19. Lucy
Lucy
Igrab my bag from my spot in the back room, then head out of the club.
When I open the door and see Leo standing off to the side, waiting for me, a warm feeling swoops through my chest. There’s a dip in my tummy.
I still can’t believe what he did.
I think about the way he protected me against that creep who groped me.
The way he slammed that guy’s hand on the table and practically broke it.
Heat flashes across my body despite the late-autumn chill in the night air. I didn’t know Leo could be so protective. And lethal.
Maybe I should have known. He’s a hockey player. Hockey games can get pretty rough. I think the players fight sometimes too.
But Leo doesn’t strike me as a violent guy at all. Yeah, he’s big and muscular, but he’s so gentle. And kind. And respectful.
When he’s around me, he gives me space. He doesn’t touch me very much at all, which is honestly really comforting. I’ve been around too many guys who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves, and I hate it.
Even when Leo was pissed about his order at the coffee shop, I didn’t think he would get physical, unlike some other customers I’ve been around.
But seeing him confront that creep tonight was…kind of hot.
He didn’t hesitate to confront that guy. He punished him for touching me without my consent. He crushed the guy’s hand until he apologized to me.
And then he dropped everything to stay the rest of my shift, just to make sure I was safe.
Tingles flash across my body. I’m hot all over now.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
I nod.
“Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car.”
“At the end of the parking lot, by the streetlight.”
He walks ahead of me a couple of steps, glancing around, his gaze watchful.
I bite my lip. He’s like my handsome, lethal bodyguard.
Except he’s not. He’s not anything to you. He’s a new friend who’s just trying to help you out.
The heat inside of me simmers down. The rational part of my brain finally pipes up. I remind myself that this is just how he is. With everyone.
I think back to when he mentioned how he helped his sister when her car broke down. I remember when he mentioned that he inherited the house he lives in from his grandparents and doesn’t charge his teammates rent.
This is just how Leo is. He needs to help people. It’s something he learned from his parents and grandparents.
He’s just being a good guy. Just because he protected me doesn’t mean he likes me more than a friend. I’m sure he’d help a total stranger if he saw them getting harassed too.
Just like he helped you, a total stranger.
A tiny pang of disappointment flashes through me from that little reminder that I’m not special.
But then I think about that flirty exchange we had about hurricane shots…and that comment he made about liking it rough.
My brain instantly went someplace filthy. I imagine being the one sitting on the bar, Leo standing between my legs, and slapping my hand across his face…
I imagined how rough that dark stubble on his cheek would feel against my palm.
I imagined him looking at me with lust in his eyes…then grabbing my waist, pulling me against him, and kissing me, hard.
I shove the thought away. I’m reading too much into this.
I unlock my car door, and Leo opens it for me.
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to swoon at the gentlemanly move.
I start to get into the driver’s seat when he clears his throat. I look up at him.
“Hey, are you hungry?” he asks.
I smile. “Yeah.”
“There’s this twenty-four-hour sandwich place nearby. Wanna go?”
“Sure.”
Ten minutes later, we’re standing in line at the counter.
“What’s good here?” I ask.
“Everything. The big daddy is my favorite.”
I read the description on the menu board. Fried chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, and vodka sauce on a toasted ciabatta roll.
“Okay, that sounds amazing.” I order it, then Leo orders his sandwich. I’m surprised when he asks for a grilled veggie sub with no cheese or dressing.
We sit down at a small table near the window facing the parking lot. A minute later, a worker brings our sandwiches to the table.
When I take a bite, I groan at the burst of flavors. “Oh my god,” I say around a mouthful. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
He grins. “So good, right?”
I take another bite. “Why didn’t you order this?”
“It would put me over my calorie limit for the day,” he says while unwrapping his veggie sandwich.
I almost laugh. “Leo, you’re in fantastic shape. I’m sure one indulgent sandwich wouldn’t kill you.”
He doesn’t laugh like I think he will. He just frowns down at his sandwich and takes a bite. “Every little bit counts. I can’t afford to slip up on my diet. Not if I want to play at my best.”
I’m taken aback at how serious and robotic he sounds. It’s not like he’s eating only junk food for the next week. It’s one sandwich. Is he really that strict?
I suddenly feel guilty for eating this—the one thing he wants but can’t have—in front of him.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Is it bothering you that I’m eating this in front of you?”
He looks at me, his brow lifted in surprise. “No, it’s fine.”
“I just don’t want to rub it in your face.”
The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile. “You’re not. Keep eating.”
I take another bite. “I didn’t know you had to be so strict with your diet to play hockey. But, um, I don’t know much about sports at all.”
“I’m a little stricter than other guys.”
“Why?”
He looks at me for a second without saying anything.
“Sorry, I’m prying. That’s rude.”
“It’s not. It’s just…kind of a messed-up story, and I’m not sure if I wanna make you listen to it.”
“I told you the messed-up story of how I lost my parents and ended up homeless. You listened patiently. It’s only fair that I do the same for you,” I say quietly, hoping I don’t come off like I’m being pushy.
Because I really do want Leo to talk to me, to open up to me. But only if he wants to.
He clears his throat. “It’s a habit instilled in me by my dad. He was a professional hockey player for a long time. He retired due to injury when I was a little kid. Ever since then, he’s made me his project.”
“His project?”
“He’s committed to making sure that I’m the best hockey player I can be. And part of that is being perfect with my training, recovery, and my diet.”
“Oh.” I’m quiet for a second.
He looks at me. “What?”
“Nothing, it just…sounds a little intense.”
“It is. But I’m used to it.”
“What do you eat?”
“Normal athlete food. Chicken breast, lean ground beef, grilled fish, eggs, oatmeal, broccoli, sweet potatoes, Greek yogurt, protein shakes.”
I make a face.
He smiles. “Gross, right?”
I nod. “Sorry, I guess I’m not a very healthy eater.”
“That’s fine. You should eat whatever you want.”
“So should you.”
“Not if I want to play hockey. I can tell the difference when I slack off and eat mostly fried and processed foods. I’m sluggish and tired.
I’m slower on the ice. It sucks, but nutrition makes a difference.
” He looks at my sandwich. “I’d eat that every day if I could, but I want to be a top-level player more than I want to eat food that tastes good. ”
I’m shocked at how he puts it. That’s so hardcore. But I guess it makes sense. He’s a college athlete on the verge of becoming a professional athlete. Those are high stakes, and he needs to be at his best.
Still though. He’s young, fit, and healthy. I bet he could let himself eat what he wants more frequently.
“So you can’t eat your favorite food?”
He shakes his head. “Not very often.”
I think about that time he came to the diner alone, and I waited on him. I’m pretty sure he ordered a cheeseburger and fries. And a milkshake too, I think.
“I let myself indulge sometimes. Like when I go to the diner with my teammates, I’ll get a milkshake. Or when I want to piss my dad off.”
I take in the hard edge to his voice when he mentions his dad.
“Do you get along with your dad?”
“Not really. He’s not a very warm guy.”
“But you’re his son.”
Leo glances off to the side, through the smudgy window, into the darkened parking lot. “To him, I’m a hockey player first and a son second.”
That’s so…unloving. And so unlike what a dad should be.
“The most important thing to him is making sure that I’m the best, just like he was. His legacy means a lot to him. And he wants me to carry that on.”