“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Look, I won’t be your problem child. I’m easy. So long as your father doesn’t ship me back to the minors, I’ll be a good boy.”
“He won’t,” she said automatically. Even though she hadn’t been ready to see him again, she wasn’t ready for him to disappear, either. Leo’s eyes widened, and she realized too late that she’d made it sound as if she had inside information. “I meant, I hope he won’t. Or, uh, I think he won’t. Just, uh, speculating.”
Leo nodded, his eyes boring into hers. When he looked at her like that, the years just fell away. They’d been so close for so long. Even if this was all very complicated, Georgia felt herself lean toward him by a few degrees. The connection between them was still there. Like the fishing line her father used when he took the boat out on the Sound. Invisible, yet strong.
Someone cleared a throat, and Georgia sprang up off the bench, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Sorry to startle you,” Becca said quickly. “But Coach is looking for Leo. He needs you to suit up.”
Now Leo leapt to his feet, too. “Really? Why?”
“Bayer isn’t going to play tonight. They want to give his shoulder one more night’s rest.”
“Wow. Okay.” Leo held Georgia’s eyes, and there was so much warmth and happiness in that gaze that Georgia could barely breathe. “Guess I’d better go then.”
“Get on down there,” she whispered. His whole life he’d been working toward this moment. Skating in the NHL. How amazing that it was finally happening, and she was actually going to witness it.
Leo gave her one more smile, and it was so full of joy that her heart skipped a beat. Then he turned around and strode off, his long legs eating up the distance toward the elevator bank around the bend.
“Come back to me, George,” Becca said. “Don’t go toward the light.”
“What?”
“Exactly.” Becca snapped her fingers. “Stay with me, babe. Don’t let the hottie who stole your virginity send you into zombieland.”
“Becca!” Georgia shout-whispered. “Lower your voice!”
Becca gave her a Cheshire cat smile. “He did, didn’t he? Aw! You guys are so cute.”
“Shhhh!” Georgia chided. All she needed was a reporter overhearing this fun little conversation. “Stop.”
“Only if you give me juicy details at home later. Because memories are all the action that you or I are getting lately.”
“Sad but true.”
“So, you have to promise not to freak out, but there’s a cover-up at work here.”
“What?” Georgia asked, trying to shake the Leo-fog out of her head.
“The doctors cleared Bayer’s shoulder. But they think he sprained a toe during the soccer warm-up.”
“Oh, hell,” Georgia swore. “That can’t get out, or we’ll look like idiots. Big Strong Hockey Player Kicks Soccer Ball Too Hard, Misses Game.”
“Be that as it may,” Becca said with a grin, “your ex is having his big-league debut, in spite of the fact that your father hates him.” She put her hand on Georgia’s arm and tugged her toward the owner’s box. “Why is that, anyway? Is it because Leo popped your cherry?”
Yikes. “Not really. You’d never believe it now, but they used to be pretty close. Dad used to give Leo one-on-one sessions at the rink, just for fun. I think Dad kind of looked the other way, you know? Plausible deniability.”
Becca laughed. “I guess if you were a dad, you’d have to.”
“Right. But then after I was raped, I think Dad just couldn’t deal with the idea that I wasn’t a little girl he could protect anymore. The blinders came off. And since Leo was a man . . .”
“Leo was dangerous, or something.”
“Or something,” Georgia said. “And it wasn’t just Leo that Dad treated differently. You know how he calls me Princess now?”
“Yes, and I’m thinking of calling you that, too.”
Georgia poked her in the ribs. “Not if you want to live. Well, he never called me that when I was little. I was Killer to him.”
Becca barked out a laugh. “Oh my god. I have to say—Killer suits you better than Princess. I like that nickname for you.”
“I’d prefer to have no nickname at all. But apparently that’s not an option.”
Becca clapped her hands. “Can I tell Page Six that your nickname is Killer?”
“No!”
She giggled. “Ah well. I would have liked to see that in print.”
“We can’t have everything we want,” Georgia grumbled. “But we can have cheese puffs.”
“You can. Some of us gain weight when we eat things.”
“So I’ve heard. Hell. Now I’m nervous about this game. Leo in the NHL! How am I going to watch?”
“Aw. You’ve got it bad, girl.”
“Do not.”
“Do so.”
Georgia gave Becca a little shove.
“Easy, Killer,” Becca said. Then they both burst out laughing.
* * *
When game time came, though, Georgia retreated from polite company.
She watched the Tampa game alone, from the back corner of the press box. The isolation was exactly what she needed, since no game had ever made her so horrifically nervous before in her life. She watched the game with her seventeen-year-old self, heart in her mouth, fists clenched. Every time Leo took to the ice with the third line she stopped breathing.
Supersized Leo was a sight to behold on a pair of skates. He skated with the same ease he’d always enjoyed, but now it was fueled by even more impressive power and speed. There were years of estrangement between them now, but it was clear that he’d spent most of those years at the rink. He was nimble, even with Tampa’s most aggressive defenseman bearing down on him. Time after time Georgia bit her lip as one enemy or another tore after him only to see Leo escape with the puck, creating opportunities where none had seemed to exist.
It was breathtaking. Georgia said another little prayer of thanks for the privacy of the darkened corner where she stood, because her face was plainly crisscrossed with emotion as often as hockey sticks crossed on the ice. She couldn’t have hid her interest for all the dumplings in Brooklyn. The first two periods passed in a blur. The game was hard fought, and deep into the third period the score was tied 1–1.