Chapter Seventeen #2
“Hey, Coach!” Nic ropes me into a hug before I can even process what’s happening. “What are you doing here? I didn’t even think you were allowed to hang with us.”
“I’m here for dinner,” I say. “Same as you. Vivi, too—she’ll be here soon. Kind of like a team-sanctioned thing.”
Leo cuts me a confused look over his shoulder.
In my mind—half a second ago when I concocted this plan—I thought it would make it less weird if Vivi were also here. But judging by Leo’s expression, I’m not so sure that was the right call.
Nola’s mouth pops open as she gasps. “Vivian Starling is coming here?”
On second thought, maybe liquor is a smart move. I could use a swig of anything at all right about now. “Yes, she’s meeting me here. I mentioned that, didn’t I, Leo?”
“Yes, we’d discussed having yet another person over,” Leo says begrudgingly.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and point a finger gun at the front door. “Let me call her to see where she is. Excuse me.”
“You should do location sharing,” Nola calls after me. “Much faster.”
I’m still nodding like a bobblehead as I close the door behind me. The breath leaves my lungs in a gust.
I replace it with a deep inhale of the cold, woodsy air.
Now I have to manifest a Vivi out of thin air while avoiding answering her inevitable questions.
I dial her number and lift the phone to my ear.
She answers on the third ring. “Hello, my love. Where are you? I bought wine. Two bottles, so we can properly enjoy our night off before traveling all week.”
“Wine. Good. I need you to bring it to me.”
“Huh? Where?”
I wince. “Leo’s house.”
Her pause is mighty.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you want me to pack up two bottles of your favorite Petite Sirah I bought for us to drink on the couch and bring them to Leo McLaren’s house?”
“Correct. Callum and Nic are here, too.” Might as well get that out in the open.
Silence pierces the line until she deigns to respond. “And why are you there, exactly?”
“Because why not?” I blurt. “Can you just do this for me, no questions asked?”
“Fine, weirdo. I definitely won’t mention how you refused to discuss him guard-dogging our house and now want me to crash dinner at his place. Send me the address. Will there be food, or shall I pick up a few Happy Meals on the way. You know, the food of Leo’s people?”
“Huh?”
“Because he’s so pleasant…never mind.”
“I’ll send the address. No food needed, we’ve got some here. I love you more than words can express.”
“You should’ve opened with that. See you soon.”
I’m tempted to wait for her out here on the porch so I don’t slip up and get myself in trouble. If Callum or Nic catches me looking at Leo some type of way…
Stop it.
I’m being ridiculous. It’s not like I’m going to climb in Leo’s lap and whisper sweet nothings in his ear in front of everyone.
I’ll be on my best, most normal behavior. Plus, Nic and Callum aren’t exactly the most observant duo, so they aren’t going to be searching for signs that Leo and I are up to no good.
And part of me is a little too curious about how Leo acts when he’s hosting.
Ultimately, that curiosity draws me back inside like a moth to his lit hearth.
Leo’s dining room table comfortably holds the six of us, despite all three of the guys being built like…well, like professional hockey players.
I gently swirl my wineglass as Callum, Nic, and Vivi argue about whether or not the internet is good for humanity. Nola looks ready to pass out at the suggestion that maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Leo doesn’t throw his opinion in the mix, but he does seem engaged in the debate until he eventually stands to gather empty bowls and plates. When I lift mine to hand it to him, I notice a sticker on the bottom, as if the plate is brand new or at least very lightly used.
My mind flashes to memories I’m not privy to, of Leo cooking a meal no one else gets to taste and eating it alone at this table made for six. Of dishes he bought but never uses.
It shouldn’t make me sad, but it does. Not just for him, but for me as well—a person who is no stranger to dining without company. I lived alone in Minnesota and there were many nights where it was just me, my dinner, and a rousing podcast.
Now I have Vivi, at least. We always sit down and eat together when we’re both home.
At the creaky table Leo and I almost broke.
Probably shouldn’t think about that.
Skin flushing at the very recent memory, I grab my wineglass and follow him to the sink.
“Let me wash all this,” I offer. “You go talk to the group. I’m sure you have opinions about the internet.”
I keep my voice low, even though the group is too amped up to bother eavesdropping across a giant kitchen with vaulted ceilings that eat noise.
He ignores my suggestion as he takes the glass in my hand. Instead of washing it, he fills it halfway with more wine. “And what will I do, then? Watch you clean up after Nola’s guests?”
“Your guests,” I correct, pulsing with the kind of shit-stirring energy that only he inspires in me. “Your favorite Maine residents, all in one place, plus one California firecracker.”
The sound he makes is somewhere between a hum and a growl. “I like this part. Cooking. Cleaning. It’s much more appealing than story time at the table.”
It makes all the sense in the world that Leo wouldn’t be the type to enjoy attention, even in his own house. Nic and Callum are powered by the spotlight, but that’s not Leo. He’s more content to observe. Step in to help. Defend and provide.
And that’s how I know he genuinely still loves his sport, and his role within it—because he’s not soaking up the perks of being an NHL hotshot.
He’s not seeking attention or adoration from the press—the opposite, in fact.
He’s not going out and enjoying the benefits that his, or his dad’s, name would afford him.
