“When did you get so good at this?”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say when I see you next week.”
“Next week?”
“I’m driving down. They don’t need me for a few days.”
“You’re driving across the country for a few days?”
“I’m driving across the country to support my girlfriend as she makes a professional hockey team.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Seems like a good use of my time.”
I’m grinning now. I can’t help it.
“What if I don’t make it?”
“Then I’m driving across the country to see my girlfriend anyway.” His voice drops slightly. “And maybe to remind her that she’s the most dangerous player I’ve ever shared the ice with. Contract or no contract.”
“Zane-”
“I’ve got to go. Coach is calling. But Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens? You’re already exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
The line goes dead.
I sit there for a long moment, something terrifying and wonderful expanding in my chest.
35
LEONORA
I hear the car pull into the driveway at 11:47 PM.
My mother went to bed hours ago. The house is dark except for the kitchen light I left on, and I’m sitting on the front porch in my pajamas like some kind of Victorian heroine waiting for her soldier to come home from the war.
Ridiculous.
I don’t care.
The rental car door opens and closes. Footsteps on the path. And then he’s there, standing at the bottom of the porch steps, looking up at me.
He looks exactly the way he did the first time I saw him without a helmet: dark eyes and the kind of face that makes people turn their heads without knowing why.
He’s also holding a six-pack of beer and a box of donuts.
“What,” I say, “no flowers?”
“You’re not a flowers person.” He climbs the steps, sets the beer and donuts on the porch railing, and stops in front of me. “You’re a ‘I just got a professional tryout and I’m going to pacearound my childhood bedroom for days’ person.”
“I’m not pacing.”
“You texted me seventeen times today.”
