Leo: A More Than Series Spin-Off

by McLean, Jay

My darkness? Eyes narrowed in confusion, I watch her, and I wait.

  “Am I gossiping?” Miss Sandra asks, but it’s not a question. Not really. And she is. Though I won’t call her out on it. Shaking her head, she gets out of the booth. “Well, I should stop. You know what they say about gossip?”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Who gossips to you, will gossip of you.” She disappears again, leaving me with an untouched meal, an unfinished book, and about a million questions floating through my mind.

  When I leave an hour later, Miss Sandra’s outside on one of the tables having a smoke break. “See you tonight, baby,” she calls out.

  I’m in no rush, so I sit beside her, keep her company. “You work too much,” I tell her. “You’re here all the time, literally.”

  She pushes into my side. “I need the work,” she says. “Got three babies at home, and my husband’s life insurance barely covered his medical expenses.”

  There’s a lot of information to process in that one sentence. Miss Sandra is a mother, was a wife—now a widow—and whatever caused her husband’s death was either a terminal illness or something that needed, at the least, stays in hospitals, or at the most, operations, failed ones, maybe even multiple. “I’m sorry,” I tell her.

  She’s quiet a beat as she takes a drag, exhales it to the side so it doesn’t get to me. “God has a plan for all of us,” she says.

  I clamp my lips together because she’s the last person who needs to hear my opinion on that.

  “What about you?” she asks. “You got any brothers or sisters?”

  “Five brothers, one sister.”

  She chokes on an inhale of smoke and thumps her chest, her eyes watering. “That’s a lot of mouths to feed,” she cracks. “Your parents must do well to support y’all, with college and all.”

  “It’s just my dad,” I tell her, giving her more about me than I have anyone else since I got here. “Mom passed about seven years back… Non-smoker her entire life, and she died of lung cancer.” Which is just one of the reasons the God theory is bullshit. Either that or God gets to pick and choose, and that doesn’t seem fair.

  She clucks her tongue. “Well, shit, baby,” she huffs, making a show of stubbing out her lit cigarette on the ground. “I’m sorry.”

  I chuckle at her response. “It’s okay.”

  Like myself, Miss Sandra doesn’t seem to mind the silence between sounds. After a minute or so, she asks, surprising me, “What’s your name?”

  I laugh. All this time she’d been taking care of me, and I never once told her my name. “Leo.”

  She nods. “Short for Leonard? Leopold? No. Leonardo?”

  “Nope, just Leo.”

  “Leo, the lion,” she muses. “King of the animal kingdom.”

  “I’m far from a king,” I murmur, looking down at my hands.

  Miss Sandra hops off the table and moves toward the door. “Someday, Leo, you’ll be a king in someone’s kingdom.”

  She pushes open the door, and I ask, stopping her in her tracks, “What did you mean before? About my darkness returning?”

  Dropping her hand, she props the door open with her back. “The first night you came here, you said you were waiting for your darkness to fall… Miss Mia Mac—she was what you were waiting on, right?”

  Shaking my head, I get to my feet. “Mia’s not my darkness,” I tell her. “She’s my sunrise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mia

  When I wake up, Leo’s already gone. Not surprising. I wait an hour for him to return, and when he doesn’t, I take the ATV to where we’d left his truck the night prior. We deemed it safer to walk back to the house than to reverse the entire way, only having the rear lights guide us. I know exactly where the truck is: the halfway point between my house and Holden’s. We’d been to that exact spot so many times I could find it with my eyes closed.

  When I get there, Leo’s truck is gone.

  And when I get back to the house, Leo’s already here.

  So is Holden.

  Sitting on one of the beams of the porch, the first thing Holden says to me is, “Why are you on my ATV?”

  “My battery’s shot.” I shrug as I hop off. “What are you doing here?”

  He doesn’t get up, as if he’s found his spot for the day, and that’s where he’s staying. “Came to see how you guys were.”

  You guys. As in Leo and me. As in the two of us. Together. But apart.

