Chapter 11
Leo
Happiness is a dangerous drug for a pessimist.
It creeps up on you. It starts as a loose feeling in your chest, a lightness in your step, a tendency to smile at things that used to annoy you. And then, before you know it, you’re humming in the shower and ignoring the giant, looming storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
I was humming.
I stood under the scalding spray of the locker room showers, letting the water beat down on my bruised ribs.
The bruise was already fading to a sickly yellow-green—shifter healing at work—but the memory of how I got it felt distant.
The fight, the scout, the pressure of the draft... it all felt muffled.
Like I was wrapped in cotton. Or vanilla.
"You're humming," Silas said from the next stall over.
I stopped abruptly. "I'm clearing my throat."
"You were humming a concerto," Silas corrected, poking his head around the divider.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he looked suspiciously gleeful.
"Specifically, the one Maya played at her recital.
Which, by the way, was terrifying. I didn't know cellos could sound like heavy metal guitars. "
"Mind your own business, Si," I grunted, turning off the water.
"It is my business when my Captain is walking around with a dopey grin and smelling like a Bath it was an ambush. She tasted like peppermint tea and hunger. Her body pressed against mine, soft curves against hard angles.
I kissed her back, devouring her mouth. My hands slid down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly so she was pressed against my erection.
"I missed you," she mumbled against my jaw.
"I saw you at breakfast two hours ago," I laughed, nipping at her lower lip.
"Too long," she complained. She pulled back, her eyes shining. She looked radiant. The shadows under her eyes were gone. She was glowing with a confidence that made her even more beautiful. "Did you get my text about tonight?"
"Something about Harper and a movie night?"
"Yeah. She's suspicious, Leo. She keeps asking why I'm always 'studying' late. I have to give her some face time. So... no Hive tonight."
My stomach dropped. "Withdrawal symptoms already kicking in."
"I know," she sighed, resting her forehead against my chest. "I hate sleeping alone now. My bed feels too big."
"Sneak out," I suggested, my voice low. "Wait until she's asleep. I'll pick you up."
"Leo, we can't. If we get caught sneaking out of the dorms at 2:00 AM, the RA will write me up. And if Harper wakes up..."
"Fine," I grumbled. I kissed the top of her head. "But I'm claiming the weekend. The team is going to the cabin on the lake for a 'bonding retreat.' You're coming."
"A team retreat?" She pulled back, looking skeptical. "Is that allowed? Won't they... smell me?"
"They already smell you on me," I said bluntly. "Silas called me out this morning. The jig is up with the pack, Maya. They know. They just haven't said anything because they're terrified of me."
"Oh." She bit her lip. "So I'd be the only girl?"
"No. Silas brings his flavor of the month. Jax usually brings two. It's chaos. But it's private. No scouts. No parents. Just us, a fire, and a lake."
"Okay," she smiled. "I'm in."
"Good."
I checked my watch. "You have class in eight minutes."
"I know."
"We should stop."
"We should."
She didn't move. Her hands smoothed over my chest, tracing the muscles under my shirt.
"Or," I whispered, my hand sliding under her sweater to touch the warm skin of her back, "we could make you late."
She shivered. "I can't be late. Professor Halloway is watching me like a hawk since the recital. He thinks I'm 'unstable'."
"He thinks you're brilliant," I corrected. "I heard him telling the Dean."
"You were eavesdropping?"
"I was gathering intelligence."
She laughed, stepping back. She smoothed her sweater and fixed her hair in the reflection of the piano lid.
"I have to go," she said regretfully.
"Go."
She opened the door. She looked back at me, her eyes soft. "I love you."
The words still hit me like a physical blow. Every time.
"I love you too," I said. "Now get out of here before I drag you back in."
She blew me a kiss and disappeared into the hallway.
I stood in the empty practice room for a moment, staring at the door. The scent of vanilla lingered in the air.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.
This was dangerous. This was reckless.
And I had never been happier.
The happiness lasted until Thursday afternoon.
I was in the library, ostensibly working on a history paper, but mostly texting Maya under the table.
Me: I'm bored. Come rescue me.
Maya: Can't. Harper is watching me study. She thinks I'm looking up 'Political Theory of the 19th Century' but I'm actually looking at pictures of you.
Me: Creep.
Maya: Narcissist.
I snorted, earning a glare from the librarian.
My phone buzzed again. An incoming call.
Unknown Number.
I frowned. I usually ignored these, but something—an instinct—made me answer.
"Vance," I answered, keeping my voice low.
"Leo Vance?" The voice was crisp, professional, and unfamiliar. "This is Marcus Thorne. I'm an agent with Titan Sports Management."
My spine stiffened. Titan. They were the big leagues. They represented half the All-Stars in the NHL.
"I'm listening," I said, sitting up straighter.
"I've been watching your tape, Leo. You're impressive. Physicality, speed, leadership. You have the raw materials of a first-round pick."
My heart hammered. This was it. This was the call.
"But," Thorne continued, his tone cooling, "there's chatter. About your... temperament. The fight last week against Granite State? That clip is making the rounds. It's ugly, son. You looked out of control."
I gripped the phone tight. "I was protecting a teammate."
"You were mauling a player," Thorne corrected. "Look, the talent is there. But teams are wary. They don't want a loose cannon. I'm going to be in town this weekend. I want to meet. Dinner. Saturday night."
Saturday night. The cabin trip.
"I... I have plans this weekend," I stammered. "A team retreat."
"Cancel them," Thorne said flatly. "Unless s'mores are more important to you than a multimillion-dollar contract. I'll text you the details. Don't be late, Leo. And don't bring the temper."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
The bubble popped.
The real world rushed back in—cold, demanding, and unforgiving.
I had to cancel the trip. I had to tell Maya.
I texted her.
Me: We need to talk.
We met in my truck in the parking lot behind the gym. It was raining—a cold, miserable drizzle that turned the snow into grey slush.
Maya climbed in, shaking out her umbrella. She looked happy to see me, leaning over for a kiss before she saw my face.
She stopped. "What's wrong?"
"I have to cancel the weekend," I said bluntly. I didn't mean to be harsh, but the stress was making me defensive.
"What? Why?"
"I got a call. An agent. From Titan."
Her eyes widened. "Leo! That's amazing! Titan is huge, right?"
"Ideally, yes. But he wants to meet Saturday night. He wants to grill me about my 'temperament'."
"Oh." Her smile faltered. "So... no cabin?"
"No cabin," I confirmed. "I have to stay here. I have to prep. I have to be... perfect."