Leo: A More Than Series Spin-Off

by McLean, Jay

“Nah. He’s just havin’ fun,” he says, then drops his arms to sign for the dumpster.

  “We’ll be back on Monday to collect it,” Brent Silva says, and Leo grunts in response. Brent fixes his eyes on me. “What’s good, Mia Mac?”

  I shrug. “Same old.” And then I shift closer to Leo because this situation is awkward, and it’s not one I ever thought I’d find myself in. Brent works at the hardware store where Leo rented the dumpster, and Brent and I also went on one date, last year. It was the date that made me realize I’ll never be able to feel anything for anyone else the way I feel for Leo. When I went on the date, Leo had been back home visiting his family, and when Brent brought me home, Leo was on the porch waiting for me. It was the first time he told me he loved me. And I was so afraid of everything it meant that I left the next day.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Papa says, coming out of the house.

  “You’re in your church clothes!” I laugh out. In khaki slacks, suspenders, button-up shirt, and a pale-yellow bow tie I sent him a few months ago, Papa looks dapper and way too overdressed for a visit to the dentist.

  Beside me, Leo chuckles. “Looking good, sir.”

  Papa slips on a flat cap and looks up at Leo with a mischievous grin. “Hat or no hat?”

  “Papa!” I whine.

  His eyes snap to mine. “I’m asking The Boy, baba!” Then he goes back to Leo. “Hat or no hat?”

  “I say hat,” Leo says, nodding. “It’s a classic look. The ladies will love it.”

  “Just one lady,” Papa jokes before going down the steps, bow tie, flat cap and all. “Okay, baba, we go! The boy has work to do!”

  I kiss Leo quickly. “We’ll be back soon.”

  “Take your time,” he says. “I’ll be in the barn all dang day.”

  * * *

  Papa stands at the dentist’s reception office, one arm resting on the counter while he strikes up a flirtatious conversation with the woman sitting at the desk. She plays along, amusing him. I roll my eyes when our gazes lock, and then I smile, because really? What can I do?

  We only have to wait a few minutes before the dental hygienist, Miss Annika, comes out of a long hallway and calls my name. Papa perks up at the sight of her, and I get it. I do. Miss Annika is beautiful. The kind of beauty that’s so timeless, even boys Holden’s age like coming to this dentist. Holden included. Papa turns to me. “Let’s go, baba.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re coming in with me?”

  He nods. “Of course. You’re my baby. I take care of you.”

  Bulldust. I want to call him out, but I won’t. He likes to be in there because Miss Annika’s in there. Containing my giggle, I get up and follow after Papa, who’s right behind Miss Annika, down the hallway and into the last room on the left.

  I’ve been coming to the same dentist my entire life, so when Mr. Anderson sees me, his eyes widen a tad. “Mia Kovács! Look at you all grown up!”

  Smiling, I climb into the dentist’s chair. “Hi, Mr. Anderson.” Kirk Anderson has been the town dentist since even before my dad was born. He doesn’t like being called sir and calling him doctor is even worse. I’m not sure why, and I don’t think anyone’s ever asked.

  Mr. Anderson and Miss Annika ask me the same questions most people in town do. Things like what I’m doing now, how my dad is, how I like New York, and then we’re done with the small talk and ready for business. The dentist lowers the back of the chair, orders me to open my mouth, and digs right the heck in. Miss Annika is beside him, handing over whatever tools or instruments he asks for, and about five minutes into my mouth violation, I hear Mr. Anderson mumble, “Are you seeing this?”

  I don’t see or hear Miss Annika’s response, but a moment later, Mr. Anderson pulls away and quietly tells me that I can close my mouth. He removes his mask, and he smiles down at me, but there’s something off about his smile. It’s the same way people smile at me when they hear about my parents—full of sadness and pity.

  I hate it.

  I fear it.

  “Miss Annika and I just need to have a quick discussion,” he tells me. “We’ll be right back. Just stay where you are.” Another fake smile to go with his fake words, and I look over at Papa, who’s slumped in his chair, half asleep.

