Page 17

Caleb

We have a private party room at a trendy restaurant and bar, but it’s very crowded since we won and everyone’s family has joined us. Leo slips into the room and, of course, I notice.

It’s not my fault he’s stunning in a gray form-fitting suit with a purple tie that matches our team colors. His tailor needs a raise for the way his ass looks.

The whole get over him, I’m not what he wants thing isn’t going well. Never mind the kiss was epic and I’m sure I have a praise kink because every time he tells me I did a good job, I swoon like an OG cartoon princess.

Even my brain, which usually jumps from thought to thought at an annoying speed, is extra distracted.

I should be paying attention to my teammates, replaying our incredible win.

But it’s difficult to carry on a conversation while tracking Leo’s every move and trying to listen in on what he’s saying.

Wondering if he’s talking about me. I give myself an internal eye roll. I’ve got it bad.

In my peripheral vision, I see Jamal King’s parents approach Leo with wide smiles. They’re friendly but shy like King. They beckon Jamal over, and Leo motions to Mason.

“Come with me,” Mason pleads, and I follow like a dutiful friend, but it’s a toss-up between running away or soaking up any attention Leo is willing to give me.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. It’s good to see you again.” I give them each a quick hug.

“I’m sorry, I called you the wrong name,” Leo says.

“It’s an honest mistake.” Mr. Thomas dismisses his concern. “When I married his mom, Jamal started calling me Dad, so it gets confusing.”

“We had to be here tonight to support Jamal after the last Boston game,” his mom says and Leo nods, but I can tell he probably doesn’t know about their personal connection. “You must be so proud of Mason. The way he stepped in last season and started.”

Leo shifts, and his mouth pulls into an uncomfortable thin line.

“I am. It’s gratifying to watch the results of all of his hard work,” Leo answers with a glance at Mason. I wish I could fix their relationship. I can’t tell if it’s for selfish reasons or not because if they’re closer, I’ll get more time with Leo.

My phone buzzes. “I’m gonna talk to my mom for a sec.” I wave my phone and step away.

Mama B: Great game, Little Bear. I could tell you would win from your aura

Me: I felt great

Me: The team played lights out

Mama B: Take credit, honey, you stopped those goals

Me: When are you and Dad coming to visit?

Mama B: Tell us which game you want us to see

Mama B: Is Mason coming for Christmas this year?

Me: IDK

Me: His dad is here

Mama B: Invite him too. The more the merrier!

The thought of Leo in my childhood home makes my ass sweat. All goalies are quirky and a little crazy. No sane person raises their hand to say “Put me opposite guys slapping pucks at me at a hundred miles per hour.” But my family isn’t normal.

What would he think of my parents’ store and eccentric style? I was the weird outcast kid for years until I met Mason. Mason didn’t give a crap about the crystals and dream catchers all over the house or how my parents would get a call and leave for the shop at all hours.

Mason was attention-starved, and my parents doted on him, so he overlooked their flaws. Leo… I can’t imagine him sitting at the same table as my parents discussing the benefits of acupuncture and Reiki. I have a feeling he’s not into alternative homeopathic healing.

“What did your mom have to say?” Mason startles me.

“Just wanted to tell me good game.” I slip my phone into my pocket.

“Are they coming to a game soon? Am I still invited to the Benz Christmas extravaganza?” he asks hopefully.

“You want to go back to Vermont?” The town is quaint, like a holiday postcard, but there’s not much to do.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you and your dad would have plans.” I gesture at Leo, who stalks over to us.

It’s fine.

Leo will want to stay in the city and do Christmas with Mason. A father/son day.

They definitely won’t want to come to Vermont for a quirky, small-town Christmas.

Leo’s eyes ping-pong between us. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, but unfortunately Mason speaks at the same time.

“We’re talking about going to Vermont for Christmas,” Mason says so quickly it’s hard to understand.

“Oh.” Leo’s silent after that, and it’s soooo awkward.

