26. Aria
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lying on the couch, I flip through the TV channels before settling on some home improvement show. My nose tickles and I reach for the box of tissues that is on my coffee table just before I sneeze. I don't know where this head cold came from, but I blame it on the stress I've been enduring. And of course this happens right before we have our most important competition coming up.
I should be on the ice practicing, but I feel like complete ass. I know I'll be a worthless partner to Leo and, if I'm being completely honest, I could use a day away from him right now.
My phone vibrates from where it's laying on the couch and I pick it up to look at the message that came through. It's Leo. I texted him a little while ago to tell him I wouldn't be there this morning. There was disappointment when he didn't respond at first.
Leo
Are you okay?
I roll onto my back, pulling the plush quilt up to my chin before I type out a response to him.
Aria
I think it's just a cold. I need the day and will hopefully feel better tomorrow.
I only owe him an explanation because of our partnership. Other than that, he doesn't need to know what is going on with me. He doesn't need to know that I spent all day in this same exact spot after I left his house. He doesn't need to know that I struggled against the urge to run back to him all fucking day yesterday.
There's a lot he doesn't need to know… but at the same time, there are things I want him to know.
Leo
I hope you start feeling better soon.
I frown as I read over his message again and then lock my screen and toss it onto the other end of the couch. Fuck Leo and his mundane response. I don't know what I was expecting, but for some reason, it wasn't that. I had hoped maybe he would care a little bit—that he would care about me.
I was right all along.
Leo only cares about winning and he's just using me to get what he wants. There was a point yesterday where I started to convince myself that maybe he meant what he said, that maybe he wouldn't hurt me and I could trust him with my heart.
What an idiot…
I don't doubt that he wants me. I know he does. I have felt it and I have seen it. But there is a difference between wanting someone sexually and wanting all of them. It's very easy for someone to say one thing when they mean another. How am I supposed to know that Leo is actually being truthful when I haven't extended the same to him? What I told him yesterday just barely touched my feelings for him.
I need him to show me he means what he says. I don't just want his words, I want the actions to support it—to make me believe. I should have told him that yesterday and now I'm unsure of where to even begin. Do I reach out to him and ask him to talk? That feels far too formal compared to what has transpired between us.
An exasperated sigh escapes me and I drop my head back down on my pillow, feeling the ache within my temples. This is exhausting and I'm tired.
I know what I need to do. We need to talk. I need to be clear with him about what I want and what I don't want. Life is too short to leave things unsaid… I just need to figure out a way to tell him.
I need a moment to breathe, a moment for my anxiety to slide back into the back seat so I can be honest with Leo and myself.
He was right, he doesn't deserve this. He deserves the truth.
And the truth is I'm in love with him.
After spending most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, wasting away on the couch, I'm beginning to feel a little bit better. I don't feel one hundred percent. I'm still congested and sneezing, but my headache has started to dissipate, so that's a positive.
Hopefully sleeping all day isn't going to mess up my sleep schedule. I need all the rest I can get because I can't afford to take off tomorrow. Leo needs me on the ice with him. We have to be prepared for our next competition and this isn't helpful for anyone.
Plus… I think I'm finally going to pull on my big girl panties and come clean with him about how I feel. The thought alone is terrifying, but it has to be done. That's one thing I at least figured out while I spent the day sick on the couch.
I finally pull myself from my comfy spot and see it's almost three thirty. My hair feels disgusting, so I drag myself to the shower and turn the water on as hot as it will go. After stripping out of my clothes, I step into the steaming stream and feel it helping to ease away the remnants of my headache. The heat helps with the congestion and by the time I finally get out of the shower, my skin is bright red from the temperature, but I feel like a brand-new woman.
There's no doubt in my mind that I won't be able to get back on the ice tomorrow. We really need to make sure we have this new routine down. We can't afford to mess it up, not after all the work we put in to get this far. It's the world championship. We've both won it separately, but never together.
It has easily become my number one goal. Ultimately, all of this will help us to qualify for the Olympics, but that's a goal for next year. This year, I want nothing more than to win Worlds with Leo Wells by my side.
After getting dried off and dressed, I'm standing in front of the mirror, running a wide-toothed comb through my long hair when I hear the sound of my doorbell ringing through the house. My body freezes and a chill slides down my spine. My stomach quickens with anxiety. I'm not expecting anyone, so I have no idea who it could possibly be.
