Leo: A More Than Series Spin-Off

by McLean, Jay

  I’d just come back from my run and walked into the house, thinking everyone would still be asleep.

  He was sitting at the kitchen island, on his phone, wearing silk boxers, nothing else.

  He still hasn’t put on any more clothes.

  “There’s this really cool app for Gen Zs that let you track stocks and crypto-currency,” he tells me.

  Cool story. Oh! By the way, I had my fingers deep in your girl’s pussy last night.

  Obviously, I don’t say that, but it would be fucking rad if I did. Instead, I nod, lick the water off my lips, and refill the glass.

  “You know…” he says, and I wish I could punch him in the throat just to shut him up. “They say you shouldn’t drink too much water too fast after exercise. Especially in the heat.”

  “Have you tried calling Mia?” I ask. “There aren’t a lot of places around here to get food, so…”

  He shrugs. “I tried. Cell service is so bad here. Fucking hick town.”

  My eyebrows rise.

  “No offense.” His eyes widen. “Don’t tell Mia I said that.”

  I lift my chin. “Uh-huh.”

  My phone alerts me to a text, and I read it quickly.

  Lucas: Laney has a last-minute appointment on Saturday so I can’t come to you, but Dad said he’s free. Is that cool?

  I reply:

  Leo: Yep. All good.

  “So…” Drake says, and I lift my eyes to his. “Mia mentioned that you were here to study or something…”

  “Something.”

  “What are your career plans?”

  “Law enforcement.”

  He hisses a breath in through his teeth and clucks his tongue. “You know the pay for law enforcement’s very subpar,” he says, a cocky lilt in his tone while he adjusts the Rolex on his wrist.

  I honestly can’t believe Mia chose this guy. I put the glass to my lips, stare him down. I could take him. Now that I see him shirtless, I’m positive of it. I’m also positive, thanks to his silky drawers, that I have a bigger dick, but that’s irrelevant. Maybe.

  He eyes me for longer than I’m comfortable with, and then he looks down, mumbles, “Nice bracelet.” I adjust the pale-yellow band, knowing exactly why he said it. Last night, when Mia came into the barn, she was still wearing hers. He must’ve noticed. And now he’s seen mine. I don’t bother hiding my smirk. This piece of jewelry made by a little girl sure holds more value than his fucking Rolex.

  Before I get a chance to retort, Mia’s opening the screen door. She looks between us, her eyes wide, fearful. I try to send a silent message that no, I didn’t say anything, even though I really, really wanted to.

  “Hey, babe,” Drake says, jumping down from the stool. He approaches her and goes in for the kiss. I watch her, like a hawk, waiting for her reaction.

  She smiles.

  And then she kisses him.

  And I die.

  A thousand deaths.

  Over and over.

  “Where’s all the food?” he asks her.

  “What food?”

  “I thought you said you were going out for breakfast.”

  “Oh yeah….” Mia says, and I turn to the window above the sink and white-knuckle the edge of the counter.

  “Why are you dressed like this?” he asks her.

  I suck in a breath, try to rein in every single emotion.

  “All my clothes were in my room, and I didn’t want to wake you by going in there.”

  “Of course,” he answers. “So, where have you been?”

  Mia’s tone doesn’t change. “I got caught up on the phone with my grandpa. You know how it is.” There isn’t even a hint of a lie. And now I’m wondering how many fucking times she’s lied to me and I’ve never picked up on it. Like the time she told me she loved me. That’s the biggest lie of them all.

  “Let me get dressed, and we can go to the diner,” she tells him.

  Drake says, turning to me with a smirk I want to punch clear off his face. “Do you want to come? I really don’t mind if you join us.”

  I laugh once, but it’s bitter and harsh and everything in between. “Yeah, I really don’t give a shit how you feel.” I leave through the kitchen door so I don’t have to walk past them, and then I go to the barn, blare music from the speakers, and flop down on the couch, try to focus on what I came here for. I read the same paragraph eighteen times and give up.

