"This isn't Florida,"he continues more gently.
No," I agree quietly. "Down there... One of the first guys to welcome me was Nathan Leblanc. He made this big show of not caring that I was bi. We hung out a lot those first few months."
"But?"
"Something changed." I run a hand through my hair, remembering the frustration I felt, and how confused I was. "Almost overnight. One day we were grabbing coffee, talking about music, normal shit. The next he was..." Jamie swallows hard. "He started making comments. Little digs at first, then bigger ones. By the end, he was leading the charge to make my life hell."
"I'm sorry, that must have been rough," Carson says.
"Yeah. That was almost worse than the other stuff. The open harassment was easier to understand… I mean some people are just fucktards. But I never figured out why someone who'd been a friend suddenly hated me."
"Well, I'm happy things are better now. You've got a whole organization behind you here. Your teammates value you, and I don't meanjustyour hockey skills, butyou. The way you helpthe rookies, the way you've embraced our team culture. Your work ethic, your positive attitude. You've shown us who you are in averyshort time, Pirelli. You should be proud of yourself. You're a big asset to this team and I'm happy as hell I took the risk to bring you to the Sasquatch."
"Thanks, Carson."My voice comes out rough.
He nods once."Show those fucks what they lost tonight."
Rylan's waiting for me when I get back to the locker room. He's leaning against the wall, all casual-like, butjustseeing him settles something inside me.
"Everything okay?"he asks quietly.
I look at him—reallylook at him. This man who's become so much more thanjusta teammate. Who makes me believe I deserve more than what I've had in the past.
"Yeah,"I say softly. "Everything's okay.
Chapter 32
JAMIE
The familiar pulse of pre-game warmups thrums through me as we take the ice. Normally I love the anticipation, but tonight my stomach is churning unpleasantly. Florida's dark jerseys blur in my peripheral vision because I refuse to give them my attention until I have to, focusing instead on my team.
"Don't let them in your head," Louis told me earlier, his usual playful demeanor replaced by fierce protectiveness. "They're just another team now. You're one of us."
His words echo as I send another puck top shelf, earning appreciative taps from Charlie and Gino. Even Austin's usual gruff energy feels supportive; like he's daring anyone to mess with me. The team forms a loose circle around me during warmups. It's nothing obvious, but I'm never left exposed.
Nathan Leblanc is staring me down from the visitors' bench, his glare like a physical weight on my chest. But I refuse to look his way. Fucker's not worth it. My attention stays where it belongs: on the crisp passes Rylan keeps sending me. We're on the same wavelength tonight, our connection smooth andinstinctive, like we’ve been playing together for years instead of months.
The memory of my first NHL goal slams into me: Nate throwing his arm around my shoulders, bellowing proudly "That's my rookie!" while the guys mobbed us both. What should be a fond memory is tainted now though, poisoned by how fast he turned on me after that.Shit, my head's not in it. An easy pass from Gagnon sails right past me.Goddammit.
"Hey." Rylan appears beside me, close enough that I can hear him over the crowd noise. "Stay with me."
The quiet command in his voice centers me. His eyes hold mine for a moment, and his quiet confidence steadies me.
"We're ready." He says as we line up for the opening faceoff.
When the puck drops, everything else falls away.
During the first shift, Leblanc tries to line me up along the boards, but Santucci, the big, grouchy defenseman appears out of nowhere, a wall of muscle forcing him to pull up. The message is clear: not here, motherfuckers. Not in our house.
We go up 1-0 early on Charlie's wrister from the slot. The crowd roars as we celebrate, my teammates' bodies forming a protective circle around me during the celly. I catch Vladimir Belov sneering from Florida's bench, but his hatred is distant and meaningless now.
During the second period, things start to get chippy. Every hit gets finished a bit harder than necessary, and every scrum ends with an "accidental" elbow or borderline high stick. Leblanc shadows me constantly, muttering taunts just quiet enough the officials can't hear.
"Hey, Pirelli, found another 'straight' guy to corrupt, eh?"
I grit my teeth and keep skating.Let that shit roll off.Water off a duck's back.I'm not that same nervous kid trying to prove himself anymore.
The puck finds me in the neutral zone while Rylan breaks up the left side. Pure instinct takes over, no need to look, I know where he'll be. The pass connects perfectly, but before I can follow the play, Leblanc catches me with a late hit.
