27. Leo
Leo
We head to the locker room, strip off our gear, and clean up after managing a win against Southern California State.
“Well done, boys,” Nick says. “Wanna hit up the diner to refuel? I’m starving.”
Blake, Travis, and I say we’re in.
“What’s with the heart eyes you were giving Lucy?” Nick says to me.
I look at him. “Huh?”
He smirks. “Don’t play dumb. I saw how excited you were that Lucy was here to watch you play.”
I fight a smile. He’s right. When Lucy told me she’d be watching us play tonight, I was pumped.
Since she started working for the team, I see her almost every day I’m on campus. It’s awesome watching her thrive in this new job. All the guys on the team and staff love her.
But seeing her at a game is different.
I think of her standing in the tunnel, near the edge of the ice, watching me stretch. That cute, flustered smile she gave me? So fucking adorable.
And the way she cheered me on when I made my first assist of the night. That excited look on her face, how she was jumping up and down for me.
It felt amazing. Like she was in my corner. Like she was here for me.
I instantly feel foolish for thinking that. I’m reading too much into it.
“She’s here for work,” I say.
“Work. Sure,” Nick teases. I throw my glove at him, but he just laughs.
“We’re just friends,” I say.
“Do you eye-fuck all your friends? Because you never look at me the way you look at her, dude. It makes me kinda jealous,” Nick jokes.
I roll my eyes, even though I know he’s right. When I wasn’t focused on the game, I was looking over at Lucy. I loved seeing her expressions, how into the game she was.
“I get the feeling that you’re friends with Lucy the way Blake was friends with Briar,” Nick says.
“Dude, shut up,” I mutter.
“Honestly, I get that vibe too,” Blake says.
I frown at him.
He shrugs. “Just saying.”
I shake my head as I pull off the rest of my gear. Blake and his girlfriend, Briar, have been friends since high school. Before they were a couple, it was obvious that Blake had a crush on her. We all gave him shit for it.
“Lucy and I are friends. Nothing more.”
“It’s okay that you like her,” Blake says. “I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to have a crush on your best female friend. You don’t wanna make things weird, so you downplay it.”
I’m annoyed at how spot-on Blake is. But it’s also kind of comforting that one of my friends has been through this.
“Okay, maybe I do like her a little more than friends,” I admit.
I ignore the shit-eating grin on Nick’s face.
“It’s just complicated, you know? We live together.
I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. And I don’t want to make her feel like she should like me back because I’ve done stuff to help her.
Even though I tell her not to, I can tell she feels like she owes me for helping her. ”
The guys are quiet as they listen.
“Yeah, I get how that’s tough,” Blake says. “But hey, if it helps to know, I think Lucy likes you too.”
A hopeful feeling shoots through me. “Really?”
Blake nods. So do Nick and Travis.
“Didn’t you notice the way she was looking at you the whole game?” Travis asks.
I shake my head. Nick and Blake chuckle.
“She likes you, man. It’s obvious,” Nick says.
I head to the showers to get cleaned up and change back into my street clothes. The whole time, I wonder if my teammates are right. Could Lucy like me too?
* * *
When we walk into the diner, Briar, Poppy, and Anna are already at our usual table.
The second I sit down, Lucy walks up to our table.
“You made it,” Anna says.
Lucy sits down in the chair next to me. Everyone greets her.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she says, then glances around the restaurant. “It’s kind of weird being here as a customer.”
I give her a soft bump with my shoulder. “Welcome to the other side.”
She laughs. We order our meals when the server stops by, then talk about tonight’s game.
My phone buzzes with a text. When I see it’s my dad, my mood instantly nose-dives.
Let's talk about the way you played tonight.
My jaw is tight as I ignore his text. I’m not dealing with his shit right now.
I take a quiet breath and try to push him out of my head. I focus on some joke Nick is telling. Then my phone buzzes again.
Don’t ignore me, Leo.
I exhale sharply,
Me: I’m busy right now.
Dad: No, you’re not. You’re at that diner stuffing your face, aren’t you?
