14. leo
FOURTEEN
leo
W hen I reach the parking lot after my talk with Eugene, the sound of a dying motor echoes across the lot. Victoria sits in her car, worrying her lip as she turns over the sputtering engine. Each time, it groans like an animal in pain. Her panicked gaze flicks to me, then back to her dashboard, like she’s willing her car to start before I reach her.
I wait for a beat before knocking on her window.
She cracks it open an inch. “I’m fine, Leo. You can go home.”
“Your car isn’t going to miraculously start by turning it over a hundred times. You need help?”
She shakes her head.
I know why she’s not asking me for a favor. Because she’s too afraid of being vulnerable. Isn’t that what Eugene just told me?
“Why don’t you hop in my car?” I suggest.
She cranks the engine again, and it sputters and dies. “If I wait a little longer, it will start.”
I narrow my eyes. “You can’t afford a tow truck, can you?”
She scoffs. “I don’t need a tow truck.”
“Based on the dying-moose sound coming from under your hood, you’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“Well, do you have a better solution?” she asks, clearly frustrated.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “We could knock out Eugene’s assignment since he cut practice short.”
“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” she says, looking at her steering wheel. “I’m not doing Eugene’s assignment. You and I both know that one date won’t solve anything. If I can’t make this work with you, then the chance of me getting one last shot is gone.”
“Says who?”
“Says me!” She turns to face me. “Eugene knows it already— no one wants to be my partner. I might as well quit. It’s what you want anyway.”
She flops her head against the steering wheel in defeat, and I wish I could just pull her into my arms instead of standing uselessly outside her car.
“It’s not what I want,” I say firmly, remembering Eugene’s words—that she needs a friend, not someone who will walk away. “And I’m not letting you quit.”
She lifts her head off the steering wheel and stares at me. “Isn’t your goal to force me out? Then my dad will have to allow you to play again.”
I keep my eyes locked on hers. “Victoria.” I crack open her door. “This would be easier to say if you got out of the car.”
She climbs out and leans against her car, crossing her ankles. She looks defeated, like someone who’s spent her whole life fighting battles she could never win. Even though our background isn’t the same, maybe we’re more alike than different.
“So, what do you want?” she asks.
“I want to be your friend.”
Her brow furrows. “But I thought you said...”
“I know what I said,” I interrupt. “But I can’t let you give up skating. You’ve worked too hard to quit now. I’m going to stand by you as your partner and your friend.”
She pauses. “You’re... willing to work with me?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say, holding her gaze. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes, because I believe you can make it to Nationals this year. I’ve seen what you can do on the ice. You’re a triple threat. You’ve got everything it takes to win.”
She blinks twice, her lips parting slightly. “Really?”
“Really,” I say. “You’re one of the best skaters I’ve ever seen. You don’t just have talent—you have the drive to push yourself all the way. You just need someone in your corner, to encourage you to keep going.”
Her eyes turn watery and she blinks quickly, trying to push it back. “You’rethe first person to actually believe I can do it.”
“Well, then it’s about time someone did,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though I can’t stand to see her cry. If there’s one thing I can’t take, it’s a woman in tears. Seeing her hopes and dreams die all over her face... it’s not something I ever want to witness again.
“I’ve always believed in you,” I murmur. “Remember what I told you the first time we met? You don’t just skate. You made me forget the world existed. ” She smiles softly, the tears still shining in her eyes, and my heart feels like it’s been torn to shreds. “I think the world needs to see that, too.”
“But I don’t understand,” she says, shaking her head. “Why do you want to help me now?”
“Just because our relationship didn’t work before doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or your dreams.” I reach for her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrink back this time. My fingers slip across her skin. It feels like silk, and I wonder what it would be like to slide my hand along the curve of her neck, to tease the corner of her jaw, cup her face, and...
Stop. She’s still someone I can’t be with—not like that . I need to keep my thoughts in the friend zone if this is going to work. At least, until I can find someone to replace me—a guy who knows how to figure skate.