  Leo hasn’t turned to look at me, too busy fondling his wood.

  “I’m good,” I say, walking toward them. This is… unchartered territory. Having the only two boys who mean anything in my life in the same space—it’s… awkward.

  And that awkwardness only worsens when Holden says, as if they’d been talking without me, “Is it, like, a travel team?”

  Leo lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s not a travel team… or whatever?” I ask, climbing the parts of the porch I know are safe. Leo doesn’t move his head, but his eyes shift, watching my steps, watching me. He doesn’t look away until I’m safely seated on another beam.

  “Leo was telling me he was going home this weekend.” Whatever look washes over my face has Holden quickly adding, “Just to watch his little brother play, and then he’ll be back.”

  Could he sense it? The sudden dread I felt in that one statement, at the thought that Leo was leaving? After last night, I kind of didn’t want him out of my sight, which is going to be hard, considering we’re still trying to keep our distance.

  I think.

  My phone rings in my pocket, and I ignore it. It’s been going off all morning.

  “When are you leaving?” I ask Leo. I can see Holden watching me, confused.

  “Thursday,” he deadpans, then rifles through a paper bag in front of him. He pulls out a handful of different colored paint swatches, and without looking at me, holds them out between us. “Your grandpa wants you to pick the paint color for the new siding.”

  I take them from him—all different shades of grays and blues—and ask, “When are you coming back?”

  “Maybe Sunday.”

  “Maybe?”

  His eyes flick to mine, but he doesn’t respond.

  “Do you play baseball?” Holden asks him.

  “I used to,” responds Leo. “And basketball. Football. Wrestling.”

  “Oh, so you’re one of those assholes who’s good at everything,” Holden jokes. “I hate guys like you.”

  Leo laughs. Actually laughs. “I didn’t say I was any good. Hence the used to.”

  “Right.” Holden grins. “So, what’s your thing?”

  “My thing?” Leo asks, marking a dot on a piece of timber, then sliding the pencil next to his ear between his cap and temple.

  “Yeah, your thing,” Holden answers, before pointing to himself. “Like my thing is pussy.”

  “Holden!” I gasp, which gains a chuckle from both of them. Are they… friends? I don’t know how I feel about this.

  “She’s such a prude,” Holden says.

  “Nah,” Leo responds, running the backs of his fingers along my exposed knee. “She’s fucking adorable.”

  Heat burns my cheeks, and I look at my best friend, eyes wide, because what? Before anyone can respond to that statement, my phone rings again. And again, I ignore it. This time, Holden doesn’t let it slide. “Damn, Mia Mac. You ghosting a guy or something?”

  I roll my eyes. “They’re not after me.”

  “Wrong number?”

  Shaking my head, I nod toward Leo. “They’re looking for Leo.”

  “Me?” Leo’s eyes meet mine.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Holden throws his hand out, requesting my phone. I hand it over to him, and he uses my pin to unlock it. His thumb flicks across the screen, scrolling through pages and pages of unanswered calls. “All these girls been calling for him?” He looks at Leo with admiration. “Well, yeah, I guess after last night…”
>
  “Girls sure love a bad boy,” I mumble.

  “Don’t I know it,” Holden almost sings, raising his fist for a bump from Leo.

  Leo shakes his head, amused, and gives my best friend what he wants.

  “What do you know about being a bad boy?” I accuse.

  “Fine.” Holden rolls his eyes. “They love a good ol’ country boy, too.”

  It’s new—the sound of our mixed laughter—and it’s also nice. Real nice.

  And while Holden’s laughing, I can tell that he’s jealous at the attention Leo’s getting, even though Leo doesn’t seem to have any form of a reaction. “Yo, check out this girl I hooked up with,” Holden says, taking his phone from his pocket. “She keeps sending me these pictures…”

  Leo lifts a hand. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “For real?”

  Leo focuses on drilling holes in the spots he’s just marked. “I’m sure the pictures aren’t meant for anyone else’s eyes.”

