8. Finn
Chapter eight
Finn
T he familiar silence that accompanied living alone in my apartment was a little heavier than usual on the evening of Christmas day. I'd strung up some festive little lights, and they cast a soft glow, but they didn't carry the comfort of an in-the-flesh human being.
As I lay on my sofa, I found myself lost in a sea of my teammates' family photos on Instagram. Each image was a stark contrast to my solitary Christmas.
Sergei's family photos, in particular, caught my eye. His grin, the matching reindeer pajamas, the joy in his kids' eyes—it was a scene of pure happiness that I longed to be a part of.
Underneath Sergei's pictures was a caption that read, "Merry Christmas from the Volkov clan! #happyhockeydays." His forced smile in the locker room had morphed into a genuine one. It spoke of the love and connection he felt with his family. It was a feeling I wanted, belonging and companionship that I couldn't find in my empty apartment.
Next, I stopped on Blaise's story. It was a series of videos that showed him surrounded by a small army of what I guessed were cousins. As I watched, a massive Nerf gun war played out. Loud peals of laughter accompanied the action. It was endearing to see the ordinarily intense fellow rookie appear so relaxed.
Coach Fraser posted a photo that captured the serenity of his experience. It was a shot of a Christmas tree through a lakeside cabin window. The caption was simple. "Peace on Earth. Enjoy the break, men."
I scrolled further and then stopped on a photo of a lively Christmas dinner. Terminally grumpy Axel actually had a smile on his face. He nestled close to Quinn, flanked by what I guessed were his father and sister. Before them was a spread of food that made my stomach growl.
There was one other smiling face in those photos, and it belonged to Moose. He had an arm slung over Quinn's shoulders, and his relaxed face conveyed contentment. The camera caught him in a rare, relaxed moment.
Before I could second guess what I might say, I typed out a text message:
Hey, big guy. How was Christmas with the O'Reilly-Karlsson clan? Was that an impressive Swedish feast or what?
I held my breath for a moment, but I didn't expect a prompt reply. Surprisingly, my phone buzzed almost immediately.
Good! Just walked in the door – huff puff. The food, oh man, ever had lutefisk?
Can't say I have. Sounds… interesting?
One of those acquired tastes. Dried whitefish treated with lye. Axel insisted I start to acquire it, but meatballs more than made up for it.
Lye? Don't they use that to unclog drains and eat through the gunk?
Hahaha. Yeah, but you know Axel, tradition and all. Plus mulled wine. Oh man, dangerously good.
Our texts shot back and forth as fast as we could type them. Moose told me all about Christmas in Sweden including little gnome-like creatures called tomte.
Quite the cultural experience, eh?
I did my best to ignore a twinge of envy. I loved finding out how different families and cultures celebrated the holidays.
It was great, but, I missed you. What are you up to? Chowing down on gingerbread?
My heart raced. I didn't expect to be missed, and certainly didn't think I'd hear about it.
No, chilling. You? What's a Moose-tastic Christmas night like?
Maybe it includes you. Wanna come over? My place? I've got leftover frosted cookies and eggnog.
I stared at the message and warmth surged through my body, clear out to the tips of my toes.
Sure. Be there in 15.
I grabbed my keys, dragged a comb through my hopeless curls, and headed out, seeing my breath as I raced to the car. About an inch of new snow had fallen during the day while I'd lost myself in video games.
The new layer of white turned Portland into a winter wonderland, and it was almost magical to see it on Christmas Day itself.
I smiled as I slid into the driver's seat of my car. The snow reminded me of home in Minnesota and those endless hockey practice sessions on frozen ponds. Perhaps the universe conspired to make my first Christmas away a little better than it might have been.
My tires crunched on the fresh snow. The sound triggered a flood of memories: Dad teaching me how to drive in winter conditions, snowball fights with the neighbor kids in our driveway, and Mom calling us inside for hot chocolate with giant, puffy marshmallows.
Hang in there, Novak. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. It's just Christmas, snow, and… Moose.
I was downplaying it too much. We'd been dancing around something for weeks now. We'd exchanged dozens of stolen glances, "accidental" touches, and over-the-top laughter at each other's jokes. Would the magic of Christmas make it different?
A driver leaned on his horn when I failed to take off after a stoplight turned green. It snapped me out of my daydreams. Then, I nearly missed a turn. Focus, Finn!
I maneuvered into a parallel parking spot on the street near Moose's building and killed the engine. For a moment, I sat there and stared out through the windshield. The snow started falling again, dropping big flakes that floated leisurely to the ground.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the night. Once inside Moose's building, I took the stairs two at a time, stretching my legs as my pulse quickened.
Moose answered on the second knock, and his broad shoulders filled the doorframe. He wore a cozy Christmas green sweater, and the scents of cinnamon and cloves seemed to encircle him.
