I start to pull the door closed but he catches it, crouching down to meet my eyes and eviscerating me with another gentle question, “You’ll be okay getting home?”
I’m okay. I always am.
I have to be.
“Yup.” I tug at the door.
“Harp,” he begins softly, holding it open.
“Does she know?”
His eyes slide away. “No,” he admits and the tendril of yearning twining inside me dies a little, flecking away to ash.
God, Harp. Dramatic, much?
“I should go,” I say, turning away and staring out the windshield.
His voice softens even further. “I haven’t seen Shannon much lately.”
“Right,” I whisper.
“I—things are…busy.” He exhales. “And complicated.”
“Yeah, of course?—”
“Leo!”
My eyes flick to Shannon storming down the driveway. “You need to go.”
“Harper—”
I tug at the door, harder this time, and thankfully, he releases it.
Likely because Shannon is getting closer, and her expression is distinctly unhappy.
I don’t worry about that.
Liar.
Okay, so I don’t worry about what it might mean for Leo.
Also…liar.
Whatever.
I turn on my car, carefully pull away from the curb…
And I run away.
Now that’s the truth.
Fourteen
Leo
The whistle has me jerking my head up, and I half expect a puck to be flying toward me.
But it’s not Smitty waiting to lob an errant biscuit at me or one of the doofuses out here on the ice trying to distract me.
