“I put my hand in from time to time.” She giggled.
“Make it stop! You’re killing me.”
Becca got quiet. “Why, sweetie? I just wanted to give you an opportunity to talk to him. I think you need to.”
After checking to make sure that the lid was down, Georgia sat down on the toilet. “Bec, I could talk to him without even opening the door. It’s weird to listen to him on the other side of the wall. Last night I was worried he’d bring a puck bunny home and I’d have to listen.”
“Ugh,” Becca said. “I didn’t think of that. Is he the type?”
“Like I’d know? People change, Bec. It’s been six years.”
“Yeah? So how have you changed in six years?”
Georgia snorted. “My jokes are better now.”
“Really? They must have been pretty scary before.”
“I set that one right up for you, didn’t I?”
“Yup. And I appreciate it.”
There was a comfortable silence for a moment before Becca spoke again. “Before, when it was easy to talk to Leo, what was your currency?”
“Our what?”
“Your currency. The little things you shared. You and I have a currency—it’s trash TV and dumplings on the coffee table. What did you have with Leo?”
“A whole lot of sex,” Georgia said immediately.
Becca let out a dreamy sigh. “While that does sound amazing, it couldn’t have been the only thing. The day is long.”
“I’ll have to think about it. I’ve spent a long time trying not to remember all the little things.”
“Why?”
She was going to make Georgia say it out loud. “Because I have always regretted it, okay? Breaking up with him was something I did because I had to. Not because I didn’t love him.”
“Oh, man,” Becca said, and Georgia could picture her shaking her head. “You still love him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know about that.” Liar.
“When you got on the jet and saw his face, how did you feel?”
“Lousy,” she said immediately. “Is it awful that I just don’t even want to be friends? That sounds childish, but it’s so hard to look at him and not remember so many things. He was there when I was the happiest I’ve ever been. And then he was there for the aftermath of the worst days of my life.”
“That’s a pretty potent combination. No wonder you’ve been acting a little cray cray.”
“Have not.”
“Have so. I watched you put six pairs of shoes and four dresses into your suitcase. I didn’t think you owned six pairs of shoes.”
Georgia only grunted. Her roommate was entirely too observant.
“Go hit some balls, babe. The hotel you’re staying in right now is next door to a tennis club. Lessons are only thirty bucks. I picked that hotel for you.”
“Omigod.” Georgia laughed. “So you can be helpful.”
“You have no idea. Now go burn off some of the Thai food the team is having for dinner later. I picked that for you, too. There are four different dumplings on the menu.”
“I take back all the nasty things I said about you.”
“Go already.”
Georgia did as she was told. She made an appointment with a tennis pro for half an hour later. Then she took out her computer and tried to catch up on those e-mails.
TWELVE
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 8TH
21 DAYS BEFORE THE NHL TRADE DEADLINE
PHOENIX, ARIZONA
TOP TEAM HEADLINES:
Scrappy Brooklyn Team Breaks Our Spree. Meanies.
—Denver Sports Network
Leo lay on the bed in his hotel room and tried to rest. But there were several things on his mind that were making it impossible.
The doctor had finally cleared him to play tomorrow night. Yet Coach Karl had not weighed in yet. He knew that bastard wouldn’t, either. Not until Leo had suffered through the next twenty-four hours, wondering what would happen. He just knew he’d be made to wait.
So that was fun.
The other bramble in his side was the fact that Georgia was right next door. And that was just weird. There was a wall between them. A fucking metaphor if there ever was one.
He picked up his phone, which had a new text from his brother DJ. Did Karl seriously punch you? Please tell me Twitter is wrong.
Leo tapped his brother’s name and then hit Call. When his brother picked up, he said, “It’s actually true. I have a bruise the size of Montana on my jaw.”
“Chicks dig that,” DJ joked.
“Hope you’re right.”
“But, Jesus. What did you do to make him so mad?”
Leo was thoroughly sick of this question. “Big picture? No idea. But that night was a shit show. First I told Amy that we weren’t getting back together. She made a big scene. Go ahead. You can say I told you so. I won’t even get mad.”
DJ just laughed. “I’m going to take the high road here, but only because you finally manned up and sent her packing.”
Leo grunted unhappily. “So that was fun. And then Georgia started in on me for making a scene. She got all fiesty . . .” Leo could still picture that fiery look in her eye. Hell. He’d kiss her again right now for it. Some lessons just couldn’t be learned, even with a punch to the face. “And then I . . .”
“What?” DJ asked.
“I . . . I kissed her. Planted one right on her to shut her up.”
His brother erupted with laughter. “Smooth, slick.”
“Right? And that’s when Coach tried to take my head off in front of three hundred people.”
“Man, I miss all the good shit,” DJ complained. “I’m coming to a home game in a couple weeks. Make sure it’s eventful.”
“No can do,” Leo grumbled. “I’m done making waves. Gonna keep my head down and score some goals from now on. Lesson learned.”
“Nah,” DJ argued. “You haven’t learned shit. If you go back to dating Teflon girls, I’m going to punch you in the jaw, too.”
“Dating . . . what?”
“The Amys of the world, moron. I call them your Teflon girls—they’re tough as nails and completely heartless. You’ll never love one of ’em, but they can’t really hurt you, either.”