The anger inside of me simmers.
Dad: I’m coming there.
Me: Don’t.
Dad: We’re having this conversation one way or another.
Frustration boils over inside of me. I hate this. I hate that my dad always goes out of his way to remind me that I’m not good enough. I hate how one text conversation with him is all it takes to ruin the good mood I had.
The server drops off our food, but I don’t have time to eat because a second later, my dad texts that he’s in the parking lot.
“I’ll just be a sec,” I say before pushing back from the table and walking off.
He steps out of his black Mercedes. I walk over to him.
“What do you want, Dad?”
He folds his arms over his chest, that disappointed scowl on his face. “You said you don’t want to meet with me the morning after games anymore. So I’m doing this instead.”
My muscles tense instantly. “I didn’t say that. I said it’s pointless for us to meet at all if you’re just going to insult me.”
“I’m not insulting you, Leo. I’m trying to help you play better. And the way you played tonight was abysmal.”
I tug a hand through my hair and let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you think that.”
“I counted two instances where you could have scored, Leo. But you didn’t. You passed the puck to your teammates and let them have the glory, like some spineless understudy.”
“Tell me what you really think,” I say sarcastically.
He glowers at me. “This isn’t a joke. You think you can play like that in the pros?
You think your coaches aren’t going to notice that you blow opportunities to score?
They’re going to see you as a liability if you keep doing that.
They’re going to see you as a player who costs them points. You think that’s a good thing?”
“I know what I’m good at. I’m a good defenseman. I don’t need to score goals constantly to be considered a decent player.”
“That’s just it, Leo. You need to be better than decent. You need to be great. When I was playing in the pros—”
I cut him off with a bitter laugh. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You hate that my style of play isn’t more like yours. You got off on being the defenseman who scored goals, and it drives you crazy that your own son doesn’t play like you.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m disappointed that you’re not playing to your full potential. You need to be giving your all every time you hit the ice. Every time you choose not to do that, you’re risking being labeled a lazy player.”
“I’m not fucking lazy, and you of all people should know that.”
He glowers at me. “Don’t use that language with me. I’m your father.”
Another bitter laugh falls from my mouth. Adrenaline pumps through my entire body. My muscles are tight with stress. This isn’t how a son is supposed to feel around his father. Defensive and on edge. This is so fucked up.
“You know the years of hard work I put into hockey. You know I spent every free minute I had at the rink or in the gym, with trainers and coaches. You know how many times I gave up hanging out with my friends in middle school and high school so I could be the best hockey player.”
He tilts his head at me. “You’re making up for it now in college, though.
” His gaze cuts to the diner. “You’re having your cheat meals with your buddies instead of resting properly.
You think that’s what top athletes do? Drink milkshakes and eat French fries?
You’re a disgrace, Leo. You have a legacy all laid out for you, and you’re going to blow it because you can’t practice some goddamn self-control and discipline. ”
That frustration and anger inside of me finally collide. “Screw you,” I mutter before I start to turn around.
“We’re not done talking.”
“Yes, we are,” I say as I start to walk off. But then he grabs my shoulder and jerks me back.
“Don’t touch me.” I pull out of his grip.
He glares at me before glancing around the parking lot.
I watch as the anger in my dad’s eyes dials back. He doesn’t want anyone to see him losing his shit on his son. Because that would make him look bad. It wouldn’t align with the respected hockey pro he prides himself on being.
He’s always so fixated on his image. He cares more about that than his own family—his own son.
Pain blasts through my chest.
“You gonna knock me out if I try to walk away from you?” I say. “That wouldn’t really align with your hockey family man public image, would it?”
He wags his finger at me. “Quit being a smartass.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t care if the whole world is watching us. I’m sick of doing this shit with my dad.
I look off to the side and into the diner. And that’s when I see Lucy staring at me, a stricken look on her face.
Embarrassment roasts me from the inside out.
I didn’t think I could hate anything more than fighting with my dad…but in this moment, I realize I do.
It’s seeing that heartbroken look on Lucy’s face and knowing that I’m the reason for it.