Talk to Me (3 page)

“Really,” Jonathan said. “That’s a first step. Now if you’d just hurry up and get that story for sweeps.”

Oh, I got it, my friend. I so got it.

I left Jonathan to scout out a location for our live shot, skipping my way down the hall, unable to take my mind off Finn Daley.

Finn

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
So, you first saw her outside the arena?

Finn Daley:
Yeah. That’s right.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Why were you there, Finn?

Finn Daley:
I couldn’t stay away from the guys. The team. The game. Plus, I had been toying around with an idea.

Shit.
The goddamn cameraman snuck up on me. I usually avoided them at all costs, but I didn’t even notice this guy approach. I was not on my game tonight.

My first thought was that he was following me. Until I spotted
her
.

I used to be the kind of guy who would openly gawk at beautiful women. I had no filter — never learned control or respect because I didn’t need to. I had always been a sports star. Even as a kid, people treated me differently because of hockey — which meant a lot of free passes. My poor mom was never in a position to teach me any better and Dad was always checked out, too consumed with Mom and her issues. Childrearing, needless to say, came in a distant fifth or sixth on their list of priorities.

The girl in front of the camera almost stopped me dead in my tracks. Almost. Survival meant I had to keep walking. When I glanced in her direction, she tipped her head at me and smiled. Right in the middle of her interview. A familiar sensation pulled low in my gut, and I sized her up in seconds. Curvy brunette; fresh-faced and bright eyes; seemingly oblivious to her beauty as she talked to a little boy.

A year ago, I would’ve sent someone over to bring her to me without hesitation. Then, I would’ve kept her up all night exploring every tempting inch of her body.

I was no longer that guy.

Pity.

I pulled my hat down and hurried into the arena, relishing in the putrid smell I couldn’t believe I missed. The crisp chemical fragrance of the ice and Zamboni; the old beer spilled on the floor; the popcorn scents in the stands.

It was home. And also a place I could be recognized at any second, which was why I rarely left the house. Sometimes I didn’t know why I put myself through this. Looking over my shoulder constantly, all the while feeling the eyes burn into my skin.

I may need to grow a full beard if I planned to come to any more games.

The guys filtered out and the fans cheered. It had the adrenaline pumping thick through my veins and I craved an endorphin rush. The scratching sounds on the ice and slap of the sticks were music to my ears. I was lost for a while, until I felt the eyes on me again.

I desperately wanted a beer or something to take the edge off. Too bad that wasn’t on the menu anymore. Instead, I got up to walk it off. Most likely a stupid mistake. Getting up probably drew even more attention my way, yet I couldn’t sit still.

It didn’t help when I went out to the concourse and saw her again. She stood in a corner by one of the hockey memorials, assessing herself in the reflective glass. She smoothed out her T-shirt and messed with her hair. Not primping really, more like minimizing.

I wanted to get closer, get a better look at her.

“Looking good,” I called out to get her attention. It was an amateur move, but I wanted to see her eyes again. She didn’t turn around. Instead, she raised her arm, flipped me the bird, and went back into the arena.

A laugh ripped out of me so deep, it took me by surprise. Because she took me by surprise. Feisty little tiger, that one.

It wasn’t all bad, her retreat allowed me to enjoy the view of her tasty ass shaking the entire way inside.

***

Back in my seat, I tried to get the girl out of my head to focus on Nate. He was the only person I kept in contact with in this world. The only link to my past. Though,
he
thought I still had a future.

He was the only person who knew the truth.

Nate and I came up to the NHL at the same time. And shit, had he grown as a player in the three short years. He practically flew across the ice and it was like he could see the opponents’ plays even before they happened. He was always at the right place at the right time.

It was no different tonight. Nate played an impressive game. He scored the winning goal and I warmed with pride. He deserved all the attention and glory that had finally come his way.

Walking out into the night, instead of fucking off with the guys in the locker room, hurt more than I cared to admit. I missed rehashing the game with the guys. Missed talking trash with Nate.

Finally pulled your head out of your ass to make a shot,
I texted him when I got home.

Better late than never, Hack,
he replied.

