Page 144 of The Off Limits Captain
“Zach’s not wrong.”
Somewhere past the walls, the ice resurfacer runs its slow circles.
“What are you going to tell media if I’m limited?” Finn asks.
“Medical is handling it.”
“And Peyton Hayes?”
I look at Finn.
“She’s not writing about you.”
“She’s writing about the room. I’m in the room.”
“Not by name.”
“Cap.” Finn says it flat. Not disrespectful. Just real. “You’re with someone who writes about everything we’re not supposed to say out loud. I’m not judging you. I just want to know which direction the information goes.”
I say nothing.
Finn nods. Like that answers it.
He walks away.
Silas is in the next hallway. Not by accident.
“Finn’s status?”
“Medical is handling it.”
“Ryan.”
“I heard you.”
“I need more than that.”
I look at him. “You want more than that.”
Silas’s eyes go flat.
I walk past him to the elevator.
I let the doors close.
I do not call back.
I tell myself I am protecting Finn.
I am also protecting myself from the answer I already have.
Both are true.
Peyton
Ryan shows up at my door with a grocery bag and approximately zero warning.
Eight-thirty on a Tuesday. I am midway through a transcript, hair pinned up with something that might be a pen and might be a chopstick, wearing leggings and a sweater that did not survive the previous winter in great shape.
