Page 9 of Vital Blindside

4

SCARLETT

As soon as I pull out of the WIT parking lot, I call Leo. The professional hockey player is my closest friend and someone who has spent days upon days up close and personal with my new boss. If there’s anyone who can tell me if I made the right decision by taking this job, it’s him.

The dial tone rings three times before he picks up, panting into the speaker. “Letty?”

“Tell me about Adam White.”

“Woah, girl. First, hello. Second, why? Are you planning something I should know about?”

I roll my eyes and turn off the gravel road that leads to WIT, heading onto the highway. The GPS in my mom’s car updates to show I only have six minutes until I’ll arrive home.

“Hey, Leo,” I sigh. “And no, not really. He offered me a job today, and I took it. I need you to tell me if that was a stupid idea.”

There’s clanging and a muffled curse. “Say that again?”

I groan. “I knew it was ridiculous.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised,” he says over the sound of shouted voices. “How did that happen, anyway? I doubt you wandered into his arena begging for a job.”

That makes me laugh. “Maybe I did.”

He snorts, and I relax for the first time since leaving Adam’s office. Leo and I have known each other since we played co-ed hockey together when we were twelve and have somehow stayed in contact since then. It’s impressive, considering we still call and text daily eleven years later, even with him playing pro hockey for the Minnesota Woodmen now.

After so many years, I can’t imagine not talking to him as often as I do. It’s become a habit that I don’t intend to break anytime soon, if ever.

“Try again, Letty. This is the first time in years I’ve heard you mention the guy. There’s no way you went there of your own free will.”

I pass the East Vancouver sign and slow to a stop at a red light.

“Fine. It was my mom. She hit him with her new plant in the parking lot of Charlotte’s Flower Shop and told him all about how her hockey star daughter was back in town, newly retired and bored out of her skull.”

Leo’s laugh is a deep rasp in my car’s speakers. “Yep, sounds like her.”

“It’s not funny,” I scold. “She’s dead set on not letting me stay home to take care of her. That’s the reasoning behind her sudden chattiness.” The light turns green, and I hit the gas.

“Are you telling me you haven’t been bored?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But I enjoy taking care of her. I’ve missed out on so many years already. I’m here now, and I don’t want to miss any more. You know better than anyone how it is for us.”

The confession is like dropping a stone in water. There’s the initial plop when it hits the surface before it sinks deep, surrounded by silence. My lungs constrict, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as if to steady myself.

Leo mutters something too quietly for me to make out the words—like he’s muffled the speaker—and then the shouting around him stops.

His voice is clearer, steadier, when he says, “I do know how it is. And I know you mean well. Just try to look at it from your mom’s perspective, babes. She already feels guilty because you came home for her, right? Now add that you won’t even leave the house out of worry for her safety to the equation, and I would do the same thing she is. Good intentions or not.”

“You’re not supposed to be on her side,” I grumble.

“I’m not. I’ll always be on your side. But just try to consider how she’s feeling before going all Scarlet Witch on our asses.”

A laugh bursts out of me at the same time I turn into my neighbourhood. The childhood nickname has a wave of nostalgia crashing into me. Leo and his comic references go together like two peas in a pod.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?” I ask.

“Too many. But you know I won’t stop. Might as well just accept it.”

I drive up the steep hill that serves as an unofficial entry to our community and spot the pointed roof of my childhood home—all nine hundred square feet of it.

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