“I bet it was his idea, wasn’t it? For you to wear his jersey like a darn trophy wife. All to boost up his ego. Heck, next he’ll want you to just quit and sit with the other WAGs. I just—”
“Mom, will you just shut up for a second and listen?” I yell into the phone, my chest heaving with… with anger. The audacity of that woman who calls herself my mother.
“Don’t you talk to your mother like that, Cody Alexander Mitchell! Have you seen the media this morning? Have you even thought for one—”
“Shut up, Mom!” I boom. “Or I’m gonna hang up right now!” I’m trembling and if it weren’t for Luke’s steady hands on me and his solid chest against me, I’m sure I would fall apart. But I don’t. Because there’s no reason to. Because I have, in fact, seen the media this morning. And last night, too, after a reporter from ESPN caught me after the game wearing Luke’s jersey. We’d already discussed it with the team management after we came out to Coach. That there would be no official coming-out show. That it was going to happen organically and in our own time. Or the press’s time, I guess. So… I guess last night just felt like the right time considering my‘I won’t lie about us’statement.
‘Cody Mitchell, I’m sure our viewers would like to know how your knee is doing one-month post-surgery.’
‘It’s going really well. Thank you, Cathy. I have the best team around me, and everything is going according to plan.’
‘Does that mean we can expect you back on the ice soon?’
‘Yeah, not yet. Hopefully, I can start practice with the team after the break, but we’ll just have to see.’ At that point, Lukecame up beside me, post-game and post-victory excitement written all over his face. ‘You know you can’t force stuff like this,’ I continued, and Cathy Garfield, hockey specialist for ESPN for over twenty years, nodded solemnly before she turned towards Luke.
‘Luke Carrington, congratulations on ending the season with a win and a goal. How does it feel?’
‘It feels really good, ma’am. Really darn good,’ Luke beamed, sweat residue beading across his forehead, his breath warm and moist as it wafted along my chin.
‘Aurora won’t be making it to the playoffs. Is that a disappointment?’
‘Well, I’d be lying if I said we wouldn’t love to go, but next year will definitely be ours. I think we can all be proud that we’ve managed to turn the season around and leave our mark.’ Cathy nodded in agreement before looking briefly at me.
‘And it hasn’t gone unnoticed by your fans that you have a super fan cheering for you, wearing your jersey.’ It’s true. It hasn’t gone unnoticed and there’s been quite some speculation as to why. The consensus among the fans, however, has been that we are roomies and team besties. ‘Cody, how come you’re wearing Luke’s jersey? Is he your favorite player on the team?’
‘He is,’ I said, my voice shaking just a tad, Luke’s calming presence next to me. ‘My favorite. And…’ I started, searching Luke’s eyes, finding no trace of doubt or concern in them. Just sheer and utter happiness. And love. So much fucking love that I’m sure Cathy could tell too. That she was close to the scoop of the year if not more. She was practically salivating, her eyes glued to my lips, hanging on to every word. ‘And… because he’s my boyfriend,’ I added.
And that was it. Five inconspicuous words and two kids, one from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and one from Black River, Utah, made hockey history. And while Cathy nearly droppedher microphone and Virtanen yelled,‘Yo, Mitchell, give Daddy some sugar’down the hallway, the internet blew up. It blew the fuck up. And aside from the usual suspects crawling out of their caves, spewing all sorts of ridiculous nonsense about Adam and Eve, the reaction was overwhelmingly supportive. Our fans flipped out, posting their favorite pics of Luke and me, along with rainbow emojis and #loveislove. They freaked out in the best possible way. Much like my mom is freaking out right now, but for entirely different reasons.
“You’re gonna regret this, Cody,” she hisses. “And then you’re gonna come crawling back.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so, Mom,” I sigh, filling my lungs with air, Luke wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Shit, here goes nothing. “I know you lied to me. All those years ago. About Dad.” There’s a gasp on the other end, but she doesn’t deny it. “I’ve found him. And Danny. Or, rather, Luke has. And I’m gonna reach out to them. It’s long overdue. It’s time.”
