Free Talk to Me by Clare James

second. Still, I wouldn’t take her that way, drunk and careless. I wanted her to remember every last detail with me.
    I brought her home that night and she passed right out. And when I checked in on her in the morning, she didn’t remember a thing. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to fill her in, so I let it go. I didn’t want her embarrassed or regretful. I had one chance, and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.
    So we started slow. Grabbing a coffee here and there. Meeting for morning runs. It was cold now, so I was deprived the guilty pleasure of ogling her in little shorts. But I rather enjoyed her running tights as well. I enjoyed almost everything about her.
    One morning, her slower strides and quiet way told me something was off.
    “Something wrong?” I asked.
    “Nothing,” she said. “Just work.”
    “The Mole again?”
    “Yes, but forget it. It’s not worth talking about.”
    “Your career is worth talking about, Case. What’s going on?”
    “Do you think I come off as a bitch?” she asked, her voice slightly shaking, from the cold or something else, I couldn’t tell.
    “No,” I said without a thought. “Why do you ask?”
    “Phil thinks I need to be warmer, more laid back on air.”
    It wasn’t the first time she told me about her run-ins with the sports director. The reckless side of me had already mentally beaten him to a pulp a few times. The more time I spent with Casey, the more protective of her I became.
    “I know for someone like Phil, no brains and squeaky giggles are the ultimate turn on. But trust me, you have a following.”
    “What do you mean? There are hardly any comments on my Facebook page, my Twitter account is a poor comparison to Mack’s, and I don’t even have any raunchy calls coming into the station for me like the other women.”
    “You want raunchy calls?”
    “You know what I mean. I don’t want to be looked at that way, but I still wonder why I’m not. Does that even make sense?”
    “Casey, men (and I’m sure some women) definitely look at you that way . If you could only hear the filthy thoughts I have going on in my head any time I see you.”
    “Stop.”
    “I’m serious.”
    Casey bit her lip and I knew I was making her uncomfortable, but it was time she knew my intentions. We had completely ignored what had happened that day she fell off her bike. Hardly mentioned it. Same with her drunken episode at the bar. We ran, made small talk, and joked around.
    Occasionally, Casey asked me questions about hockey, and I asked her questions about journalism. It was an easy friendship, despite the fact that there was so much heat beneath the exterior I could hardly stand it. I knew she felt it too, and I was tired of easy.
    I stopped and gripped her shoulders so she’d know how serious I was. “You are amazing at your job; you are sexy as hell; and you don’t have to sell out.”
    “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” she said.
    “As long as it takes,” I told her. “I see good things coming your way, Casey Scott. Just hang in there.”
    I meant every word.

Chapter 17
    BEEP (n.):
    An audio signal used for alerting or warning.
    Something I missed completely.

    Casey

    As the weeks passed, I knew I was gaining Finn’s trust. He had already gained mine. And I struggled with it every day. Especially as he opened up to me more and more.
    “You know, we’ve never really talked about that day at the house,” he said one December afternoon. “I still owe you an explanation for my behavior.”
    If he only knew how much I thought about it.
    “You don’t have to tell me a thing, Finn,” I told him. “I’m sure you had groupies and women bothering you all the time.”
    “Well, that is true,” he said. “But that’s not what that day was about.”
    “What was it about then?”
    “A glimpse at my past, I’m sorry to say. By the time I got to the NHL I wasn’t doing so hot, Casey. I was out of control … in many ways. I indulged on