“Does this mean I have to be nice to you?” she asks, biting back a smile.
“Nope. But you do have to let me into your world, and that means trying to be friends—even if you’d rather put me out of work with that knee kick of yours.”
She winces. “Sorry about that.”
“Not as sorry as I am for dropping you.”
She smiles, and for one glorious second, it feels like I’ve turned the clock back. Her lips curve, making her mouth look so kissable my heart thunders like a kick drum. I’m completely lost in the moment—until her phone dings with a message. She glances at the screen, her brow creasing. “It’s my neighbor, Delilah. Can you take me back to my apartment?”
“As long as this isn’t some elaborate scheme to get out of your homework.”
Her face flicks up to mine. “It’s not. My neighbor has an emergency.” She reaches in her backseat, grabbing her bag, then heads to my car. “Her parrot is in trouble.”
“Excuse me?” I stop in the middle of the parking lot. “Did you just say that her bird has an emergency?”
She throws me an exasperated look over her shoulder, like I’m the crazy one here. “Of course I did.” Then she tosses her stuff in my car. “Big Bertha is her emotional support parrot with the potty mouth. Don’t you remember me mentioning him?”
I blink. “Big Bertha is . . . a boy ?”
“Yes, but don’t mention it in front of him. Delilah thought he was a girl when she inherited the parrot from another tenant at Bellgate. She’s terrible about overfeeding him snacks, but he’s her only companion, and she’ll have heart palpitations if anything happens to him.”
“So you’re afraid I’ll offend a bird ?” I say, frowning.
“Bertha can get really touchy when he’s insulted.” She hops in the passenger seat and buckles herself in. “Now, hurry up. Bertha can’t wait all day.”
I shake my head in wonder. I have women lined up in my DM’s wanting to go out with me, and this woman is making me hurry for her neighbor’s obese parrot. Who have I even become?
We head to Bellgate Apartments, with Victoria frantically texting updates. “Big Bertha escaped out the window again, and Delilah lives on the third floor. He’s sitting on the ledge, and there’s no way I’m letting Delilah attempt to capture him.”
I look over at Victoria. “Well, maybe it’s time for Big Bertha to learn a lesson about sneaking out of the house.”
She frowns. “Well, I’m not letting Delilah down. Big Bertha is all she has. I’ll save him myself if I have to.”
“You absolutely will not risk your life for a bird.”
“Why not? I’m a skater—I have great balance.”
I shake my head. “No way am I letting you near that window.”
“Leo, Delilah is in her seventies. She shouldn’t be climbing on window ledges.”
“Then I will,” I say, already regretting the words as they leave my mouth. I hate parrots. And heights. Clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment.
Her eyebrows fly up. “You’d save Big Bertha?”
“Not because I want to,” I grumble. “I’m not that nice.”
Her smile widens. “Sloan was right. You do have a heart under there.”
When we arrive, Bellgate Apartments is exactly how I remember: run-down and highly questionable, like the backdrop of a low-budget horror movie. No place Victoria should be living.
I climb out of the car, studying the third floor. “Tell me, why am I risking my life for this bird?”
Victoria hauls her bag over her shoulder. “Delilah brought me brownies when I moved in. Isn’t that the most neighborly thing?”
I shoot her a look. “That’s probably because your other neighbors would lace their brownies with illegal substances.”
She shakes her head. “Bellgate is perfectly fine,” she promises, before walking toward the entrance.
I hang back, surveying the crumbling building.
The overgrown bushes out front look like they haven’t seen a pair of clippers in decades, and the faded sign hanging above the entrance reads “ellgate” because the “B” fell off years ago. Someone thought it’d be funny to spray-paint an “H” on there instead, making it “Hellgate”—which honestly feels accurate.
A loud squawk from above catches my attention, and I spot Big Bertha—who should actually be called Mr. Stupid Feathers—on a ledge that’s barely wide enough for him to park his fat bird butt on.