"Hey, come on in." He stood to the side. My desire to kiss him upon greeting was almost overwhelming.
The atmosphere inside the apartment was warm and inviting. It was all uniquely… Moose. He'd moved into a refurbished warehouse building, and the space was larger than I expected. The high ceilings, at least twelve feet, maybe fifteen, looked proportionate to his size.
Exposed brick walls lent an industrial chic vibe, but he'd softened it with plush, slightly worn, oversized furniture. It could all comfortably accommodate his large frame. The couch was a dark, midnight blue piled high with throw pillows and knitted blankets.
The famed bubble hockey table had an honored position in one corner of the living room space. I imagined the many hours he'd faced off with Quinn on either side of that.
Moose had piled a neat set of knitting supplies in another corner on a repurposed drafting table. Beside it, skeins of blue, green, and red yarn filled an oversized wicker basket. Laid over the top was a half-finished project. I guessed that it might be a scarf.
Stepping further into the room, with Moose standing silently behind my shoulder, I checked out a set of bookshelves. The books were an eclectic mix, like their owner's interests. Thick biology textbooks rested next to popular business titles like The Tipping Point and Good to Great . He'd dedicated one shelf to worn sci-fi paperback novels.
On a nearby shelf, I spotted a set of framed photos. Quinn featured in a number of them. I also saw a younger Moose.
He interrupted my quiet inspection. "Those were the chubby days."
He'd overplayed his self-assessment. To me, he mostly looked like a kid with rosy cheeks. On either side of him were the adults that I took as his parents. They displayed forced smiles, bringing Moose's comments about their breakup to mind.
The entire apartment, except the bedroom and bathroom, was an open concept. Moose kept his kitchen space impressively tidy. He'd draped a string of tiny multi-colored Christmas lights above the cabinets. He'd nearly covered his fridge door in magnets—NHL team logos, science puns, and individual letters to spell out words.
No single element struck me. It was how effortlessly it all came together to tell Moose's story. The impact was complex and thoughtful, with surprising depth.
I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on a coat rack that looked like a tree. "Nice place. Very you, Moose."
He chuckled and rubbed the top of his head. "Thanks. I think I'm still getting settled. Every day, I move stuff around. You make yourself comfortable, and I'll grab the cookies. Axel's sister decorated them."
As I relaxed on the couch upholstered in worn leather, I realized it was even more comfortable than it looked. Moose joined me with a tray holding a plate piled high with frosted cookies and two mugs of eggnog.
"I better give you a fair warning." He handed me one of the mugs. "This stuff has a kick. You know… Axel."
I sipped the rich, creamy liquid, and it warmed me from the inside out. The added bourbon had a pleasant burn. "Damn, you need to get that recipe."
"I watched… no particular recipe."
"Got it."
Moose settled in beside me. "So, how was your Christmas? I hope it wasn't too bad. Were you by yourself all day?"
I shrugged and picked up a cookie that looked like a lopsided star. "It was quiet except during the long call with my family this morning. Mom cried a little, and Dad tried to be stoic, but that didn't work."
"Oh, that sounds rough."
"It wasn't all bad. In a lot of ways, it was peaceful. I watched TV and didn't have to worry about anybody carping at me to change channels. How was Christmas in Sweden?"
Moose laughed. "That was something else. Axel's family goes all out, and there are only three of them. It all started on Christmas Eve, according to Quinn, and they hadn't completely wound down yet when I left less than an hour ago. Did you know Swedes watch Donald Duck on Christmas Eve?"
I raised an eyebrow. "No."
"Have Quinn or Axel tell you about it sometime. It's a long, complicated story, but they've been watching since the 50s."
I laughed. "Learn something new every day."
"Oh, yeah, that's true, and then there was the food, Finn. So. Much. Food."
"Yeah, you mentioned the fish soaked in lye."
Moose grinned. "That was an experience, but there was a whole lot more. Axel's dad made this potato thing called Jansson's Temptation."
"Sounds tempting," I smirked lightly.
Moose shoved me playfully. "Yeah, it was, smartass. Damn, those curls." He reached out and ran some of my hair through his fingers.
Without even thinking about it, I leaned into his touch. "Feels good."
"I missed you today. That was the only down thing."
The words were powerful to me, and I drank a little more of the eggnog in hopes that the alcohol might calm my nerves. "I… I missed you, too. Being away from home over the holidays isn't easy when you're not used to it."
"Yep, I understand that." Moose leaned in a little closer. His arm pressed against mine. "This whole move has shaken stuff up for me, too. It brings back memories of when my parents split when I'd just started high school, except now Quinn got custody of the Moose."
I chuckled and then caught myself. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm sorry. Just the idea of Quinn having custody struck me as funny."