  It’s Monday.

  My dad’s not coming until Saturday.

  I have five more days of this hell before I can get the fuck out.

  Five days.

  “Fuck this,” I whisper to the ceiling, then grab my phone from the coffee table. I send Holden a text.

  Leo: How much can I pay you to drive me back home right now?

  Minutes pass with no response, and just as I’m about to check the cost of an Uber, there’s a knock on the door. “Fuck off!”

  “It’s Holden!”

  With a heavy, painful sigh, I unlock the door and sit back on the couch. He steps in, closes the door behind him, and then drops a six-pack of beers on the makeshift coffee table. “If my piece-of-shit truck could make it all the way to your house, I’d do it for nothing. Honestly, man.”

  He knows. He knows about last night, which means Mia told him, and I have no clue what version she’s given him. I reach over, pull out a beer.

  “It’s like, 8 a.m., dude.”

  I glance up at him. “Then why bring them?”

  He shrugs. “Peace offering.”

  “For what?”

  “For what I’m about to say.”

  I put the beer back on the table and suck in a breath, ready myself for whatever blow he’s about to deliver.

  “Don’t fight for her, man. I’m sorry, but she can’t choose you.”

  Mia

  Before leaving Holden’s house, I got on my phone and booked the next flight back to New York and a car service that would get there in time. And then I went home to face the music.

  It was Holden’s idea to go somewhere public. So I took Drake to the diner, and I sat him down and told him the truth: I wasn’t in love with him.

  I’d never be in love with him.

  My heart belonged to someone else, and even though he knew I was speaking of Leo, he never spoke his name.

  Drake suspected as much, and surprisingly, he accepted it. He told me that he flew here with two different expectations of how things would go. We’d either become closer and finally take that next, final step in our relationship… or we’d end it. He’d hoped for the first, but he expected the second.

  Drake and I tried it once—the whole sex thing. My body must’ve known that I wasn’t physically or emotionally ready, and it froze up on me. He kissed my tears away—every single one of them. And then I told him about Leo, a boy who didn’t intentionally break my heart, and I didn’t intentionally break his. Still, hearts were broken, and I was, at the time, in the process of mending said broken heart.

  It was, no doubt, the worst timing.

  But Drake said he understood. So, we dated. And dated. And dated. And never anything more.

  Because everything about Drake was safe.

  Even when the car pulls into the driveway almost seven hours later, and we walk out together, hand in hand, and he kisses me, one last time—there’s no excitement, no butterflies. It’s just… safe.

  The barn door opens, and Leo stands in the doorway, his hands in his pockets as he watches us with zero expression. Drake opens the backseat and throws his bag inside, then turns to me. “Any chance you can get your dad to give me a good reference?”

  I scoff, disbelieving. “You weren’t just with me because of my dad, were you?”

  “No.” He smiles, and it’s genuine. “But I may as well walk away with something, right?” He kisses my forehead and squeezes my hand. “Take care, Mia.”

  I watch the car leave with a heaviness in my heart I didn’t expect. When I turn to the barn door, it’s already closed, an
d Leo’s nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Mia

  For the next two days, Leo and I barely see each other. He’s always working in the barn—where he sleeps now—or disappearing for hours at a time. I don’t know where he goes, what he does, or who he sees, and really, it’s none of my business.

  Holden’s been working like crazy with his dad during the day, so by the time he’s done, he’s usually with that Brianna girl.

  And me? Besides making an appointment for my annual checkup at the dentist, all I’ve done is constantly look up flights back to New York, and then talk myself out of actually booking them. Which is what I’m doing right now when Leo walks through the door. He halts when he sees me, and I drop my phone on the kitchen island, turn back to the oven and look at the lasagna I’ve made from scratch just so I have something to do. “Sorry,” I say, and I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.

  My eyes drift shut when I hear his heavy sigh and then the screen door closing after him. “Your grandpa just called,” he says, and I stand immediately, spin to him, my eyes wide as I wait for whatever it is he has to say. “He’s coming home tomorrow.”

