Page 37 of Hard Check
Dawson realized he was halfway across the console. He sat back. Leo’s lips twitched.
They drove to Leo’s apartment without the radio. The silence was different from the truck ride over. Charged, but not uncomfortable.
He pulled into the lot and parked. Leo didn’t reach for the door.
“Thanks for tonight,” Leo said. He said it straight, no spin. “The meat raffle thing. That was good.”
Dawson looked at his hands on the wheel. “I’m glad you liked it. Stick around and you might realize small towns are fun in their own way.”
“Yeah.” Leo paused. “I think I’m starting to.”
He got out, closed the door, and leaned down through the open window. He smelled like the bar and the cold and himself.
“Drive safe, Dawson.”
Dawson waited until Leo was inside. The apartment light came on, a yellow square on the third floor. He sat with the engine running, the taste of Leo still on his lips as he thought about when he could see Leo again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The igniter had a trick to it. You had to hold the dial past the click, count to three, then back off and let the gas catch. Leo had figured it out during his second week here, but the timing still pissed him off. He was holding the dial and counting when his phone lit up on the counter, and he grabbed it with his free hand without checking the screen because he already knew.
“Mijo.” Carmen’s voice came through brisk and focused, the way it did when she was annoyed with him. “I tried you yesterday.”
“I had practice.” The igniter caught with a low whomp. Leo set the dial to 400 and straightened. “Then a team thing after.”
“A team thing. What kind of team thing?”
“Dinner. At a teammate’s place. Ford, the starting goalie.”
“Is that the one with the daughter?”
Leo paused. He hadn’t told her about Charlotte. Which meant she’d been doing her own research, scrolling through the Stags’ social media or calling someone who could give her the roster breakdown she wanted. “Yeah. That’s him.”
“Good. Good that you’re making friends.” A beat. “Have you talked to Phil this week?”
And there it was. Three questions in, right on schedule. Carmen never led with the agent. She warmed up first, circled the perimeter, asked about food and teammates and whether he was sleeping enough, and then the real question landed, like she’d just thought of it.
“Not this week.”
“Leo.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. The season just started. Nobody’s making moves right now.”
“You don’t know that. Things happen. I was reading this morning that Tampa just lost a winger to a torn MCL, and I thought?—”
“Mom.” He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I can’t call my agent every time someone in the league tweaks a knee. That’s not how it works.”
“I’m just saying you should stay on his radar. You don’t want him forgetting about you up there.”
A pause. Then, quieter, the brisk efficiency stripped out of her voice for a beat. “Mijo. The average career is five and a half years. Five and a half. You are already twenty-eight. The window does not stay open forever, and we have watched too many of your dad’s old teammates end up selling insurance because they didn’t make the most of the time they had in the league.”
Her concern hit him in the chest. Logically, he knew there was part of her actions that were fueled by fear. She didn’t want Leo to feel like he’d squandered his time on the ice, wanted him tohave something to show for it when he could no longer play. But he was starting to resent her open disdain for the Stags. He was starting to realize they had something special up here, something you couldn’t scout for. The atmosphere in the locker room overflowed to when they weren’t playing, and Leo was starting to fit in. But she’d never accept that.
Then she breathed in, and the management voice came back. “So you call Phil. Tell him you can’t stay up there forever. That’s all I’m asking.”
Up there.Like Wisconsin was a holding cell. Like Port Haven was a place that happened to you while you waited for your real life to resume. A month ago, Leo would have agreed. He wasn’t sure when things had changed, and he wasn’t ready to examine his changed perspective on the phone with his mother.
“I’m on his radar. I promise.”
