Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Leo
Bash looks from me to Melina, then back to me, his brow furrowed.
“Why is she staring at you?”
“No clue.”
It’s a lie, obviously, but now’s not the time to tell Bash what’s going on with my knee.
Melina was waiting for me on the airport runway this morning, and she was pissed. Since I slipped out of the locker room last night, she couldn’t examine my knee before the road trip.
Every step I take hurts at this point, and I have to work hard to play it off like nothing hurts. She watches my every move, just waiting for me to slip up.
My team needed me tonight. We won 3–2, and I scored one of our goals. As I celebrated the goal with my teammates, I wondered if Mara was watching at home.
I can’t stop thinking about her. The sex was off the charts, but it was the time we spent in bed after that’s still swirling around in my head. We laughed and talked, not sleeping much, even when we tried.
She’s sexy as hell when she’s sharp and fierce, but when she’s soft and exposed, she’s even sexier. It was hard as hell to kiss her goodbye and leave this morning. And I’m on a six-day road trip, so it’s going to be a long wait until I can see her again.
Carter comes over to the locker room bench Bash and I are sitting on, wearing just a T-shirt and underwear.
“Denton has to get his sac stitched,” he says.
“Oh, fuck,” I say. “From that stick to his groin?”
He nods. “Lucien’s gonna fuck Tyler Hortman up when we play them next. Denton almost passed out when he saw how swollen his nuts are.”
“Yeah, can’t blame him.”
Denton’s a rookie, and he’s a hell of a nice kid. He’s nineteen, and he reminds me of myself at his age. There are two brothers in the league—Tyler Hortman and Tyson Hortman—and they play for different teams. Tyler’s a brawny enforcer, and Tyson’s a goalie.
I have to do a quick interview when I leave the locker room, and I don’t hate it as much as I usually do. Probably because I know I won’t be asked for an interview again anytime soon—once Melina makes me get an MRI of my knee.
I keep my phone turned off during games, and when I turn it back on, I find a text from my dad.
Dad: Great game. Saw your interview. Very proud.
Smiling at the screen, I text him to say thanks. He’s actually a good conversationalist in person, but over text he uses as few words as possible. I was hoping for a text from Mara, but I don’t see one.
I’m going back and forth on whether I should text her when I decide, fuck it. I quickly type out a message to her.
Leo: Hey, thought about you all day. Hope work was good.
“Abbott.”
I look up and find Melina giving me a serious glare. She’s a good trainer and I feel slightly bad for ducking out on her last night.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
When I get up from the bench, she turns and leads the way into the training room. I get on the table, waiting for her to ask if she can examine me.
“Torn meniscus,” is all she says.
I shrug. “Might be.”
“Should I bother telling you about how much worse you could injure yourself by continuing to play on it?”
I shake my head.
“You might not need surgery. We might be able to rehab it. But if you keep playing on it, you’re definitely going to end up needing surgery.”
I don’t want surgery. But I also don’t want to leave my team midseason, even if it’s just for several weeks of rehab.
“I can tell by the way you’re walking what it is,” Melina says. “I could examine it, but I don’t need to. This is your body, man. You have to take care of it.”
I sigh heavily. “It was only bothering me a little until recently.”
“You need to stop playing and get an MRI as soon as we get home.”
I want to say no. But something inside me shifted last night when I was with Mara. I always thought that if I projected strength, it didn’t matter what was really happening to me on the inside.
When I told her about my anxiety and depression, and she didn’t look at me any differently, I realized how wrong I’ve been. I’ve fought my weaknesses for so many years. Lied and said I was fine when I wasn’t. I’m tired of that shit.
I nod, feeling anxious and relieved at the same time. It hurts like hell to play like this.
“I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through this,” she says.
I feel numb as I walk back out to the locker room and call Carter and Bash over to a quiet corner.
“I’m pretty sure I have a torn meniscus in my left knee,” I say.
Carter puts his hands on his head, his expression grim.
“Fuck,” Bash says.
I hate disappointing them, but I’m not at one hundred percent, and I can’t keep faking it forever.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Carter draws his brows together. “Don’t be sorry. Shit happens. We’ll get through it.”
“Or not.” I look away, my pulse pounding.
“What’s that mean?” Bash asks. “You’re not gonna die from a meniscus tear.”
I shrug. “No, but I might not make it back if I get surgery.”
“You’ll make it back.” Carter puts his hands on my shoulders. “I know you, man. Don’t sweat this.”
I almost laugh, wanting to tell him I sweat absolutely everything. Anxiety is a part-time job for me at times. But I’m not ready for anyone but Mara to know about it yet.