Moose leaned his head on my shoulder. "Yeah, that is. It's okay." He traced the rim of his mug with his index finger. "It was rough on me when they split, but I tried not to let anybody see that. For a while, I thought at least part of it might be my fault, and I couldn't handle that other people would know. I worried I wasn't a good enough son to keep them together."
I touched his arm. "Moose, you know that's not true, right?"
"Yeah, on my good days."
Silence took over as we ate cookies and sipped eggnog. The city's lights twinkled in the night beyond Moose's large, multi- paned windows. With him leaning against me, I was more relaxed than I'd been in weeks.
Moose broke the quiet. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you ever feel like… like you don't quite live up to what everybody thinks you should be? I mean, you're phenomenal, so I probably shouldn't ask you, but—"
I interrupted. "All the time. I'm always trying to prove to myself and everybody else that I belong here. I constantly worry about whether I'm big enough or tough enough."
Moose reached out for my hand. "You belong on the ice. There are no doubts about that."
More moments of silence followed. I watched as Moose's gaze drifted to his bookshelves. He frowned slightly.
"You okay?" I nudged his shoulder gently.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." Something about how he said it made me think it wasn't entirely true.
"You've got quite a varied collection of books… biology, marketing, sci-fi."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you can see it that way. Sometimes, it makes me think I'm just collecting interests without becoming an expert in any of them."
"What do you mean?"
Moose sighed and ran his hand over his buzzed head. "I mean, look at those books. They're all liking different versions of me I've toyed with. There's the biology nerd, environmental consultant, and now, a sports marketer. Maybe I'm just faking my way through all of it."
He sounded vulnerable, almost fragile. It was a side of Moose I hadn't seen before.
I confronted the negative thoughts. "Having diverse interests doesn't make you fake. It makes you fascinating."
He offered a weak smile. "Maybe, but sometimes I feel like I'm just playing a part in a play or something. Everybody sees this big, confident guy on the outside, but on the inside…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Sorry. I guess I'm just being stupid."
"It's not stupid. I think everybody has their moments that they worry, but you're doing a great job—with the marketing, getting to know the team, and with me."
His voice dropped down to barely above a whisper. "Thanks. I just don't want to let anybody down. Especially not you."
I searched his face, seeing the creases of worry on his forehead. The guy I knew as almost larger-than-life was letting himself be vulnerable around me.
I reached up and touched his cheek. "You could never let me down. You're amazing the way you are."
"Finn, I…"
Words were hard to find. Instead, a magnetic force drew us closer. Moose's gaze dropped to my lips, and then he looked into my eyes. My heart pounded inside my ribcage, and I nodded just enough for him to notice.
He hesitated momentarily, giving me a last chance to pull away. I was done raising questions about our connection and leaned in to close the distance.
Our kiss was soft at first—almost tentative. Then, Moose reached around my waist, and the kiss deepened. I tasted the lingering sweetness from the eggnog on his lips and parted mine to let his tongue inside. His beard scratched against my chin, sending shivers through my body. The first kiss was everything I'd hoped for and more.
I gasped softly as Moose pulled me closer, pressing our bodies tightly together. The solid warmth of his chest against mine anchored me. I reached up to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles beneath his sweater.
We finally broke apart, our breathing fast and shallow. Moose's eyes were open wide, the pupils dilated. "Was that okay?" he asked, his voice husky and uncertain.
My heart swelled at his question, at the care and consideration behind it. I didn't respond in words. Instead, I pulled him back to me, pouring weeks of longing into another passionate kiss. My fingers trailed up to the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs there, and I felt him shudder against me. To combat his earlier vulnerability, I wanted to make him feel, with his entire body, how much he meant to me.
I nibbled gently on his lower lip, relishing the soft moan it brought out. Our tongues danced together, and my heart pounded so hard I was sure he could feel it.
The rest of the world faded away, irrelevant in the face of our intimate connection. Moose's hands roamed my back, each touch igniting sparks under my skin. His moans vibrated through me, making my toes curl. I clung to him, overwhelmed by the intensity of my feelings, by the rightness of it all.
When we separated again, I was a little dizzy, intoxicated not by the eggnog but by Moose himself. I laughed, feeling giddy and lightheaded. "That was… wow. I think it's more than okay."
Moose grinned, his cheeks flushed a deep red that extended down his neck. The kisses left his lips slightly swollen. "Yeah? You liked it?" he asked, with a hint of wonder.
"I did," I breathed, tracing his jawline with my thumb. I gazed into his eyes, seeing my emotions reflected back at me. All of my doubts about whether we should be together were gone, swept away by the tide of affection and desire coursing through me.
My heart celebrated the new connection. "I do think maybe we should keep taking things a little slow. Let's figure this all out."
He nuzzled my neck. "I agree. We've got plenty of time."
I settled up against Moose's chest, listening to the steady pounding of his heart. I'd found my home in Portland.