“That is just ridiculous!” Mom shouts. “To claim that I lied. Me! A God-fearing woman. I haven’t lied once in my life!” Her voice is growing increasingly ugly, nasty, and not really what you would expect from a so-called God-fearing woman. “He doesn’t want you! He never wanted you. He—”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Mom. I’m done listening to all your bullshit lies. And…” I brace myself for the next part, Luke giving me an encouraging nod. And I know I can face anything with him beside me. “And until you’re ready to tell me the truth about what happened back then, I don’t want you in my life. I don’t. I’m done with your manipulation and your lies. Tell me the truth, Mom, or lose my number.”
“Baby, you don’t mean that,” she says, an edge of desperation in her voice when she probably realizes that I’m serious. “Besides, I’m your manager, remember? Youneedme. You’ve always needed me.” What Mom doesn’t know is that I alreadyanticipated her reaction to me coming out. When she checks her email later today, she’ll find a notice from my new manager, provided by the team, that he’ll be taking over as per my request. So, yeah, I don’tneedher. That’s what she doesn’t get and what she’ll probably never get. That I only ever needed her to be my mom and to love me unconditionally and she’s failed miserably at both.
“I do, Mom. I do. I mean it. And the sooner you accept it, the better for both of us. Bye, Mom.” I hang up, my body shivering with excess adrenaline, thebye, Momechoing in my head. Luke takes the phone from my clammy hands, placing it on the island. And then I collapse. I fucking collapse, Luke catching me before I hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Always catching me. Always there. Always mine.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Luke
Dayum, who knew I’dbe steaming hot as a chick? Or hot as a dude who’s dressed like a chick? It gets confusing. I mean, Troye wears dresses all the time. But either way… I really am. Sure, my hockey shoulders look ridiculously big, the pearl choker around my broad neck stretched to the max, but the corset fits perfectly. It took visiting three lingerie stores before I found one that would fit and was black. Because it had to be black. The fishnet stockings I got online, and luckily, they hide the many cuts I got shaving my legs. Fuck, I’ve never shaved my legs before, but Elly insisted.
‘It’s gonna look weird with hair sticking out of the fishnet holes. If you wanna be a girl, you gotta suffer like one.’ In true teen fashion, she rolled her eyes at me over FaceTime while Lilly was doing some TikTok dance in the background. And boy, didI suffer. But it’s worth it though. The black-and-white checkered miniskirt barely hides my ass and I’m going to have to remind myself all night not to bend over too often. Sure, I’m wearing a pair of briefs underneath, but still. I’m going to wearChucksinstead of heels, though, because fuck if I’m going to have Coach on my back if I break a leg. Wouldn’t that be neat, both Cody and I injured?
The blond wig is the cherry on the top. It nearly reaches my waist, thick and luscious, the strands brushing against my naked shoulders. I found it online and I can’t stop playing with it, my fingers itching to toy with the long blond strands constantly. Along with the makeup, I really do look likehimin the video Cody loves. It took me ages to get it just right, a tutorial on how to make smoky eyes and kiss-me-lips saving my ass. Thank you very much, YouTube. I adjust the lipstick one last time before I get ready to surprise my boyfriend. He just got home from his weekly physiotherapy appointment and a grueling rehab session and he’s probably looking at my Antoine Griezmann soccer gear right now, wondering what it’s doing displayed on the kitchen island.
I slide into the kitchen, swaying my hips seductively, trying to keep my face serious, my lips pouty and my eyelids hooded. And yep, Cody is holding up the jersey in front of him, the cutest frown between his brows.
“Luke, why’s Antoine’s jer—” he doesn’t get any further than that, his eyes going impossibly wide when he looks up at me. Gliding up next to him, I brush my fake glitter nails through his sweaty bangs.
“Now, I don’t know who Luke is but when I find him, he’s in massive trouble,” I purr in my best—and yes, pretty dismal—Aussie accent. Cody gulps and then he gulps some more, his eyes glued to the corset. I just knew that it was going to steal the show. It was worth every single dollar and every strenuoussecond I spent prowling the mall to find the perfect one. “Don’t you recognize me, hottie?” I gasp in mock hurt, batting my fake eyelashes. Cody looks at me, tilting his head, taking me in from top to toe, then recognition flashes across his face.
“Troye?” he whispers.