“See, he hasn’t planned anything. You don’t mind if I go with Caleb, do you?” he asks his dad.

Leo opens his mouth and closes it. It’s like he’s trying to decide the right answer. “I won’t ask you not to go, but I’d like to find time to celebrate together.”

“Maybe you could come to Vermont for a day,” he says to his dad, then faces me. “Your mom always says she’s got an open door and we can invite anyone we want.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

My panic rises as I envision my mom showing Leo all my naked baby pictures. And there are very few of me with clothes since she believes babies are free spirits who shouldn’t be inhibited by society’s constructs, including pants.

Amber eyes assess me, and I’m afraid to get caught in his spell, so I drop my gaze to the floor.

“New York is beautiful this time of year, and I wouldn’t want to impose,” Leo says cautiously.

“Mrs. Benz loves a crowd. I’ll text her.”

Strike me down and bury me.

“Actually, she told me to invite both of you. It’s fine.” I’ll never be able to look Leo in the eye after he sees the extent of my unconventional family, but it’s fine.

Everything will be fine.

Maybe I’ll slip into a quick coma for the holidays and recover just in time for the next game.

It could happen.

It’s probably wrong to invite that type of bad energy into my life.

Leo’s frowning at me but nods his head, and Mason flashes a rare wide smile and that tips the scales, knowing it will make him happy.

I excuse myself, but Leo follows me to an empty cocktail table.

“I’ll try to convince Mason to stay here if it bothers you.” Leo rests his elbow next to mine.

I shift closer, throwing caution out the window.

He hangs his head. “I asked him to come to Montreal the last couple of years, but he always said he had plans. Maybe I should’ve insisted. It’s so hard to know what the right thing to do is. I don’t want to force him to spend time with me, but I let things go on too long.” He cracks his neck.

The surprise must show on my un-poker face. Mason never told me his dad invited him for Christmas.

Leo shakes his head. “I have so many regrets and lost time.”

“You can’t change the past. You can do better in the future,” I say, like I have a clue what I’m talking about.

“If you decide to come, a heads-up that we don’t do a traditional holiday celebration.

My family is the least traditional people, and there won’t be any religious references.

My parents believe organized religion has caused more damage than good. ”

“I’m not particularly religious.” Leo shifts closer, and the heat from his body blankets me. “I get the impression you don’t want me there, and intruding on your family time feels wrong.”

I blow out a breath. “It’s not exactly you.

Well, it is you. Totally you,” I babble.

“My mom will break out the baby book, and you’ll have a hard time taking me seriously once you see naked pictures of me dancing with daisies in my hair like a little doll.

” The words rush out, and I immediately regret them.

Leo’s head tips back as he laughs. I watch his neck extend and wish I could lean in and lick his Adam’s apple.

Focus, Benz.

“See, you already have an image in your head, and you’re laughing.”

He’s so close, his head practically resting on my shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell that my mom was positive I was going to be a girl and couldn’t let the handmade dresses go to waste.”

He made that up.

Leo holds up his hands. “I swear.” He reaches out like he’s going to touch me but stops himself.

He can’t touch me. Not here. Not ever. But that doesn’t mean I don’t crave it. I want someone who can’t help themselves and can’t keep their hands off me. Someone who’s proud to be with me. That won’t ever be Leo.

Even if we did something stupid, it would be a secret.

I’m a terrible secret keeper.

“Tell me the right thing to do, Caleb.” His eyes plead with me, and I love the way my name sounds when he says it. “Should I come to Vermont or find another way to celebrate with Mason? I really don’t know what to do.”

He’s so earnest and conflicted. Everything in me wants to make it better.

“Come to Vermont,” I say.

I hope this isn’t a huge mistake.

Later that night, I can’t help myself.

Me: I’ve been bad

Me: I’m in bed late

He actually types instead of liking my text with the dreaded thumbs-up.

Leo: three ZZZ emoji

I’m playing with fire and wondering how badly I’ll get burned.