Page 79 of Doc Defence

Frost rolled his eyes. He was sure she had practised that move a good few times in front of the mirror. Actually, knowing Patricia, she would have recorded herself over and over again until she had it perfect.

“Frost. I love you. You’re endgame for me.”

Frost cringed at her words. He was pretty sure she had lifted the line from a movie or television show.

“I freaked out when I saw you injured. I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you. Not run.”

Frost scoffed. She was something else.

“At the end of the day. I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” Patricia finished and dropped the microphone to her waist, then wiped at her eyes.

Did she even have an original thought in her head? He knew the last line was from Notting Hill. He remembered everything about watching it and how close he had been to kissing Hel when it ended. Bloody Aiden.

Frost tried again to spot Hel, but his teammates were pushing him forward, so he was at the edge of the ice rink while Patricia was accompanied over to them.

Applause began somewhere in the crowd, and soon, everyone joined in, shouting and stamping as she tottered across the ice.

Frost grimaced and clenched his teeth. She was so manipulative. Coldness settled over him as she drew nearer. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of a crowd of people, his team, and Hel.

Again, he looked for Hel. Usually, her bright red hair was easy to spot, but even amongst the navy of his teams shirts, he couldn’t see her.

“What do you say, Frost?” Patricia spoke into the microphone.

Frost rolled his eyes, of course she did. She was now close enough that they could have a face-to-face conversation, yet she made sure the audience heard.

He hopped forward so he was right in front of her at the edge of the ice. He had to play this correctly, or she would make a massive scene. Leaning over, he kissed her gently on the cheek, and the whole arena erupted into applause.

As Frost pulled back, he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and his head whipped around. Was that Hel? Where was she? His eyes searched frantically, but he couldn’t find her.

“What do you say, Frost?” Patricia repeated again into the microphone.

It was all Frost could do not to roll his eyes. She was a piece of work. He needed to get the microphone out of her hand and this self-centred woman out of there. Then he needed to go and find Hel.

“Shall we get you off the ice? And go somewhere more private?” Frost managed not to growl at her, however much he wanted to.

Patricia brought the microphone to her lips and said, “Yes. We should go somewhere more private.”

The noise in the stadium increased in volume, and this time, Frost did growl. This was so typical of Patricia. She tried to walk on the ice and slid. He used this as an opportunity to take the microphone out of her hand and get rid of it.

The commentator announced to the crowd, “And there we have it, folks. A happily ever after!”

Frost growled when Patricia clung unsteadily to the boards. “Rocky, Aiden. Can you grab her?”

The young men reached over and hoisted her into the players box in a matter of seconds, and Frost was tempted to ask them to keep on carrying her until they reached the exit. Then dump her outside, ideally with a ticket back to Canada.

The second Patricia was back on solid ground, she flung herself at him, and because of the crutches, Frost couldn’t easily step out of her way. She clung on, her cloying perfume enveloping him and making him feel nauseous.

He couldn’t help but contrast it with how Hel smelt, which was fresh and clean, with a faint hint of lemon, which he thought was her shampoo. Not that he had smelled her hair, okay, he had totally smelled her hair when they were watching television together, and she fell asleep next to him and ended up leaning into his side.

Extracting himself from Patricia’s embrace, he took a hop back. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you. I made a mistake. I want to get back together.” She reached out for him, her manicured fingers landing on his chest and stroking him through his shirt.

Frost would have stepped backwards again, but he was already against the bench and had nowhere to go. He cursed the broken leg, which meant he couldn’t climb over it and run away.

“Nope.” Frost shook his head.

“Really? Jake, I love you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Patricia pushed her chest out towards him and tilted her head, playing with her hair.

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