  When my face stretches with a smile, it feels so unfamiliar, like aged leather forming to a new shape. “That’s good,” I say, my voice breaking. I don’t think I’d realized until right this second how desperately I needed my grandpa.

  Leo nods, his gaze dropping. “Probably not a good idea to book a flight back to New York then…” I realize he’s looking at my phone, at the screen that shows the checkout page of American Airlines.

  I shake my head. “I wasn’t. I can’t really go there anyway.” I regret it the moment the words are out of my mouth.

  Especially now that Leo’s looking at me with his eyes narrowed and jaw set, head tilted to the side. “Why not?” He takes one step closer and rests his hand on the island, right next to my phone.

  I swallow my nerves and stare at his hand so I don’t have to look in his eyes. The very first time I sat opposite him on his porch all those years ago, I remember thinking that his eyes gave away too much, but revealed nothing at all. He still has those same eyes, and it takes everything in me not to get lost in them. “It’s nothing.”

  His hand forms a fist, and then he’s cracking his knuckles, one by one. “Why can’t you go home, Mia?” The way he says it… it’s not a question. It’s a demand. And it’s so powerful that I lose my breath.

  “It’s really nothing.” My speech is rushed, because the sooner I get it out, the sooner this will be over. “My dad has a girlfriend who lives with him, and she doesn’t really like me. Or, not me specifically, because she doesn’t know me, but just… she doesn’t like that I exist, I suppose, so it’s um… it’s better that I’m not there… for everyone.”

  Leo’s quiet a moment, but he doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he exhales loudly and says, “Would you have left already—if you had somewhere to go?”

  I shrug, still not looking at him. “Probably.” I wait a beat before asking, “Would you have left? If you had a way to?”

  “Probably,” he responds. “My dad’s coming on Saturday, so...”

  It’s Wednesday night. Which means we have two full days to somewhat live in this semi-awkwardness. “Hopefully, with Papa here tomorrow, it won’t be so bad.”

  He doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t move a muscle, so I look up at him. Into his eyes. Mistake. I can see the hurt, and I don’t know what caused it. “My dad will probably be here around eleven. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to make plans to do something so you’re not around or whatever. I know you didn’t want him to know you were here.”

  Right. I hadn’t thought about that. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Why is it so bad if your mom knows you’re here?” he asks, and he has both hands on the island now, his index finger tapping on the countertop.

  I lean on the sink behind me, my arms loose at my sides. “It’s not about me being here; it’s more where I’ve been. If she knows I’m in contact with my dad then she’ll find a way back into my life, which will be easier since I’m here, and then she can use me to get to his money.”

  “Wait.” His eyes thin to slits. “Back into your life?”

  I nod. “We haven’t had contact since I left your house that night.” I thought I told him all this, but maybe I didn’t, because he’s looking at me like he has so many questions, and he won’t leave it alone until he gets all the answers. “A few days after I left, she called, and before I could explain anything, she said that she was disappointed in me and that I’d embarrassed her in front of all of you, and just… she said some pretty nasty stuff, so… I cut her out of my life.”

  “Good for you,” he says, and there’s the first hint of a smile I’ve seen in days. I miss his smile. And standing opposite him now, I can finally admit to myself that I miss him.

  Subconsciously, I look down at my bracelet, the one that matches his, and I fiddle with the clasp, my mind working to think of something to say to keep him here. Even if he doesn’t talk to me, I just want him near.

  The oven timer goes off, and I catch myself smiling. “I made lasagna,” I say. “Do you want to take some with you… into the barn?”

  Please say no. Please say that you’d rather stay. That you’d rather eat with me.

  I slip on the oven mitts, take out the dish, and set it on the counter between us. “See? I made plenty,” I murmur, and then look up at him, because he hasn’t answered. But then I see his eyes, and I’m suddenly scared because they’re clouded with an emotion I can’t decipher.

