Page 44 of Script
Finn
It had only beenthree days.
It felt like a lot longer.
I’d kept up my practice, the rink emptied of everyone except me and security at the front desk. I’d made friends with Jed and Todd, who seemed to be on duty all the time, and who never worried me or fussed over me or asked me questions.
I wished they’d talk to me instead of staring at various screens.
Because my thoughts were too much, too knotted, too… everything, and I was lonely and veering toward pathetic. I skated the length of the rink crossovers, switching direction, smooth, and then angled my skates to come to a fancy stop, sending ice into the net.
“He scores!” I yelled, balling my fists, and reaching for the sky with my mouth wide open.
Nope that didn’t work, particularly when raising said hands put me so much off-balance I ended up ass over tail into the bench area.
I tried again, skating for the net, icing, and this time in celebration of my imaginary scoring, I shot an imaginary arrow using the stick as the bow.
Nope. That wasn’t the character.
Also, yet again I ended up in the bench.
Maybe I should stick to a celebration the same as Cameron’s, which was a firm nod and a chef’s kiss to the crowd. I could do that.
I spent so long deciding which hand to do the kiss with that, when I managed it, I punched myself in the face with the bulky gloves.
Finesse is not my friend.
“Mr. Kerrigan? Sir?”
I skated over to where both Jed and Todd were escorting in a mountain in human form. A mountain who winked at me, and then returned my grin. Company at last.
“This man says he has permission to be here,” Jed said with a sniff.
“I am Philippe Jacques Andre Pageau. I am team special puck holder. Of course, I should be here,” the man said in heavily accented French.
“That’s Phillipe!” I exclaimed, coming to a sudden stop when my belly met the rink surround. It was Phillipe who reached over and caught me, shaking his head when I clung to him for dear life.
He let out a stream of words, and I could only make out one of them—Cameron—and from Phillipe’s expression, he wasn’t impressed with my landing in his arms.
“He didn’t have a pass.” Todd laid his hand on Phillipe’s arm, which the big goalie soon shrugged away. To my knowledge, there were passes for a skeleton staff, and one the security company had made Cam wear and sign the back of. I didn’t think anyone else would want to visit, and Cam and I had been in our own bubble with the staff mostly staying in the office side of the building with a promise that the ice time was to remain private. I’d paid a ton of money for privacy, and so far, no one had caused any issues. But seeing Phillipe was a breath of fresh air.
“Add him to the list. Let him in.” It would be nice to have the company, although how he’d known to come here was up for debate.
“There is no official list, sir,” Jed said.
“There is now. Add Phillipe to it.”
Jed and Todd both narrowed their eyes at me, and I sighed. It was Atlas who paid them, Atlas who hadn’t thought to make a list beyond the staff here, but it was me who paid Atlas.
“It’s okay, guys. He’s a friend.”
They muttered together, and Phillipe took the distraction and stepped away from them, a huge bag slipping from his back.
“We skate. We talk about heartache,” he said, and that didn’t sound ominous at all.
He vanished down the tunnel—I assumed to change—and Todd elected to sit in the stands, close enough to watch me, while Jed went back to reception. Boy, they were taking this looking out for me very seriously, but I didn’t want an audience of anyone, particularly not stony-faced Todd.
I clumped after Phillipe, ignoring the glimpse of his ass, and yanking out my phone. One short message to Atlas later, I headed back out to find Todd taking a call, then moving away with one more pointed stare at Phillipe, who was by the tunnel waiting to come out on the ice. He wasn’t wearing his goalie stuff, but he was in Storm purple, skates on, and a hockey stick at his side. He waited until Todd had disappeared, then lifted his face to the rafters and inhaled deeply. More French—I needed to learn more of the language of love—and then he skated lazy circles, forward, backward, and arrived at my side with a broad grin.
