuse for a relationship. This was never how it was supposed to be. Relationships aren’t transactional.
I tuck the money back into my pocket. “I don’t resent you,” I say, quietly.
“You do. I can see it every time I stop by.” Her eyes meet mine, softer now. “Leo, I don’t want your money or for you to fix my mistakes. I just want a relationship with you, whenever you’re ready. That’s why I’ve followed your career and moved to wherever you were playing. I was proud of you.”
“Tina,” I sigh, sitting on the bed. “How can I help you so that this doesn’t happen again?” I motion toward her injured ankle. “Because until you get your life under control, I don’t know how we can make this work.”
She frowns. “You think I had an accident because I’d been drinking?”
“Isn’t that what happened?”
She shakes her head. “No, a cat ran out in front of my car, and I swerved and lost control.”
“You didn’t have anything to drink?” I ask again.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t had a drink in seven months.”
I blink, still not believing her. “But I thought you lost your job because of it.”
“No,” she says. “I overslept for work because I had the flu. The assistant manager didn’t believe me, so he fired me. Later, the manager found out I had a valid reason for missing work and was furious that I got fired over it. So, now he’s giving me my job back—well, as soon as I recover from this.” She waves toward her injured ankle.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
“I’ve been trying,” she says. “Why do you think I kept asking to meet with you? I wanted to tell you what I’d done all on my own. And that I need some accountability, so I don’t turn back. But every time I tried to talk to you, I could tell you didn’t want to listen.”
I feel awful for pushing her away like that. All this time, I assumed the worst of her, when really, all she wanted was my support.
“Tina, I owe you an apology...” I say, slowly.
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”
“No,” I insist. “I meant for how I’ve been treating you—for brushing you off. It wasn’t right. I should’ve believed the best about you, but I didn’t even give you a chance. Instead, I assumed the worst, and that’s on me.”
“You had every reason to,” she sighs. “I haven’t exactly proven myself in the past. But I want to show you I can be trustworthy.” She looks at me hesitantly. “Can we try again?”
Something beats against my rib cage, and I realize Victoria is right—I do have a heart, even if I don’t like to admit it.
My lips curve into a small smile. “I’d like that more than anything.”