Chapter 14
Freddie
My head is spinning when Falkenberg puts me down. The air’s noticeably colder and I wrap my arms around myself, ignoring the throbbing sensation in my ankle. I can’t believe he just did that. If I were more like Elle, I’d consult Mateo about how to sue him.
“Hey, Ines.” Falkenberg knocks on the side of the nurse’s door.
A middle-aged woman with dark, gray-streaked hair in a ponytail, brown skin and glasses swivels in her chair to look at us.
“Already, Mattias?” She clicks her tongue.
“Not me. The ice princess hurt her ankle.”
“It’s Freddie,” I snap at him. I won’t have Falkenberg belittling and undermining me in front of the team, let alone rink staff.
He gives me a sharp look that says, I don’t give a shit.
I see through it. I know that I’m under his skin like an infant Xenomorph.
His feigned calm might have worked at first, but I know his game now.
He’s one of those aloof types who’s desperately trying to present himself as in control, but I’d bet the family trust there’s a Patrick Bateman in there somewhere, waiting to let loose.
His wardrobe is probably organized by color.
I bet he freaks out if different food groups touch on his plate.
He probably never leaves his little old man apartment without checking off every box in some unnecessarily tedious routine that definitely involves aggressive tooth flossing and an excessive amount of push-ups.
My ruminations on the team captain and his capacity for murder, and whether he’s more of a Norman or a Patrick, are brought to a swift end when Ines helps me over to the examination chair. My cheeks heat, knowing Falkenberg’s watching, but I refuse to look at him.
“Follow up with Coach Marshall when you have the results,” he says bossily from over my shoulder, as if I couldn’t have deduced that myself.
“Don’t you have practice to worry about, Mattias?” Ines replies, making me grin.
“Theoretically, but someone is making a habit of wasting my time.” His cold eyes flit over me, his expression hard.
“Fuck off, Falkenberg,” I say, giving him another middle finger for good measure. He’s going to ruin this for me if I don’t keep him in check, I can feel it.
“Just let me know if you two need me to call an ambulance,” he replies.
I glare at him and he disappears. Dick.
“Are you trying to upset the Captain?” Ines smiles at me. “He doesn’t usually talk so much.”
“He upset me first. Asshole.”
Ines tsks. “Well, let’s hear about what you’ve done here. How did this happen?”
I proceed to tell Ines how I’ve twisted my ankle. She tsks again, examining it.
“Is this your first time on skates? You need to be more careful. It’s turning red as a tomato.”
“I was being careful, but that won’t help if these guys are out to get me. Falkenberg’s made it clear I’m not welcome.”
Nor should you be, says a little voice in my head. I force myself to ignore it.
“You’re the movie maker, hmm?” She tilts her head, looking up at me with warm, dark eyes.
“Trying to be,” I sigh, feeling more brittle than usual. It’s getting harder and harder to refer to myself as a filmmaker, given that I have no agent and no notable credits to show for myself.
Ines must pick up on that, because she says, “Don’t let those boys get into your head. They’re good for chasing pucks around, but they don’t really know what they’re talking about.”
The smile she gives me feels conspiratorial, like this isn’t a thought she voices often.
It warms me up a little—only for me to shiver when she slaps an ice pack on my ankle.
It’s supremely less comfortable than Falkenberg’s gentle fingers.
There was something mesmerizing about watching him undo my skates, something uncomfortably intimate, almost like being undressed.
I’ve never had a man on his knees in front of me like that, even if fully clothed. The memory makes my stomach flutter.
Margot’s right. Falkenberg is admittedly attractive, but in the same way one might feel drawn to an electric fence, inspiring both morbid curiosity and a firm desire to stay away. It doesn’t help that he has a uniquely displeased mouth, and there’s something so rewarding about making him frown—
“I’m going to refer you to an MRI specialist, just to be safe.” Ines breaks my completely unprofessional train of thought.
I groan as her words sink in. Man, I really don’t have time for this.
The short week of pre-production I had was barely enough to lay out my plans for the entirety of the season.
Even though I’ve managed to get some homework done, I still don’t have a comprehensive understanding of the team.
Hopefully my father won’t hear about any of this.
To Falkenberg’s point, he could easily replace me with someone more experienced if I give him reason to, and just like that, my twenty-five million dollars and independent future would disappear.
I need to find a way to earn the team’s respect and keep it.
I’ll need them to work with me if I want to get the best shots, the best interviews, and ultimately raise the team’s value.
Unfortunately, that’s probably not going to happen without capturing the respect of their captain. As much as it pains me to say it, I’m going to need Falkenberg on my side. One way or another, I’m going to have to win him over.
Suddenly, taking some time off with a sprained ankle doesn’t sound so bad.