Page 58 of Stick By Me
“I-I will. I’m feeling really focused, Mr. Dupont. I think my game is spot on right now and I’ve been practicing my a—, Imean my tail off.” I winced. Shit, way to almost cuss in front of one of hockey’s best coaches.
He chuckled into the phone. “You can say ass to me, Archer. Believe me, I’ve heard worse. Much worse.” He sucked in a breath. “Anyways, I wanted to touch base and let you know you’re on the right track. We’re out on the road right now, or I’d tell you in person.”
My pulse sped up a notch. This was weird. I’d never heard of an NHL coach going out of his way like this. But then, he’d been friends with my mom. “I really appreciate it,” I said, “It um, it means a lot to me.” Especially since my fucking father wasn’t speaking to me, as far as I could tell. Though, I wasn’t speaking to him either.
Rustling threaded through the phone. “Well, I’ve got to go. Talk to you soon and keep up the good work.”
“I will. Thanks.” I drew a deep inhale, calming my racing heart.
“Goodnight.” He hung up the phone.
“Well?” Leo set a plate of salad down in front of me. “That sounded really good.” He dished out a thick slice of meatloaf for me and spooned mashed potatoes onto my plate.
“It was. He said if I kept playing the way I did tonight, I’d definitely secure a spot in development camp.” I poured gravy over my meatloaf and potatoes, the savory aroma of the gravy flooding my nose. “God damn, Leo, this smells so good.”
He picked up his knife and fork and cut into his meatloaf. “Yeah? It’s a special recipe with a little bit of heat. I hope you like it.” He stuffed a bite into his mouth.
After pouring my wine, I took a bite of meatloaf, the aftertaste holding the spice. “Oh my God, so good.” I sipped my wine, thinking on the phone conversation. “It’s a little odd for an NHL coach to call someone like me, isn’t it?”
Leo dunked his fork into his mashed potatoes and gravy. “Why is that? You’re a player he’s interested in bringing onto the team.” He stuffed food into his mouth.
“But usually the teams have scouts who talk to coaches and work out details, you know?” I ate some potatoes. “You think it’s because he knew my mom?”
“Sure, why not? Maybe he’s been watching out for you since she died. You did say she was the one who supported your hockey.” Leo sipped some wine, then peered at me. “Hey, have you heard from your dad?” He set his fork down.
“No, I haven’t.” I huffed. Jonah had asked the same thing before we left the locker room.
“Have you tried calling him?” He cocked his head, studying me.
I sucked in a deep inhale. “No, I haven’t.” I pushed potatoes around in my gravy, tension rising in my gut. I knew what was coming next.
“Maybe you should call him.” Leo grabbed my hand, now fisted on the table. “He should know what’s going on, don’t you think?”
“What, with Mr. Dupont?” Tensing my brows, I stared at Leo. “My dad couldn’t care less. He’d try to poison it somehow.” I scoffed, lowering my gaze to my plate, heat filling my chest. “He’d probably tell me the only reason they’re showing an interest is because of Mom.” I gritted out, “Fuck that.”
“Hey, hey, hey, Archer. Settle down. It was just a suggestion.” He squeezed my hand and moved his chair closer to mine to drape his arm over my shoulders. “Forget I said anything, okay? Let’s have a good night. Let’s celebrate all the great things coming your way.” His forehead wrinkled.
I peeked at him. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Leo.” I clenched my jaw for a beat. “It’s just I think one of the reasons I’m playing better now is because I’mnottalking to my dad.” I wound my fingers around the stem of my wine glass, then swirled the crimson liquid. “I’m afraid one bad conversation with him will make me lose my focus and I’ll fuck this whole thing up.”
He kissed my cheek. “I’m sorry your relationship with yourdad is so messed up. I know some of Axel’s friends have situations like that.”
“Yeah, I heard Milo has an asshole for a dad.” I drank some wine down, my mind going over the conversation I’d had with Ryder the first time I’d met him. Maybe that was one of the reasons I’d been drawn to Milo. I glanced at Leo, his brows knitting as he watched me. “I’m okay, Leo.” I pecked his lips with mine. “Really, I’ll be okay. I don’t need my dad to call me after every game, or even after the good games.” I had someone else who’d call. And hemattered. Richard Dupont could change the trajectory of my life.
“Yeah, okay.” He slid his arm off my shoulders and shifted his seat back. “Now, let’s eat up before it gets cold.” He held up his wine to me. “And let’s toast the best damn D-man on the Devils.”
“Okay, you don’t have to go that far.” I chuckled. But tonight, it might have been true. I’d even outplayed Bransky.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LEO
After dinner, Archer helped me clean up the dishes. It was so nice having him in my home and something about doing domestic chores with him, well, just seemed right. As I washed, he dried and figured out where everything went. It was comfortable, but then being with him was always that way. Like the missing piece of my life had dropped into place. I watched him sliding a pan into a lower cupboard and my heart warmed. I wanted him here more. I wanted us together more, like this. Was I falling for him? Hell yes. It might even already be love, which was crazy since I didn’t fall in love this quickly. Ever.
“So, what’s next on the agenda?” He took the last utensil from me and dried it.
“Movie on the couch?” I wiped up the area around the sink, then set the sponge into a holder suction-cupped to the side of it.
He wedged the spatula into our round, bamboo holder by the stove and faced me. “So, here comes a big question. What sort of movies are you into?” He cocked a brow.
