Not Without You

twenty-three

Leo

"So, if the player is over the blue line before the puck is, then they're offside?" I ask, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my hand.

"That's correct," Luke nods.

"Okay," I reply, trying to wrap my head around the game of hockey. "And the playoffs consist of four rounds that are best of seven. Whichever team makes it to the end, wins the Stanley Cup?"

Luke and Hainsey exchange a well-impressed glance. "I think he's starting to become a true Canadian," Luke jokes.

Aria, who is sitting next to me, her hand resting on my knee, rolls her eyes. "How could he not?" she asks. "The two of you have been bombarding him with explanations about the game for the past two hours."

Aria's not exaggerating when she says this. For the past two hours, I've been stuck in a teaching session with her dad and uncle, learning about hockey. And I have to admit, I'm kind of curious now that I understand it. I might just have to watch a game when the season starts up again.

"The biggest question," Kate inputs, "is what team will you cheer for?"

Several pairs of eyes turn to me. I tug at the collar of my shirt, scared to admit that I don't even know the names of any of the teams except the Calgary Flames.

Before I can use them as my choice, Aria leans in and whispers, "Say the Canucks. Trust me, you'll enjoy the outcome."

Judging by the smirk on her face, I can tell she's just trying to be a shit disturber. But I still do it. "The Canucks."

And just like Aria said I would, I do enjoy the outcome. Each reaction is different. Rosa rolls her eyes as if to say, Here we go; Emyln sighs and rubs her temples; Kate snickers, as does Adrian; Luke presses his lips into a thin, unpleased line; and Hainsey claps me on the back.

"Excellent choice," Hainsey smiles. "The Canucks are the team to cheer for. Much better than the Albertan teams."

Luke snorts, wiping the condensation from his bottle of beer. "I have to disagree with that one. When was the last time the Canucks won the Stanley Cup."

The look on Hainsey's face darkens a little, but that doesn't stop him from arguing his case.

While Luke and Hainsey banter over which is the better team, throwing shade at each other, Aria tugs me to my feet and then guides me over to the grass, where the remnants of an old game of washers is.

She leans down and begins collecting the washers, placing two in my hand. As she does this, she explains the situation we left. "Dad was never able to convert his brother-in-law to a Flames fan. Uncle Hainsey would cheer for Dad's team, but that was only if the Canucks weren't in the playoffs. I love starting up these heated-but-friendly arguments. They're hilarious together."

I glance over my shoulder, limeade in hand. They're still in a deep conversation about hockey. Laughter rings through the backyard as Hainsey rolls his eyes. I've met Hainsey a few times during work hours when Aria and Benn didn't have the time to help, and the same goes for Luke, though our meetings have been very brief. This is the first time I've really seen the two of them together, and I have to agree with Aria; they're like brothers.

I turn back to Aria, a small smile on my lips. "I love your family. They're hilarious, and they all get along really well."

"Don't be fooled," she says, stepping forward to do first. She tosses one of the washers at the wooden box ahead of us. It hits the rim of the tin can in the centre, falling into the wooden box. She steps back beside me. "My mom's parents are quite the opposite."

"Really?" I ask as I toss my washer. It goes a little to the left, landing in the grass but still touching the box. Not that it matters. In order to nullify Aria's points, I need to actually get it in the box. I step back, giving Aria the space to throw her washer.

"My grandma, the one who owns the rental shop, and my grandpa don't get along very well. Grandma cheated on Grandpa and it was this whole shitshow according to my mom and Aunty Emyln. There was a bunch of drama that lasted for quite some time, actually." Aria tosses her washer, the ding of metal against tin echoing in the backyard.

I run a hand through my hair. "Why am I even playing this game with you?" I mutter. "You kick my ass every time."

With a smug grin on her face, Aria steps back and continues with the story while I get myself situated, hoping I can at least get one washer in the wooden box. "They've gotten better, so they can be civil around each other and all that, but you can tell there's tension between the two of them."

"Well," I say, trying to focus on my throw. "That's understandable. At least they can be civil, though. My mom's parents are a nightmare."

I toss the washer, groaning when it hits the edge of the box and falls back into the grass. "Damn it."

Aria chuckles, patting me on the shoulder. "You'll get the hang of it, Leo. Eventually."

"You know," I say, a small smile playing on my lips. "I'm not sure if I like your teasing or not. You better watch your back."

"Really?" she drawls. She sticks her bottom lip out, creating a pouty face. "What are you going to do? Punish me?"

I shrug. "I mean, if I really wanted to, I guess I could. But maybe I already am and I've just faking being terrible at this game so I don't embarrass you."

Aria snorts as we walk to the opposing side and gather our washers. "I really doubt that."

I eye her up, making note of her flowery black top that hugs her body, as well as the tight high-rise shorts she's wearing. I rarely see her in such feminine clothing, and I have to say, I'm really enjoying it. "Really?" I ask, hoping she doesn't notice just how much my eyes are raking over her body.

"Really," she challenges, cocking a perfectly sculpted brow at me.

"Fine," I reply. I'm totally BSing Aria, and she can tell just as much as I can, but it's fun to banter with her. Turning around, I toss my first washer. Surprisingly, it goes in. But so does Aria's, nullifying my two points.

I don't even want to discuss my second throw, or the fact that Aria gets hers in the freaking tin can again.

"You were saying?" she laughs.

"Yeah," I sigh, running another hand through my hair. "I suck."

She chuckles again, tapping me on the chin. "Chin-up. I bet you could beat me at a game of golf."

"Probably," I agree, shrugging my shoulders in a slightly cocky manner.

Aria's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her lips parting slightly.

"What?" I ask.

She presses a hand to her chest. "I don't think I've ever heard you brag before."

I clear my throat, feeling sheepish. "Sorry."

She laughs. "Don't be sorry for bragging about something you're good at. I know that's not how you operate, but just so you know, people don't mind it if you brag every once in a while."

I stare at her. She never fails to make my heart beat rapidly during moments like these; she always knows the right thing to say and when to say it. I like that she accepts my anxiety and doesn't try to push me out of my comfort zone. She's suggestive, but not forceful, always offering help or understanding.

I'm not sure what to say, so I hug her instead. realize we have a potential audience, but I have to do something to thank her. "We'll have to have a round of golf sometime," I whisper as she hugs me back.

I can hear the smile in her voice as she responds. "We'll mark it down. But first, I need to finish kicking your ass."