his drink, not meeting Morgan’s eyes. “Let’s see if they can put some more runs on the board and win this thing.”
“Yeah. Totally.”
Leo’s phone went off, and whatever the text said turned his cheeks a fiery red. Without responding, he put the phone down. It continued to vibrate until, with a sigh, he picked it up to answer. Morgan couldn’t help but listen.
“Yeah.…No, I can’t.…No, I don’t have to.…You’re annoying me. What the fuck is wrong with you?…No, don’t…please don’t, ah shit.” Leo ran his hand through his hair and sent a glance up to the sky. Morgan had no idea what was happening, but it was a lot more interesting than the Mets bumbling a play on the field, and he pretended to concentrate on his straw.
“Hi, Marla.…No.…I’m telling you it’s not like that. How are the kids?…Oh, good.…No, really it isn’t what you…ah, Jesus. Okay, hold on.” Leo set the phone on his thigh and turned to him.
“So, my friend Peter—”
“The one who gave you the tickets?” Morgan could play this game.
“Yeah. Seems he and Marla, his wife, were watching the game and saw us on the screen.”
“You mean the Kiss Cam.”
Leo’s face flooded with color. “Yeah. Whatever. So, of course, they want to know about you.”
“And you told them I was your pain-in-the-ass neighbor.”
At that, Leo’s eyes danced. “Oh, I already told Peter that.”
“I can only imagine,” Morgan said dryly.
“They want us to stop by Saturday night for a barbecue. I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll just tell them no.”
“I’m not busy. Not busy at all. I’d love to go.”
Leo stared at him. “I knew you would. You’re doing this to get back at me for everything I said to you, aren’t you?”
Morgan grinned, and when Leo picked up the phone, he heard a woman’s voice.
“Don’t lie to me, Leo. I heard him say yes. We’ll see you Saturday around six.”
“Bye, Marla.”
Leo disconnected the call and stared out at the field.
“It’s not a death sentence, you know. If you really don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”
“That’s not it.” But like he did earlier, Leo closed off for the rest of the game and barely spoke until they pulled up to the apartment house.
Morgan hopped off the bike, and before he had a chance to say anything—even a thank-you—Leo accelerated and took off, leaving him at the curb.
“Fine. If that’s what he wants, I don’t need to beg people to be with me.”
* * *
EIGHT
* * *
Leo parked the bike but didn’t get off. He bent over the handlebars and clenched his hands into fists, the enjoyment of the evening already seeping away. It wasn’t the invite to Peter’s with Cantrell. He could handle that for a few hours. It was the mention of third grade. The year his father died. The last year he knew what it meant to be happy and feel loved.
“Fuck it.” Leo raised his head to the sky and stared into the darkness. Searching. Wishing he could go back to those days when he was innocent enough to believe life would always stay the same.
Being with Cantrell tonight brought into stark reality how isolated his life had become. Sure, he went to Peter’s and visited his mother on weekends, but that was pretty much the extent of his interaction with people.
He hadn’t always been this way. Until his father died, he’d had friends from school and little league, after-school playdates, and weekend parties. He’d had a best friend, David, but he moved away. It was his second experience with loss.
Once Theresa married Robert, they dumped him off at sitters or with his grandparents. Not his father’s parents, as Theresa had made sure to cut ties with that side of the family early on, so it wasn’t until years after his grandparents’ deaths that he’d discovered they’d tried to see him, but Theresa had ignored them.
When Leo turned thirteen, Grandpa Freddy died and soon after, Grandma Marie followed, unable to live without the man she’d been married to for sixty years. They might’ve been her parents, but Theresa had little to do with them as their health declined and only played the grieving child to settle their estate. But Leo missed them.
Enough of memory lane. Life was fine as it was. As long as he woke up, Leo considered it a win.
He swung off the bike, locked it up, and with both helmets in hand, entered the building from the service door he’d recently put in. He thought about Cantrell and how