Page 63 of Skating Towards Danger

Before heading to the locker room, I walk past the fans and wave politely, even though I feel nothing.

I need a shower, but more importantly, I need my phone.

I’ve been gone two days, and it’s been radio silence from Paige. The guards I have keeping an eye on her say she’s been at the rink and that she’s okay, but I haven’t heard jack shit from her, and the only thing that has kept me sane is the fact I watch her on the cameras I have around the apartment.

Creepy? Probably.

Do I care? Not one fucking bit.

I quickly grab my phone, get to my locker, and sit. I bring my girl's number up and press the Facetime button. While it rings, I unlace my skates and remove them.

The phone rings, then beeps out, and I sigh.

“Fuck’s sake, little fairy…,” I mutter as I cancel the call, then press the ring button to make a normal call.

Again, it rings out but goes to her voicemail….

“Hey, this is Paige. I can’t reach the phone right now, so leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

It beeps, and I growl, “If you think ignoring my calls will keep me away, little fairy, you have another thing coming. You are my wife, and I love you. I get you’re confused, I get you're scared, but lean on me, Paige, and I promise I’ll catch you.”

I hang up as I stand, then chuck my phone back in my locker and grumble, “Damn stubborn woman,” as I walk over to the showers before I have to endure God knows how long of interviews.

“Dante, what can you tell us about the hit on Tony Eccles that sent you to the sin bin?” a reporter asks, and I sigh.

I’ve been sitting in this seat for thirty minutes, and honestly, it’s times like these that I hate that I’m captain.

“He tried to trip our goalie up with his stick, which the ref missed but the cameras caught. I did what I had to. Goalies are off-limits, everyone knows this," I answered him professionally, and the reporter slumps back in his seat, clearly not happy with my response.

Another reporter stands. He’s wearing a suit, and his hair is gelled back, but I try not to pull a face as he clears his throat. “How does it feel to skate without your blood brother beside you?” he asks, and I smile.

See, those kinds of questions are easy.

“Different,” I admit, then state, “but I do get the puck more because Roman was a hog,” Everyone chuckles, “I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. Roman and I have been skating together since I was three, but his family needs to come first.”

He nods, happy with my response, before a woman with short brown hair and a very tight dress stands next.

She used to be the kind of woman I’d go for, but then in walked Paige and her stubborn, beautiful ass.

“There’s a rumor going around Dante,” she says, and I raise a brow because, well, there are shit loads of rumors, and I state, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

The room chuckles, and the woman’s face goes red before she clears her throat and states, “Rumor has it you’re in a relationship with Paige Carmen, the ex-figure skater who is due to perform a tribute show in her mother’s honor.”

And it’s questions like this that fucking suck because now I’m about to out our relationship and most likely piss her off.

“You mean Paige Marino?” I confirm, and everyone looks at me wide-eyed, but I continue, “My wife?”

“W-Wife?” the reported stutters in shock, and I nod.

Flashes go off, and questions begin to fly at me, but I put my hand up until everyone quietens, and then I state, “Paige and I have been married for a few weeks, so to answer your question, Miss, yes, I am in a relationship with her, and when she performs in her family's honor, I’ll be there watching on and helping her through it… No more questions.”

The reporters begin to shout as I stand, flashes going off repeatedly.

Paige is most likely going to kill me, but ah well, it’s time she understood she’s mine, and I’m hers, and we are not a lie.

“Dante, Dante, when did you two meet?” a reporter asks.

“Dante, is she pregnant?” another asks, and I roll my eyes.

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