  “What are you so scared of, Mia?” he asks, and it comes out a whisper.

  I drop my gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” he says, then clears his throat. “You have all these people in your life who, you say, want nothing to do with you… but then you have me. And I want you. I love you. And you’re pushing me away.” He starts walking around the island, and I panic, retreat. He stops dead in his tracks, shaking his head, his glare raging with fury. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you,” he spits, and then he storms off, doors slam, and a moment later, music blares.

  I stand in the kitchen with my heart in my stomach and tears in my eyes, and Everything! I want to shout, throwing the lasagna in the trash.

  Everything is fucking wrong with me.

  * * *

  Holden: Are you on your way? Please say yes!

  Holden: Do you not understand what an SOS EMERGENCY means? She’s talking about breeding rabbits on our land and growing marijuana plants.

  Five minutes ago, Holden had messaged me. Brianna was still at his house, and she wouldn’t leave. I was supposed to take Papa’s truck and come up with an excuse so that when I got there, he had a reason to take her home. But I haven’t moved. Ever since Leo left, I haven’t wanted to get out of bed. I’ve lain on my back, covers over my head, and I’ve cried. I’ve cried until the tears dried up, and my body shut down long enough for more tears to form, and then I cried some more. The absolute last thing that I want is to leave the house and save him from a stage-five clinger.

  I text back:

  Mia: I thought she was a good, innocent little thing?

  Holden: Mia, I swear to God.

  I make up an excuse.

  Mia: I can’t find the keys.

  Technically true, considering I’m pretty sure Leo had them last.

  Holden: Leo has them. And, yes, that means putting your big-girl panties on and having to speak to him.

  A pathetic, pitiful sob escapes me.

  Mia: Why not ask him to save you?

  Holden: He’s not answering my calls or texts.

  Mia: What did you do?

  Holden: Patience. Thin. If you don’t get here soon, I’ll tell everyone about that time I walked in on you making out with your mirror!

  Mia: You would not!

  Holden: It was last year, Mia. It wasn’t even cute.

  M
ia: I’ll be there soon.

  Big-girl panties on, I leave the house, go down the porch steps. Leo’s already out, walking toward the truck. “No!” I shout, and I sound crazy. Great.

  He turns, brow knit.

  “Sorry,” I say, “I just… I need the truck.”

  One eye twitches. “So do I.”

  “It’s for Holden. I need to—”

  “I just called him,” Leo says. “I was deep in study mode and had my phone on silent.”

  “Oh, okay, so… you’re good?”

  He shrugs. “You can go instead.”

  I shake my head, wrinkle my nose. “Don’t really want to have to deal with the girl… not really a fan of confrontation, so…” I start to back away. “Have fun and all.”

  He rolls his eyes and then gets in the truck, not another word spoken. And then I run up the porch and wait for him to leave. Once he’s gone, I lie across the porch swing, and once again, I feel the emptiness of my loneliness laying heavy on my chest. And then I let the weight of it suffocate me.

  I wish, more than ever, that I had someone to talk to. I have no real friends; none close enough that they would sit through hours and hours of me talking about some guy they’d never even heard of. I’ve never spoken about any of this stuff with Papa before, and Holden—he’d be as frustrated as I am. I wish I had parents—ones who actually cared about me. I wish I had a mom who was not my mom. I wish I had Holden’s mom, Tammy. She practically raised me, and she always knows what to do. But it’s been a while since we’ve spoken. Once she left and I moved to New York and she no longer had to watch over me for homeschooling, I felt like… like, I didn’t need to burden her anymore. She used to call. At the beginning, she called a lot, and then slowly, gradually, it stopped. Maybe I should’ve made more of an effort. Pouting, I grab my phone and pull up her number. And then I feel guilty for even thinking about bothering her with any of this. I don’t call her for three years, and then suddenly, I call, and it’s because I’m having boy trouble? It’s pathetic, really.