Celebrating then I assume?
I asked.

Just a small group at the house. Stop by?

I waited a beat, remembering all those small gatherings at the house. I didn’t miss the partying, necessarily. The women, though. That I missed.

Gina’s here,
Nate provoked.

Don’t think so.

Despite the dry spell, the idea of spending the night with her did nothing for me. Maybe because all my dirty thoughts involved the girl at the X.

Pathetic.

I tucked my phone away, knowing Nate and I would continue the ribbing in the morning.

But morning didn’t come soon enough.

SOURCE (n.):

Someone (or something) that supplies a reporter with valuable information.

Casey

The first few weeks of the hockey season flew by. When I wasn’t working, I was studying Finn Daley. It was past time to take a break from it all and earn my keep.

On Saturday morning, I went down to the marina with Zack. My big brother worked seasonal jobs because his furniture design company wasn’t enough to pay rent for his beat-down beach house. Since I wasn’t contributing yet¸ I helped him at the marina whenever I could.

I loved being near the water. Growing up on Lake Superior was all I knew, but something about this place along the river felt even more like home. The area was an eclectic group of fixer-uppers in the more hidden areas of the village; quaint saltbox houses and bungalows around the center; and elegant monstrosities on the riverfront.

I had no doubts that Zack would be in one of those someday. Each piece of furniture he built was a work of art.

We got moving on the first boat right away. It was time to winterize all the cruisers that spent the lazy summer months on the river, and with only a small window of time to do it, the work could get backed up fast. Zack started with the fluids. He made sure the gas tank was half full and added the stabilizer. Then he focused on the valves and spark plugs. I had no idea what he did with these things, but I knew the order of business.

“Hey, can you get some more antifreeze from the back?” Zack asked.

I scrounged around for it and grabbed a few jugs. I also grabbed a few more cleaning supplies I needed for detailing. Once my arms were full, I joined Zack, who was busy chatting up one of the members.

I’m not sure how he did it. Most of the members were all right. Decent really, but damn, some of them were such pompous a-holes. Zack treated them all the same though, and they all loved him. My brother got all the charisma in the family. He said I got the looks.

He was a big, fat liar.

And I don’t know what I would do without him. Our childhood wasn’t the easiest. Our parents had a shotgun wedding when Mom found out she was pregnant with Zack. It didn’t last. My father left when Zack and I were toddlers. Mom said he suffered from some sort of substance abuse problem. What that substance was, nobody knew.

Mom never recovered. I think that’s why she focused on me so much — my looks, my love life. She wanted to be sure I could hold onto a man so I wouldn’t end up like her. I wished she’d understand that I could be happy without one.

Looking at myself in one of the boats’ windshields, however, I realized she might have a point. I needed a little TLC. I wore my black-framed nerd glasses and my hair was in two tiny braids that barely grazed my shoulders, with loose pieces unraveling in every direction. I had only been at the shop a few hours and I already had dirt smeared across my face and the chest of my now dingy white T-shirt. Mom would not be happy.

“I’ll get going on the blue one,” I said to Zack as I dropped the antifreeze by his feet.

“Great. Thanks, Case,” he said, before continuing his conversation.

“Same deal as last year,” a man with an insanely deep voice told Zack, causing me to look up.

I knew that voice.

Of course I did. I listened to it in hundreds of interviews over the past few weeks.

Finn Daley met my gaze and smiled, with what looked to be a flash of recognition in his eyes. Even though that wasn’t possible.

“Hi,” he said and I felt the same zing I felt when I saw him for the first time at the X.

“Finn, this is my sister, Casey,” Zack said. “Casey, Finn.”

I held up a hand, unsure what to say, before Zack led him outside. I couldn’t believe I had been studying this guy twenty-four, seven, and here he was in my backyard.

Zack was holding out on me, and I couldn’t wait to corner him.

***

“So, you’re buds with Finn Daley,” I said when my brother returned.

“I wouldn’t say buds, but yeah, I’ve been taking care of his boat for a few years now.”

“How could you not tell me this?” I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but also knowing I had to work my sources. Who knew my brother would be one of them?