“I’m beat,” I say. “I hardly got any sleep last night. I’m going back to the hotel to crash.”
We usually take off for the next city after finishing a game, but our team plane is getting a part replaced, so we’re flying out in the morning. It’ll be an early morning, but at least I get to sleep in a bed tonight.
I go back to my locker and get my stuff, seeing a text back from Mara.
Mara: Work wasn’t great. I’ll talk to you about it when you get back. Great game tonight. Thank you for the roses, they’re beautiful.
I frown at the phone. Like hell are we talking about it when I get back. We’re talking about it tonight.
“You’re at Dex’s?”
I’m on the ride back to my hotel, and I’m about to jump out of my skin.
“It’s probably nothing, but I’ll sleep better here tonight.”
Mara’s drowsy voice reminds me of last night—or maybe I should say early this morning—when she was safely in my arms in bed.
“Why do you think it’s nothing? Does Dex have a security system? Are the police out looking for this guy?”
“Slow down.” There’s a smile in her voice. “I’m okay, Leo. Dex has a security system and a dead bolt.”
I want to board the next flight back to Cleveland. This guy who threatened her is dangerous and unhinged. It’s making me sick that I’m so far away from her right now.
“If the police know who it is, why is he not in jail?”
“They’re looking for him.”
I about blow a gasket. “So he’s on the loose?”
“The last I heard, he was, but they could have him in custody by now.”
I run a hand through my hair, my blood pressure rising with every word she says. “Can you call and find out?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
She sounds so calm and relaxed. Which is making me even more un calm and un relaxed. This maniac could be waiting around any corner for her. He could fuck with her car or break into her apartment.
“This is part of the job,” she says. “People don’t like getting fined or put in jail or having their loved ones put in jail. I’m taking precautions, I promise.”
I sink into the back seat of the SUV I’m in, my heart still thudding like a drum.
“I’m not used to having someone to worry about,” I say. “Am I moving too fast?”
She hums in amusement. “No. But isn’t it funny that going balls deep is fine, but if you show you care, you’re worried about moving too fast?”
“I want to do things the right way,” I say, unsure how this conversation got so off course. “Not that I know what that is when we’ve already known each other for a year.”
“You’re doing things perfectly. I loved the roses so much.”
I lower my voice, not wanting my driver to hear what I’m saying. “It’s hard for me to not know whether you’re safe. Even though we’re ... new.”
“I’m safe. Dex is taking me to work tomorrow and picking me up after, so we can go to trivia and then come back to his place. I won’t be alone.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me something.”
Her voice casts a spell over me. I was all worked up, and just the sound of her voice calms me. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”
I should say something nice about her, but instead I say, “I talked to our trainer about my knee. I’m going on the injured reserve and getting an MRI when I get home.”
“You did? Oh, Leo. I’m so glad you did. What made you change your mind?”
“You.”
She laughs lightly. “I love it when I get credit for something I wasn’t even trying to do. Seriously, this is really good news. So what happens from here?”
I sigh deeply. “The MRI will help the doctors see how bad the tear is. They’ll either recommend rehab or surgery. Either way, I’ll be out for at least four weeks.”
“Wow. How are you feeling about that?”
“I don’t even know. It hasn’t even sunk in yet. It will tomorrow, when I’m not dressing for the game.”
She yawns, and I remember our lack of sleep last night. “You don’t regret last night, do you?”
“Not at all. It was incredible. Do you regret it?”
“No. I haven’t told Suki yet. Or anyone else. She’s going to be so smug and satisfied when she finds out.”
I grin. “Oh yeah? Why?”
“She pretty much called it. She thought she saw an attraction between us.”
“I don’t think I was ever great at hiding it.”
“But you’ve called me a witch in like fifty-seven different ways. And the endless comments about my bush ... No man could ever fuck me without a machete and a road map. My bush maintenance should be covered by the feds because it’s wildfire prevention. My bush is actually a wormhole that?—”
I stop her. “I know. I was an asshole. I regret every word of it.”
She hums a single note of amusement. “It’s okay. I like a good spar every now and then. I like to think I give as good as I get.”
I remember last night and all of our verbal bouts that led up to it. “Always. If not better. One of the sexiest things about you is how smart you are.”
My car pulls up to my hotel and I get out, taking my bag and waving to the driver.
“I’m falling asleep,” Mara says. “I was thinking ... instead of playing games about how often we should text and see each other, what if we’re just totally honest? I’ll start. I’ll be hurt if I don’t hear from you at all tomorrow. A text is fine, just don’t ignore me.”
“You won’t need to worry about that. Get some sleep. And let me know if anything happens with the nutjob who emailed you.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Night.”