  When they leave, I hiss, “Papa!”

  He jerks awake, his eyes finding mine immediately. “What’s wrong, baba? Where are the doctor and nurse?”

  “They stepped out, said they had to discuss something.” I shrug. “Maybe I have a cavity?”

  Papa scoffs. “Maybe all that junk they feed you at that school. Not like Papa’s cooking, huh?”

  I smile at him just as the door opens again. Miss Annika steps inside, clicking the door shut behind her. She says, sitting on the stool usually occupied by Mr. Anderson, “Mia.” My name mixes with a sigh. “I need to talk to you about something that’s a little… sensitive.” She takes my hand in hers and motions to Papa, her dark gray eyes filled with worry. “Maybe without your papa in the room.”

  I glance over at Papa as he jerks up, his back ramrod straight. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” I say, repeating his fear. “Do I have a cavity or something?” I laugh, but it’s not from humor. It’s from nerves.

  Tension sucks all oxygen out of the room, making it hard to breathe, and Miss Annika never takes her eyes off mine. “I really do think it’s best to have this conversation in private.”

  I look over at Papa, his brows knit in confusion. And then I shake my head, my eyes meeting hers again. Pulse thrumming against my eardrums, I tell her, “Papa can stay.”

  Besides…

  How bad could it be?

  Leo

  I’ve barely made a dent with all the junk in the barn when Mia and John return. After removing my gloves, I make my way over to the driver’s side of John’s truck to greet Mia. When I open the door, she doesn’t turn to me. She doesn’t move at all. She stares out the windshield, her hands still on the wheel. “Hey… you good?” I edge, and she blinks once, sucking in a breath as if it’s the first time she’s done it in days. Without a word, John hops out of the truck and goes right into the house. “What’s with him? Did the hot nurse knock him back?” I try to joke, and when I turn to Mia again, she’s already watching me.

  Her eyes seem to scan my face, every feature, one by one.

  “Babe, are you okay?”

  She nods once and finally speaks. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”

  “Did they give you drugs or something? You seem a little out of it.”

  “No,” she says, placing her hands on my shoulders to help her down.

  I settle a hand on her waist and close the car door. After a quick check to make sure John isn’t watching, I drop a kiss on her shoulder, right next to the strap of her tank, and then I just hold her. Because I missed her. And because I’ve spent five fucking years wanting to wrap my arms around her. “I get anxious with doctors and dentists,” I tell her. “I think I let it all get to my head, and once it’s all over, it’s like an anxiety dump. Like a carb or sugar dump, you know? It’s exhausting.”

  “Yeah,” she says, pulling away so she can kiss me once. “Maybe that’s it.” She peers over at the barn, and then the dumpster. “You still have a lot to do?”

  “Yeah.” I loosen my hold on her. “I’d ask you to help, but I know you’d rather be spending time with your grandpa.”

  She frowns at that and then heaves out a sigh. Hands soft against my biceps, she murmurs, “I should probably do that.”

  * * *

  “I don’t know what to do, baba!” John pleads, and I press my ear against his closed bedroom door.

  “Papa, it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it,” Mia murmurs, and it’s obviously a private conversation I should not be listening in on.

  I tap my knuckles against the door and wait for a few seconds of silence to pass before saying, “I think I’m going to go to the diner for dinner…” Because I’m hungry as
shit and I wasn’t sure if they had plans or… I don’t know what’s going on. I’d been so busy in the barn that I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten. And neither of them had come out once to check in on me. I don’t think they even left the house—which is odd. Last year, they were always outside, sitting on the porch, watching me work.

  “Okay!” Mia calls out.

  “Did you… want to come with?”

  “No. We’re okay.”

  “Did you want me to pick up something for you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then… I’m going now.”

  “Okay.”

  I wait a few seconds, and when nothing else comes, I quickly shower and leave.

