“Will you tell me about her?”
“What?”
“Will you tell me about your mom?”
My throat goes tight, tears stinging my eyes again. Because I’m so damned glad I got to meet this Leo.
Because I’m…
So freaking gone for him.
He waits patiently for me to get my head together and then I tell him all about my mom—how being fifteen minutes early was on time, how she made the best cinnamon rolls on the planet, how she always found time to read to me.
I tell him how she helped me make flash cards for a big test in high school and how she picked up extra shifts as a cleaner so I could get the prom dress I dreamed of.
I tell him how she never, not for one moment, ever made me feel like I was unwelcome.
Something I know that Leo didn’t have.
So, as we finish our main courses, I ask him about hockey and his journey to the NHL.
I learn that he did have some good people in his life with his billet families, one of whom still comes to his games every time he plays against Minnesota.
I learn that his other teams weren’t like the Grizzlies, that he and Smitty, Aiden and Gray, Sawyer and Ryan are building something special here—though, then again, I already knew that, didn’t I?
What with Luna and Faye and Kailey and, now, Lainey.
And me.
I’m part of it too.
Along with Reese and Ollie and…Skye or Reed.
My heart so damned full, I’m glad when he changes the topic to funny locker room antics, this one surrounding Aiden’s lucky pregame snack of a gas station hot dog and a loose ketchup lid.
We laugh through dessert, linger as the sun fades, and when my yawns come fast and furious, we pack up, walking lazily back to the car.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Anything for you.”
The drive home is short, but I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until he’s lifting me out of the car.
“I can…”
“Hush,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”
He does.
Firmly.
So, I just rest my head on his shoulder, let him carry me into my bedroom.
But when he tucks me in and starts to leave, telling me he’ll see me tomorrow, I call out his name.
“Yeah, Mama?” he asks, crouching back down and stroking his fingers through my hair.
And God, I love his touch, love the way he calls me that, love…
