I sighed and followed her to her beat-up Honda because arguing with Leah was like arguing with a wall. Pointless and exhausting.
She drove us to her apartment in the north end, the one she shared with her roommate who was conveniently never home when Leah decided to stage family interventions. The building was old but clean, the kind of place young professionals lived when they were still paying off student loans.
Her apartment smelled like garlic and tomatoes, something cooking on the stove that made my stomach clench with hunger I'd been ignoring for hours.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the kitchen table.
I sat.
She stirred whatever was in the pot, then grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed me one. “You're allowed exactly oneof these because I'm driving you home. But you look like you need it.”
“Thanks, I think.”
She sat across from me, cracking her own beer, and took a long drink before hitting me with that look. The one that said she had an agenda and I wasn't escaping until she got what she wanted.
“So,” she said. “When are you coming home to see Mom and Dad?”
I groaned. “Not you too.”
“Yes, me too. Mom's been texting me asking if you're eating properly. Dad wants to know when you're visiting. And I quote, 'It's been six weeks since we've seen him, Leah. Six weeks. Tell him to come home.'”
“I've been busy.”
“You're always busy. Come on, Jace. One Sunday. That's all they're asking for. Show up, let Mom feed you, let Dad talk your ear off about whatever project he's working on in the garage, then leave. Easy.”
“I'll go when I have time.”
“You have Mondays off.”
“I have training on Mondays.”
“You have morning skates on Mondays. You're done by noon. Drive out, have lunch, drive back. You can manage four hours.”
I took a drink instead of answering, and Leah's expression softened slightly.
“They miss you,” she said quietly. “And I know you're in your hockey bubble, but they're your parents. Throw them a bone occasionally.”
“I know. I will. Just... not this week. Practice just started and we've got exhibition games coming up and?—”
“Excuses.”
“Facts.”
She rolled her eyes and got up to check the food. “Fine. But I'm telling Mom you promised to visit soon, so now you have to actually do it.”
“I didn't promise?—”
“Too late. Already composing the text.” She pulled out her phone and started typing with one hand while stirring with the other.
“You're the worst.”
“I'm the best and you know it.” She set her phone down and turned to face me, leaning against the counter. “Also, speaking of personal lives...”
Oh no. I knew that tone.
“What?” I asked warily.
“I'm seeing someone.”