  When I get back, they’re both still in his room, their hushed voices filtering out from under the door. I don’t hear what they say, and I force myself not to listen. All I know is something’s changed, and I have no idea what it is.

  I’ve almost fallen asleep in her bed when I hear the creaking of the door. A crack of light filters through, and then leaves again. Clothes shift, the mattress dips, and then warmth heats my side. “Hi,” I whisper, and Mia jolts, just an inch.

  “Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  I flick on the lamp and then roll to my side to face her. She’s lying on her back, her gaze to the ceiling, eyes lost. “What’s going on, Mia?”

  Her stare doesn’t shift. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ve been weird ever since you came back from the dentist, and then you locked yourself in your grandpa’s room the whole day talking under your breath.”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “Did you hear what we were saying?”

  I shake my head. “No. No clue. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

  Her nostrils flair with her exhale, and she goes back to staring at the ceiling. “It’s just family stuff.”

  “Like, with your dad?” I ask, trying to get something out of her.

  “No. It’s…” Sighing, she turns to her side. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise.” She runs her nose across mine, and then she kisses me, and the kiss erases all worries, all fears, and when her hand slides through my hair, I moan into her mouth, kiss her harder, deeper, until there’s nothing between us—no space, no air.

  No questions.

  Her knees part, and I crawl into the space between them, gliding my hand up her side to remove her top. “We have to be quiet,” she whispers, and I nod. “And quick,” she adds, and I nod again.

  When it’s over, she lays naked in my arms, her head to my chest, mindlessly tracing the outlines of my stomach muscles. “I wanted to run something by you.” I stroke my fingers through her hair. “I want to tell my dad about you—about us—when he comes tomorrow.”

  She sits up a little, resting her forearms on my chest so she can look down at me.

  “I know you said that you didn’t want him knowing because he might tell Virginia, but he won’t,” I rush out. “If I tell him not to, he won’t. And I don’t want you disappearing. I want him to see you.”

  Her gaze drops, lingering on my throat, before moving up again. “Why?”

  I shrug. “Because I don’t want to hide you,” I tell her, shifting loose strands of hair behind her ear to see her face clearer. “And because I like to share all the good things that happen in my life with him.”

  Her lips kick up at the corners. “And I’m good?” she asks.

  “Mia, you’re the fucking best.”

  Her head drops, her giggle catching against my chest. When she’s settled, she sucks in a breath, then says, “Okay.”

  “Good…” And suddenly I’m nervous about bringing up what I want to say next because we haven’t discussed it, and I don’t know how she’s going to feel about it. “So… I was looking at flights for Thanksgiving break…” Her entire body stiffens in my arms, and so I continue before she can tell me no. “If I book them super early, then I can get a reasonable price. And I don’t know about Christmas, but I was thinking… I wouldn’t mind being there for New Year’s, see the ball drop or whatever.” And because I’m nervous and can’t seem to shut up, I add, “It’ll be fun….”

  “Fun?” she asks, smiling up at me, her eyebrows raised.

  I nod, bite down on my lip.

  “I can come back for Christmas,” she says, rolling to her side again. “You can spend Christmas with your family, and when you’re ready, come back here. We can hang out for a few days before heading to New York together.”

  I don’t even bother containing the size of my pathetic grin. “It sounds perfect.”

  “I’ll book it all,” she tells me, tone flat. “Daddy’s Amex won’t even feel the dent.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Mia

  I get woken by Leo’s phone ringing, but he’s quick to answer it, and I attempt to go back to sleep. A second later, his lips are on my forehead, and he’s saying something about Holden and the heavy stuff in the barn. I make a noise, smear my face in the pillow again. “You’re still naked,” he tells me, and I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know if you want to put on clothes in case your grandpa comes in here.”

  Right.

  Smart.

  “Clothes,” I mumble and sit up, try to open my eyes. The sun’s out and burns my eyeballs. “What time is it?”

