Page 51 of Script
“Can we have a moment, guys?” Footsteps on the marble floor indicated Jed and Todd had left us alone. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he asked, and after a sniff I did. His eyes were dark with emotion, and bright, as if he was close to tears, or injustice was making him angry. I couldn’t tell. All I know was that he was there by my side, and he was my everything. “Come home with me.”
“I thought about going home to my parents, but it’s not fair on them—”
“Move in with me.”
“And my sister has the kids, and she’s pregnant—”
“Move in with me,” he repeated, insistent and so damn caring.
“I can’t. It’s better if I give you space. Atlas has a suite for me at the—”
“Let me rephrase this. Please come home with me. I love you. I’ll look after you.”
Nerves coiled inside me on top of anxiety, and it was all too much. “What if we can’t separate our personal and professional lives? What if we have no privacy, what if coming out is more newsworthy than my acting or your hockey career? Jesus, Cam, they’re saying dreadful things about you. Like it’s your fault you lost because you were too busy fucking the Ken-Doll who pretends to be an actor. I don’t even look like Ken! Not to mention the things that they’re saying about the rest of the team. Shit. I’m so sorry. Are they angry with me? Do they hate me?” Pain knifed into me at the thought of all those people at the party having targets on their back because of me.
He cupped my chin and nodded. “It’s nothing we haven’t heard before, okay? When the Storm lose, we’ve had our fair share of slurs thrown at us, saying we’re weak because a few of us are open about who we might want to love, accusing me and some of the other guys of orgies in the locker room. Then, the next game we win, and suddenly, we’re gods among men. Look, babe, it’s just words, and what’s important is you and me. So, please come to my place so we can work through this—”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Please.” Cam was so focused, gripping my upper arms, almost willing me to say yes.
“Someone got over my gate, Cam. They could have…” Hurt me, hated me, I didn’t know.
“The security around my place is insane, it has to be with the number of idiots who try to get close to Rottie next door. Say yes, Finn.”
“You really want me to—”
“Move in with me?” he pleaded. “And not just on a temporary basis. I know it’s quick, and maybe we would have danced around the subject for months, but, fuck, I love you, and my place is a home you’d fit right into.”
“I love you too.” Not that it was the point of what he was saying, but it was worth repeating.
“We can get anything important you have here moved over.”
I blinked at him. “I don’t have anything important apart from Fred and Wilma.”
He glanced around. “Huh?”
“My fish I mean.”
“You named them Fred and Wilma?” He smiled, and it was so infectious I couldn’t help but smile in return, and a tiny part of my fear lifted enough to let the sunshine break through the growing clouds in my head.
“I can’t believe I never told you, but I like theFlintstones, andScooby Doo, oh andTom and Jerry. They’re cool, and I’m a massive nerd.”
“Says the man who’s sleeping with the person who jumped him when he dressed as Thor.” He smiled. We kissed. It was perfect. “Anyway, I already have Jed finding an expert to move them to my place. It’s all good.”
“Okay.”
“Come live with me?”
“Can I pay rent?”
He laughed and hugged me tight. “Sure thing, Mr. Richie Rich.”
I lasted a couple of weeks,right up until we were three days out from filming onThe Cup.
The furor had died down, everyone was right about that, but there was so much pain in the world, and bit by bit, it nibbled away at me. The kids who wrote and said I gave them hope, the parents who saw their kids in a new light, contrasting with the nutjobs who blamed me for anything that ever went wrong, including the weather, and hoped I died. I could take the hate, but being responsible for carrying the torch for queer kids and families was too much to bear, because how could Finn Kerrigan, soap star, lucky fucker, wannabe serious actor, be held up as a beacon of hope?
Moving in with Cam was perfect. We fit. Fred and Wilma arrived and had pride of place in Cam’s kitchen—our kitchen, he kept saying—and waking in his arms every morning was bliss.