  I smile at him, but my words are for Holden. “See? Leo’s a good boy.”

  Leo looks up, his eyes locked on mine as he chews his lip. He quirks an eyebrow, just one, and then he smirks. “I can be bad, too, Mia. You just say the word.”

  What does that even mean?

  Holden’s looking between us, his eyes bugging out of his head, and then he leans back, his arms wide, shouting, “The sexual tension on this porch is ASTRONOMICAL!”

  I pick up a screw and throw it at his head. “Shut up! Papa will hear you!”

  Leo chuckles, already focused on his work again.

  “I’m cool to pull these girls’ numbers from your phone, right?” Holden asks, even though he’s already doing it.

  “I don’t care,” I tell him. And since he’s busy, and Leo’s busy, I look over the paint swatches, dividing them into two piles. Heck no and Maybe.

  Besides the occasional sound of the drill, we all remain quiet. Until Holden says, “Wait. Why do you have Brent Silva’s number in here?”

  I practically jump off the beam and try to grab my phone from him, but another beam is blocking me, and suddenly, the drilling has stopped.

  Holden won’t shut up. “There are incoming calls from him. Ones you actually answer. Hang on. Twenty minutes?” My cheeks flush because I know what’s about to happen. He’s about to tease me, and that teasing will turn to torment.

  “Holden, give me my phone!”

  He holds it farther away from me—as if I could actually reach.

  Leo’s drilling again. And when I look down, he’s not drilling into a marked spot, he’s just… drilling.

  “Have you been holding out on me, Mia Mac?”

  I sigh, resigned, and sit back on the beam. “He’s called a few times, yes. And he’s asked…”

  “What?” Holden pushes. “Asked to see your tits?”

  The whirring of the drill gets louder, and when I chance a peek at Leo, his eyes are squinted, jaw tense.

  “Shut up, Holden! Don’t be crass. And no. He’s asked me out on a date, okay? That’s it.”

  Holden’s silent a beat. “So, are you going to go?”

  The drilling stops for no other purpose that I can see besides Leo wanting to hear my answer.

  I cross my arms, my head bowed, embarrassed. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s not a bad guy,” Holden says. “From what I remember, anyway. Maybe you should go. Get some experience before you go back New York.”

  “Experience?” Leo speaks up, but his voice is so low I barely hear him.

  “With dating,” I tell him. “I’ve never…”

  “She’s never been on a date,” Holden finishes for me, and then to me, he says, “You should go.”

  Leo picks up the piece of wood he was drilling random holes into and flings it behind him. It lands on the driveway unceremoniously. Then he picks up another piece, the same size. He doesn’t mark the spots on this one. Just drills away. One hole after another.

  “So?” Holden urges. “Will you go?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I’m hesitant.”

  “You’re scared,” Holden says, and I really wish we weren’t having this conversation with Leo right here. “Talk it out with me. What are you scared of?”

  I groan out loud, and it makes Holden laugh. “Where’s your mom when I need her?” I mumble.

  “Where’s yours?” Holden retorts.

  Leo’s head snaps up; his eyes thinned to slits as he stares down Holden. I tap on his arm, tell him, “He’s kidding.” Leo accepts my word and goes back to his task. I’m so used to Holden’s snide remarks about my mom; I just let them bounce off of me. Besides, his animosity toward her only shows how much he cares. It’s like his weirdo version of love language if he could actually love.

  Holden shakes out his hands, looks up at the ceiling. “Okay, I’m about to channel my inner Tammy. Give me a minute.”

  “This’ll be good,” I mumble.

  I give him the minute he asked for, and when it’s time, his eyes settle on me. “The most important thing about dating is respect.” Well, I wasn’t expecting that. “And respect goes both ways. But with you, Mia, it’s more important that you find someone who respects you and treats you the way you deserve.”

  There’s a sudden ache in my chest, and I don’t know where to look. “What about… the physical stuff?”