  “Seven.” Leo kneels at the side of my bed with my sleep shorts in his possession. He carefully lifts my ankle, slips it through the leg hole, and repeats the process with the other one. The boy is literally dressing me, and even in my daze, I realize how intimate this is, and I wish… I wish it would last, these moments we have. So little and so significant.

  “Up,” he orders, and I use his shoulders to push myself up just enough for him to slide my shorts over my butt.

  “What time is it?”

  Leo laughs under his breath. “You just asked me that. It’s seven.” Seven? Last time I checked the time was right before I fell asleep, and it was 5:48. No wonder I’m tired. He slips my tee over my head, and I struggle to push both arms through the holes. “Go back to sleep and quit being so fucking cute,” he says, pushing on my shoulders until I’m lying on the bed again. He pulls the covers up to my chin, tucks them in around me, and I start to fall, fade away, with visions of dentist chairs and the sounds of Papa’s silence floating through my mind.

  A second later, the door opens and closes, and just like that, Leo’s gone.

  Like a ghost.

  A dream.

  A memory.

  I don’t know what time it is when I wake up to Holden opening my bedroom door so hard and fast it slams into the wall behind it. I jerk up, eyes wide, breath caught in my throat. The first thing I do is look for my phone because all emergencies come with at least one phone call. “Mia!” Holden says, and he’s white as a ghost. “You need to come downstairs.”

  “What? Why?” I get to my feet, ignore the velocity of the blood rushing through my veins. Pushing past him, I call over my shoulder, “Is it Papa? Leo?” I don’t hear his response over my pulse pounding in my ears. I basically fall down both sets of stairs, and when I get to the kitchen, I skid to a halt. All air leaves my lungs, and I have to catch my hand on the wall to keep myself upright.

  Joseph Kovács is standing just inside the door, his large frame taking up more space than he’s worthy of. He’s in a suit that probably costs more than my tuition, and he has the phone to his ear, his eyes locked on mine. “And you need to understand that she is my daughter,” he says into the phone, tone biting.

  I swallow, push down my nerves. And then I take a moment to look around. Holden is beside me, his arm brushing mine. Leo is standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island, his look of confusion deepening the more his focus switches from me to my dad, over and over. And then there’s Papa, sitting on the couch with his head down, fingers linked, hands beneath his chin. If he’s praying, it’s too fucking late. “You called him!” I shout, the tears of rage so
quick to come I didn’t even realize they were pending. “Why?!” I accuse.

  “Mia, stop,” Holden says, voice quiet and meant only for me.

  Papa stands, his arms falling to his side. “Because I don’t know what to do with you!” he yells. Papa never yells. Never at me.

  I release a sob, and then rein it in. I wish I could leave. I wish I could run through the door and out into the field and keep running and running until there’s nothing left to run away from. But I can’t. Because my dad is here, and he’s standing in my way, and he won’t

  Stop

  Looking

  At me!

  “Stop looking at me!” I shout, fingers curling around my hair. I tug and I tug and I wait for the pop, for the roots to pull free.

  “Mia…” Leo’s voice is distant, so far away.

  “How long, Mia?” Dad asks, using the same authoritative tone he uses with his employees. But I’m not one of his workers, and he has no authority here.

  “Shut up,” I snap, my teeth clenched.

  His shoulders drop, his gaze shifting to Papa before returning. Gentler, he says, “I just got off the phone with your dentist, and they confirmed everything.”

  “Stop it,” I cry, my shoulders shaking with the force. From the corner of my eye, I see Leo step forward, but I shoot him a glare.

  Don’t touch me.

  Don’t look at me.

  No one is speaking, but the room is loud. So loud. And filled with so many voices. So many insults.

  Dad steps forward, and I step back.

  Don’t touch me.

  Don’t look at me.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I grind out.

  “Not a big deal?” Dad scoffs. And then he drops the bomb: “It’s bulimia, Mia. It’s a very big deal.”

  I ignore the gasps that fill the house, like plane engines roaring to life right beside my ears.

  Holden turns me to him, but I refuse to move.

  Don’t touch me.

  Don’t look at me.