"Final thoughts before we wrap up?" Declan asks.
I look at Jamie, seeing everything we've built reflected in his eyes. "Just... grateful. To the organization, to our teammates, to the fans who've already shown so much support. But mostly..." I squeeze Jamie's hand. "Grateful I don't have to choose between the game I love and the person I love."
Jamie's breath catches at the casual declaration, and I realize what I just said on live television. But you know what? I mean it.
"And we're clear!" someone calls out. The studio energy immediately shifts, crew members moving around, but I'm frozen in place, those words echoing in my head.The person I love.
"Well," Declan says, standing with a knowing smile, "I'd say that was quite successful. Thank you both for trusting me with this."
I manage to nod, but Jamie's thumb hasn't stopped tracing circles on my hand, and I can feel him vibrating with contained energy beside me.
"Take your time," Declan adds quietly. "The studio's booked for another hour. No rush to clear out." Then he's gone, herding the crew toward the door with surprising efficiency.
The moment we're alone, Jamie turns to me. "Did you mean it?"
"I..." My media-polished vocabulary fails me completely when faced with those hopeful blue eyes. "I didn't plan to say it like that. On camera. In front of everyone. But... Yeah. Yeah, I meant it."
His smile could light up the whole damn city. "Good. Because I love you too."
"Even with my color-coded sock drawer?" I try to chirp, but my voice comes out too soft, too raw.
"Especially with your color-coded sock drawer." He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. "I love every ridiculously organized, perfectly controlled, surprisingly soft part of you, Rylan Collings."
"Jamie..."
"You just came out to the entire hockey world," he whispers. "And then casually dropped the L-word on live TV. How are you still so fucking perfect?"
A laugh escapes me. "I'm pretty sure I'm a mess. But maybe..." I squeeze his hand. "Maybe that's okay sometimes."
"It's very okay."
Chapter 40
JAMIE
After yesterday's interview, practice feels different. Even warmups carry a new energy - not the tension I'd feared, but something protective, almost celebratory. Louis casually positions himself between us and the media section during stretches. Charlie chatters more than usual, filling any potentially awkward silences. Even Austin seems determined to create a buffer zone around us, his usual gruff demeanor turned outward like a shield.
"Pirelli." Coach's voice carries across the ice. "Running that new power play setup in tonight's game. You and Collings ready?"
"Yes, Coach." My voice comes out steady despite the flutter in my chest when Rylan glances my way. After three months of careful distance, being able to openly watch him move is intoxicating.
A reporter shouts something I can't quite hear. Austin immediately skates between us and the boards, his expression daring anyone to try getting past him.
"Media availability is after the game tonight," Louis calls out cheerfully, but there's steel under his smile.
The locker room buzzes with pre-game energy. Rylan maintains his captain's composure, but there's something lighter about him now. His usual precise movements feel less rigid, and more natural. When our eyes meet across the room, he doesn't immediately look away.
"Last game before Christmas break," Charlie announces, practically bouncing as he tapes his stick. "Let's give the fans something to remember, yeah?"
Something to remember. Three days ago, we were terrified of anyone knowing about us. Now...
"Movement in the neutral zone!" Rylan's voice cuts through the crowd noise as I track the puck. His captain's tone hasn't changed, but knowing I can look at him now, really look at him... my focus sharpens. The pass connects perfectly - like always.
We're up 2-0 heading into the third. The crowd's energy feels different tonight. During warmups, I spotted two teenage boys holding hands while wearing matching Sasquatch hoodies. The kind of thing I dreamed about when I first came out at nineteen.
"Beautiful feed," Austin grunts as we change lines. Three days ago, he was ready to fight anyone who looked at us wrong. Now he just rolls his eyes when Charlie makes jokes about our "electric chemistry."
A young girl pressed against the glass catches my eye - she's wearing my jersey over Rylan's, somehow taped together into one piece. When I wave, her entire face lights up.