He’s also about six feet away from any window access, which means if I can’t coax him inside, then someone will have to risk their neck shuffling across that tiny ledge. And that someone will probably be me.
I shake my head at Bertha. “Really? You had to pick today to do this?”
Big Bertha lets out an insult that would impress a room of hockey players.
A window opens, and Victoria peeks her head out. “I’m in Delilah’s apartment, number 308. Lucky us, she’s baking brownies today!” Then she turns to Big Bertha and clucks her tongue at him. Bertha ignores her completely.
“Don’t you dare think about it,” I warn Victoria. “Stay right there. I’m coming upstairs.”
I sprint up the sketchy stairwell, the floor sticky enough to make me question whether it’s been cleaned in the last decade, before I head down the dimly lit hallway that smells faintly of mildew. Delilah greets me at her door in a mauve dressing gown, looking like she just stepped off the set of The Golden Girls . Behind her, Wheel of Fortune plays on TV.
“Are you the gentleman here to save my Bertha?” she asks, clutching a remote.
Victoria appears at her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Yes, this is my friend Leo.”
It’s the first time she’s called me her friend. Temporary skating partner just got an upgrade.
“He loves birds,” Victoria adds with a smirk. “He’ll make sure nothing happens to Big Bertha, right, Leo?”
“Nothing will happen to the bird,” I mutter, already regretting this entire situation. I should’ve insisted on taking her to a restaurant and let Bertha fend for himself.
Delilah’s brow furrows and her hands flutter nervously. “Oh, goodness me, do you think he’s in danger? He has wings, so I just assumed...”
“Can he fly?” I ask.
She wrings her hands together. “Um, no, not really. But he thinks he can.”
A delusional bird with an ego problem. Just perfect.
Victoria loops her arm through Delilah’s. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She steers Delilah away from the door and then gives me a pointed nod that tells me she wants me to take care of Bertha ASAP.
“Do you mind if I look in your pantry for something Bertha might like?” I ask.
“Be my guest,” Delilah says as she and Victoria settle on the afghan-covered couch to watch the game show.
I rifle through the pantry, grabbing anything that looks remotely parrot-appropriate. Crackers? Sure. A half-eaten bag of tortilla chips? Why not. A can of olives? Probably not, but I’m desperate.
Armed with my makeshift bird buffet, I head to the window and lean out, hoping the promise of snacks will tempt Bertha back to safety. I take out the sleeve of crackers and wave it like a peace offering.
“Come on, Bertha,” I say under my breath. “You like crackers, right? Who doesn’t like crackers?”
Bertha squawks, then gives me the side-eye like he couldn’t possibly stoop to the level of a cracker.
“Okay, Bertha,” I mutter, lining up the bird buffet on the ledge. “Let’s make this easy. You want some chips? Or, I don’t know, a donut? Whatever got you to be this size in the first place?”
Bertha tilts his head and squawks indignantly. “Meathead!”
I freeze. “Did you just call me?—?”
“Meathead!” he screeches again, hopping closer to the edge like he’s ready to jump.
“Great. A parrot who hurls insults at his rescuer,” I grumble, snatching a towel off the back of a chair. This is what I get for trying to be a hero in front of Victoria.
I duck my head as I slip through the window and step one foot onto the ledge, gripping the window frame like it’s my lifeline. Then I shuffle my body so I’m within reach of the parrot. “Alright, Big Bertha, here’s how this is gonna go,” I say, giving him a look that says I mean business. “I might not like you. But I need to get you back to your owner before she has a heart attack. So you’re gonna flap those stubby wings over here, and we’ll both pretend this never happened.”
Bertha faces me with an indignant beady eye and squawks, “Meat... head.” Then he turns his back to me like I don’t exist.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. The parrot’s attitude is really getting on my nerves now. “I’ll teach you who the meathead is.” I lunge forward, barely keeping my balance as he hops out of reach, crying like he’s being assaulted.