He plays because it comes naturally. It lives within him. And then he goes home and enjoys his peace and quiet.
I prop a hip against the counter. “Fine, you can clean. Why don’t I go find us a board game to play or something? Where do you keep Monopoly?”
He side-eyes me. “I don’t have games.”
I gasp. “You monster! Who doesn’t have games?”
People who have no one to play with, I realize a few seconds too late.
My lips turn down. “I’m getting you Monopoly.”
“Stop it. If you buy me a board game, I’m going to buy you something in return. You don’t want to start that battle with me.” He nods toward the kitchen window, which I assume glimpses the backyard based on where it’s located. “Should I make a fire?”
He sounds and looks like he’s willing to accept either answer. Silly as it is, I like that someone wants my opinion on something other than hockey. I especially like that it’s him. It colors some kind of empty shape inside of me. “A fire sounds nice.”
His gaze lingers on mine for a beat, just long enough to awaken my nerves, before he peers over his shoulder. “Oy, Nola. Can you move the porch chairs to the firepit while I finish these?”
“The ones with the plastic wrap still on them?” she yells back.
“Yes, smart-ass.”
Everyone but Leo heads outside and grabs a chair. We peel off any offending plastic before we set them up around a large metal firepit. By the time Leo comes out from cleaning a few minutes later, we’ve all chosen our seats.
I choose one between the girls.
The night sky is dark and clear, a seemingly boundless navy blanket that makes me feel wonderfully small. Insignificant in the best way.
I feel like I can breathe out here—like no one’s opinions can reach me within the confines of this property.
Leo sets to work making a fire, retrieving chopped wood he had on standby and starting it the old-fashioned way while Callum and Nic offer commentary. He doesn’t let them help.
Something about this man making a fire makes my whole body hum. So much so, I down my wine in a few large gulps and nip back into the house to refill my glass, my heart racing at an embarrassing clip.
Control yourself.
The fruit of Leo’s labor crackles in the pit when I return to the circle, flames licking at the logs, spitting tiny sparks that drift up into the dark like drunk fireflies.
This is better than Monopoly.
Nola interrogates Vivi about every facet of her past—“How do you not fall in love immediately when you’re skating doubles?”—while Callum and Nic discuss our upcoming games.
I try to focus on the conversations happening around me instead of Leo.
That proves difficult.
He’s sitting directly across from me, his face flickering between shadow and warmth as the light catches on his features. I think I should stop drinking before I do something stupid, like continue to look at him for even another second.
But the way he regards me over the rim of his beer bottle makes that very difficult. It’s the kind of concentrated look that makes me want to sink to my knees in front of him.
Wine was a bad choice. The tannins enhance every feeling.
Every craving.
I work my phone out of my pocket to distract myself. I need something to pull me out of the quicksand that is Leo McLaren cast in firelight.
A message pops up within seconds.
Keep looking at me like that and I’ll sneak you into the back shed to help me gather more wood.
I nearly drop the phone.
My skin flames with heat. This side of him—bold and forward—is dangerous. It’s like catnip.
I type a response.
You’re making me blush.
Leo’s phone is perched on his thigh as though he was waiting for it to light up. His brightness is so low that only someone staring at his lap would notice when it does.
That someone is me.
I watch him type his response.
I can see up your dress.
My gaze darts up to meet his. What is he playing at? I’m wearing jeans. He knows that. His hands were in my back pockets, groping me like he couldn’t get enough.
I’m not wearing a dress.
His response is immediate.
Good point. What else aren’t you wearing?
The temperature outside seems to ratchet up all at once. He wants to flirt, does he?
I’ve been told I have a good poker face, but this is testing even my limits. If Vivi was paying even a shred of attention, she’d be able to tell I’m a very specific kind of distracted.
If only I could bring myself to stop.
I’m not wearing much under these jeans. And my bra is pretty skimpy, too. You should see it.
We both know he won’t. Not tonight.
But that’s hardly the point.
I can only imagine. And I am. You are so fucking beautiful, Sadie.
Time slows into something inconsequential.
I don’t look up from my screen. I can’t, because I’m certain I’ll give something away if I do.
I’m still staring at the smudged glass when his second response comes in.
The day we get back from traveling, come back over. I’ll cook just for you.
I press my teeth together to offset the ache of how badly I want that. And it’s not because the minestrone soup and shepherd’s pie he made was unbelievable, though that is true.
It’s time with him I want.
“Why’d you decide to leave figure skating behind, Viv?” Callum asks as he reclines deeply in his chair. His voice competes with my pulse drumming in my ears. “Other than the privilege of hanging out with me around the clock?”
“I couldn’t pass up Sadie’s job offer,” she says, hugging her legs against her chest. “A chance to work with her, be part of what she’s building here with you guys…
It’s special, you know? One of those lightning-in-a-bottle opportunities.
Figure skating isn’t going anywhere.” She reaches across the wide valley between our chairs for my hand. “Fury all the way!”
Nic and Callum lift their drinks. “Here, here.”
My breath sticks in my throat. I tuck my phone under my thigh and give her fingers a squeeze. “Fury all the way.”
The reminder of what I need to be focusing on couldn’t have come at a better time.