My brother Austin is in town for a few days while he gets some quotes for work he wants to do at the rink, but I haven't talked to him other than through text messages. I didn't tell him I was sick and we didn't talk about anything of importance. Hell, I didn't even tell him about Leo.
We didn't talk about getting together, but I can't think of who it would be other than him or Brynn. I talked to her this morning and she knew I wasn't feeling well, but she’s working until five today.
Leaving the bathroom a mess, I glance down at the Christmas pajamas I put on, even though it’s not even winter right now, and shrug as I leave the room. My footsteps are light and hesitant as I make my way to the front door. Lifting on my toes, I look out of the small pane of glass and my heart leaves my fucking chest.
It's Leo.
He's standing on the other side, one hand holding a paper bag and the other is tucked in the front pocket of his black joggers as he stares down at his sneakers. Dropping down onto my heels, I hold my hand over my chest as I give myself a moment or two to catch my breath and get myself together. He’s the last person I was expecting to show up here. My hand is tentative as I unlock the deadbolt and reach for the doorknob.
Slowly turning it, I open the door and move into the doorway as my eyes find Leo's. "Hey," I say softly, my voice hoarse and thick with sleep. "What are you doing here?"
Leo gives me a small apologetic smile and lifts the brown paper bag into the air. "I thought some soup might help you feel a little better."
Shifting my weight on my feet, I return his smile, although the apology in mine is a bit different. Silence momentarily hangs heavily between us before I step out of the way, making room for him to step inside my home. "I don't know if what I have is contagious, so I'm not sure if you want to come in or not."
"Nothing could keep me away from you," he says softly as he stares at me for two prolonged heartbeats. Leo steps through the doorway, kicking his shoes off in the foyer. "I'll take my chances with getting sick."
My plush socks slide across the floor as I close the door and lock it behind us. Leo follows me through the foyer and into the kitchen, but he holds his arm out to stop me as I go to reach for a drawer. "Go get comfortable on the couch and I'll bring you everything."
"I can't ask you to do that for me, Leo."
"You're not asking," he says with a sly grin and mischief dancing across his expression. "Let me take care of you, Aria."
I'm torn between not wanting him to feel obligated and wanting to let him. The last thing I want him to do is think I'm taking advantage of his kindness, especially after what happened yesterday morning. I'm not even sure I deserve his kindness at this point.
"Okay," I reply softly before padding across the floor, back over to where my spot is on the couch. Sitting down, I tuck my legs in and pull the quilt back over my body. My back rests against the cushion and I have the perfect view of my kitchen as I watch Leo move around the room like it's where he belongs.
He pulls a container from the brown paper bag and sets it on the counter. Confusion washes over my face as I watch him pull out multiple containers, all filled with various vegetables.
"I thought you said you brought soup?" I ask him as he lays everything out.
His gaze lifts to mine, his eyes shimmering under the lights as he stares at me from across the room. "I did," he says with a shrug. "Well, I brought everything to make soup."
My heart skips a beat in my chest and I'm at a loss for words. He goes back to busying himself in my kitchen and I stare at him in awe. As if bringing me soup wasn't enough, he brought everything to make it. I don't know the last time I've had home-cooked soup when I was sick. I roll through the memories in my brain and realize the answer is never.
Leo isn't familiar with anything in my kitchen and a slow smile pulls across my lips as I watch him opening various cabinet doors, looking for pots and bowls. He isn't struggling, but he's opening all the wrong doors. My lips part, a soft laugh escaping me before I finally interject to assist him.
"They're over in the—" I start to say but he lifts his hand to silence me.
"Let me find it myself," he tells me with a wink. "I'm trying to memorize where you keep everything."
I tilt my head to the side with curiosity lingering in my voice. "For what?"
"So I know where to find things next time."
Good Lord.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush as my heart drums harder against my rib cage, threatening to break through. I'm left speechless again, unsure of what this life is that I'm living. I tried to push him away in an effort to protect myself and here he is, knocking down every wall possible. He refuses to be shut out and I would be lying if I said I wasn't happy about it.
I always knew Leo didn't like to lose, but I didn't know the same concept would apply to me as well.
He looks like this is exactly where he belongs as he stands by my stove, stirring all the ingredients as he makes me soup.
He looks like he's at home… and maybe he is.
Maybe this is exactly where he belongs.
With me.