“You asked for it,” I growl, tossing the towel over him like I’m wrangling a wild animal. He screeches bloody murder, flapping wildly under the fabric.
“Gotcha!” I say, scooping up the bird. His head pops out of the towel, and he fixes me with a death glare, squawking what I assume are parrot profanities.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter, carefully shuffling along the edge to return to safety. Victoria’s neighbor is practically in tears, thanking me as she takes the angry bird from my arms.
I shut the window behind me and lock it just in case. “You should really get a screen.”
“Our landlord won’t fix it. I know it’s been cold outside, but Bertha likes the fresh air, and I was only planning on leaving it open for a few minutes,” Delilah says. “Could you stay for a brownie, at least? I’d love to thank you for saving Bertha’s life.”
“Meathead!” Bertha squawks and then adds a few more choice words about me just to drive the point home.
“Sure, since he loves me so much,” I say just to spite him.
Victoria looks at me with a grin that says she’s proud of my heroic deed.
“How about an extra large brownie?” Delilah says.
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble...” But Delilah doesn’t listen. She hurries to the kitchen, while Victoria moves next to Bertha’s cage. “You know, even though you hate Bertha, he seems to love you.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been yelled at on the ice before, but this ? This is a new low.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up liking parrots after this. I did hear you talking to Big Bertha in a kind voice. It didn’t even sound like grumpy old you.”
“Are you sure you don’t need your ears checked?” I say, putting on my best scowl. “Because I clearly don’t like Bertha.” I lean down and look at the bird inside his cage. “Did you hear that, Bird Brain? I don’t like you.”
Big Bertha turns his back to me and lifts his tail feathers.
I point at his tail. “I’m pretty sure that’s an inappropriate bird gesture.”
Victoria bites her lip, fighting a smile.
Delilah returns with a plate piled high with brownies. “Here’s a little something for saving my parrot.”
It’s more than “a little”—there’s at least a dozen brownies, a dangerous haul for a professional athlete. But the sweet smile she gives me reminds me of my grandma, and I have a soft spot for grandma-types.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, accepting the plate.
Delilah beams. “You know, you should come by more often. Victoria doesn’t have any nice young men visiting her.”
Victoria’s face flames.
“Really? That is a problem,” I say, playing along. “I’d be happy to help with that.”
Victoria crosses her arms “Why would I need a man when I have Big Bertha?” She sticks a finger between the cage bars, and the bird nearly snaps it off.
I lift an eyebrow, proving my point.
“Bertha, be nice!” Delilah says, before turning to Victoria. “Honey, I wouldn’t have Big Bertha if I could find me a nice man. Besides, a pretty girl like you should go on a date every once in a while.” Then she turns toward me. “And I think I found just the person to take you.” She winks at me, and Victoria covers her mouth to hide her amusement.
“Funny you say that, Delilah,” I begin. “Because Victoria and I were just heading out for a date.”
“Really?” Delilah’s face lights up. Judging by her reaction, I just spilled the best gossip she’s heard all week. “Oh, well, don’t let me keep you, then.”
“We’re not in a hurry,” Victoria says, stealing a brownie from my plate and feeding it to Bertha. No wonder that bird has weight issues.
She’s trying to avoid our “assignment,” but I’m not about to let Bertha derail my plans after risking my neck for him. That stupid bird owes me.
“Maybe I should just stay and make sure everybody is okay,” Victoria tries, turning to Delilah. “Is your heart okay? No fluttery feelings?”
“Oh, sweetie, my heart is as good as ever.” She places her hand on Victoria’s back and gives her a gentle shove out the door. “You have a fun night and tell me all about it tomorrow over coffee.”
So, Victoria regularly has gossip sessions with Delilah? It’s sweet—and unexpected . She could be at the rink or lounging at her parents’ house. Instead, she’s here, making time for Delilah.
Victoria opens her mouth to protest, but I place my hand on her back and wave at Delilah, knowing exactly where I’m taking Victoria tonight.