Page 75 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“What is going on?” I ask.

“That’s Leo’s dad,” Nick says.

I turn to Nick. “Why is he arguing with Leo? He looks so mad.”

“He’s probably laying into him about the way he played tonight,” Nick says.

I lean back, stunned. “But Leo played incredibly tonight. He got three assists.”

I take in how pissed Travis, Nick, and Blake look as they glance over at Leo and his dad, who are still talking in the parking lot.

“Leo’s dad’s a jerk,” Blake says. “No matter how well Leo plays, he always has something negative to say.”

I think back to when Leo took me to that sandwich shop, and he opened up to me about how hypercritical his dad was of him. I knew it was bad then, but to see it play out in person in front of me is wrenching.

I take in the hard expression on Leo’s face. He looks pissed… but also hurt. Pain radiates in his rich brown eyes. I can see it all the way from where I’m sitting.

“His dad makes him meet up after games so he can go over all the stuff he did wrong and how he can play better,” Blake says.

“That’s insane.”

“Yeah, it’s fucked up,” Nick mutters. “But Leo deals with it.”

“He shouldn’t have to,” I say.

Leo is an incredible hockey player. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him play in person, but it’s clear how skilled and talented he is. And he’s been drafted by a professional team. He’s one of the best college hockey players in the country—good enough to play pro. And that’s still not enough for his dad?

I look back over at Leo and his dad. He starts wagging his finger in Leo’s face again. That angry, pained look flickers in Leo’s eyes.

A protective feeling shoots through me. I can’t just sit here and watch his dad berate him.

I shoot up from the table and dart out of the diner. When I walk over to Leo, his dad stops talking. I glare at him. Then I touch Leo’s arm.

He looks down at me. The angry look in his eyes fades instantly. His brow lifts the slightest bit, like he’s surprised to see me.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He swallows. “Yeah. Fine.”

I look over at his dad, my gaze hard. “We’re in the middle of eating. Are you done talking to Leo?” I ask, my tone pointed and impatient.

He frowns at me and clears his throat. “Yes.”

He walks over to an expensive-looking luxury car a dozen feet away. When he goes to open the door, he looks over at Leo. “Don’t forget about the gala. I expect to see you there.”

When he drives off, I grab Leo’s hand.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m sick of this.”

I hold his hand in both of mine. He looks at me. My chest aches at the pained look in his gaze.

“That looked like an intense conversation,” I say gently.

“That was my dad just telling me how much I sucked, like always.”

That protective feeling inside of me sharpens, shifting into anger. “He had no right. You played amazingly tonight. I watched the whole game. You were incredible.”

That hard look softens as he studies me. He looks down at our joined hands. For a second, I’m nervous. I wonder if he thinks this is too much. Maybe I should let go of him…