“Because of the look you’re giving me right now,” he told me. “I really don’t want my sister getting all misty-eyed over someone like Finn Daley. It’s bad enough I have to worry about you when you go to work with all those guys.”

This was news to me.

“What do you mean someone like Finn Daley? It seemed as though you really liked the guy,” I said, feeling slightly defensive of him. I had no idea why.

“I do like the guy, but not for my sister. I’ve heard some bad shit about him, Case. There was some fucked up stuff going down at his place on the ridge when he was still with the Wild.”

“He lives on the ridge?”

“Yeah.”

“Do
you
know why he retired?”

“Why are you going all reporter on me?”

“Because Finn Daley is the biggest mystery in sports in this town, and if I found out why, it would get me out of the tight T-shirts and into the newsroom. I’ve been praying for a lead, little did I know I could’ve just asked you. Spill it, what do you know?”

“I take care of his boat and that’s it.”

“Come on, Zack. Don’t hold out on me. I’m almost a month into this stupid contract at KXAA. I need to get working on my story.”

“He’s a pretty good guy now. Likes to boat and build stuff. I get the feeling he likes the simpler things, Case. I don’t think there’s a story here; I think he was just one of those guys who couldn’t handle the fame and fortune.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Look, the guy is private. It’s one reason we get along. I don’t mention he’s a member and I try my best to be discreet. I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ruin things for you. I’m just going to follow the lead and see where it goes. And if it goes somewhere, maybe he’ll agree to talk to me.”

Finn

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
When did you actually talk to her for the first time?

Finn Daley:
It was at the marina near my home. She was helping her brother work.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
What did you think?

Finn Daley:
There are no words. Appropriate words for TV, anyway. Remember the FCC?

I needed to get a grip on this situation.

Women were making me crazy. Each new one more so than the last. My body was going through pussy withdrawal. And this girl was doing nothing to help it.

Casey Scott. Sister of Zack. Gorgeous face. Tight little body. Nice tits. Yes, she was definitely fuckable.

I cringed as the unwelcome thoughts of the old me took over my brain.

Casey didn’t deserve it. She was a natural girl. Sweet, unpretentious, and — fuck me — she wore the sexiest librarian glasses I’ve ever seen. And the fact that she didn’t flaunt her beauty, or her very feminine form, made her even more appealing.

So I waited for her at the marina like a fucking teenage kid.

“Hey,” I called out to Casey when she finally emerged by the docks after her shift was over.

Too consumed by her bottle of water, she didn’t hear me. She dropped a large box by her feet and took a long drink. I could hardly watch. Everything this girl did seemed erotic to me. I quickly adjusted myself and made my way over to her.

“Long day?” I asked, unable to shake the feeling that I knew her from somewhere.

“Not too bad,” she said. “What are you up to out here?”

Stalking you like a freak.

“Not much, just enjoying the day. You live in the area?”

“I do. With my brother. I came down here after I graduated in the spring.”

“Really?” I said, trying to keep up with the casual small talk. “What school?”

“UMD.”

Big hockey school. Very nice.

“What did you study?” I asked, unable to stop with the questions.

“Writing,” she said, shifting her weight. I was getting the feeling my clumsy interrogation was making her uneasy.

“Very good.”

“And you?” she asked, taking over. Something I really didn’t care for.

“You mean you really don’t know?” I asked, sure her brother told her who I was.

God, I hated how pretentious that sounded.

“Kidding,” she said. “Of course I know. I went to one of the most hockey-loving schools ever. You were all people could talk about freshman and sophomore year.”

“Ugh. You make me sound so old.”

She smirked before picking up her box.

I tried to take it from her, but she jerked it away.

Her actions made me grin, and I felt another tingle of recognition I couldn’t place.

Feisty little tiger.

“It’s okay,” she said, almost in apology. “I’ve got it.”

“What’s in there?”

“Just some of my brother’s tools. I’m dropping them at the car.”

“You’re sure I can’t help you?”

“I’m good,” she said. She started to say something else, but I cut her off.

It was the most I had talked to a stranger in months and I didn’t want to blow it.
Baby steps,
my doc always said.
Baby steps.