  Leo makes an indescribable sound while Holden blows out a breath. “You do whatever you’re comfortable with,” Holden says. “If you want to hold hands, that’s fine. If you want to let him kiss you, that’s fine, too. As far as letting him touch you—”

  The drill whirs, followed closely by a “Fuck!” from Leo. When I look at him, he’s got a finger in his mouth.

  “You good, bro?” Holden asks him.

  Leo shakes out his hand as he licks the blood off his lips. “Yep.”

  Holden returns his focus to me. “Don’t let him touch you. Not on your first date.”

  I trail my gaze from Leo, who’s focused on his wood again, and look up at Holden. “Is that where you stop on a first date?”

  Holden laughs. “I don’t date girls like you, Mia.”

  I rear back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You jerk!” I almost shout. “What’s wrong—”

  “What I mean is…” He cuts in, his hands out, palms up in surrender. “I marry girls like you.”

  As pathetic as it is, I surrender to his charm. “Awww.”

  “I mean, I’ll probably end up marrying a few of them, but still…”

  I throw another screw at his head.

  He laughs.

  And Leo…

  Leo walks away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Leo

  Mia’s walking away from the barn when I return from breakfast the next morning. She offers a wave, I do the same, and I expect her to go back to the house. She doesn’t. She waits for me where the porch steps used to be, and so I get out of the truck, meet her there. “Hi,” she says. She’s in flip-flops and red plaid pajamas: short shorts and a button-down tee, and damn if it isn’t cute as hell. “You go to the diner for breakfast?”

  I nod.

  She has one eye squinted, trying to block out the sun as she looks up at me, so I take a step to the side, block it for her. “How was it?” she asks.

  I’m never here for meals, and obviously, she’s worked out where I go, but this is the first time she’s acknowledged it. “It was fine.”

  “You don’t have to leave to eat, you know. We have food here.”

  I don’t know if this is her version of an invitation, or if she’s just being courteous. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  “Okay,” I return.

  She smiles.

  I smile.

  And now we’re staring at each other, smiling as if some secret conversation is happening between us, though I have no idea what we’re saying. She’s the first to break our stare. “Why are you looking at me?” />
  Because you’re beautiful. “You looked at me first.”

  Mia rolls her eyes, a move I don’t see often. She starts to leave, but I stop her, asking, “Hey, do you have the key to the barn?”

  I don’t miss the way her eyes widen, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, why?”

  “I was just going to have a look around in there and see if there was any material I could use.”

  “Nah.” She waves a hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “There’s nothing for you there.”

  “You sure? Because—”

  “I’m sure,” she interrupts, averting her gaze from me to the porch. “What are you working on today?”

  “Laying the deck.”

  She doesn’t respond, at least not immediately. It’s as if she’s contemplating what to do, what to say. Finally, she turns to me, that one eye squinted again. “You want some help?”

  I don’t bother hiding my surprise. “Really?”

  Nodding, she says, “Holden has to help out his dad, so…”

  “Oh, so I’m like a consolation prize. Got it.”

  “No!” she rushes out, laughing in that way that weakens my knees. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure. “I’ll take it. But you better get more appropriate shoes on.” I crack a smile. “You can keep the pajamas.”

  Her cheeks flush, and her mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Deal.”

  Laying the boards is easy and monotonous and would be so much quicker as a two-person job if I had one of us cutting and the other screwing them in place. Mia suggests we do it that way, but I’m not in love with the idea of her using a drop saw and power tools on her own. I don’t tell her this, obviously, and it’s not that she’s incapable of doing it—she is. It’s just that I like the proximity of our bodies when I’m watching over her the way I am. Mia’s a quick learner, a good listener, and within two hours, I’m almost positive that I could leave her on her own, and the job would get done. At some point, Mia brings out a set of Bluetooth speakers and plays music from her phone, the same songs we used to listen to up on that water tower. I highly doubt the songs playing bring back the same memories for her as they do me, considering this is the music she’s listened to her entire life. For a moment, I get lost in that thought, in the memories she might hold on to.