I stared into the flames, watching them twist and curl, and tried to find the words for what I'd been thinking since the hike.
“I'm scared,” I said. “I’m scared of being seen as breakable. In hockey. By the team. By everyone.” I paused, swallowed hard. “Because if they see me as weak, I lose everything.”
Grant was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful. “You get to decide how you're seen. Not them.”
“That's not how it works.”
“It is if you make it work.” He turned to face me, firelight catching in his eyes. “You think being honest about who you are makes you weak? It's the opposite. It takes more strength to be yourself in a world that wants you to perform than it does to hide.”
“What if they don't want me anymore?”
“Then they were never worth having.” His hand tightened around mine. “But I don't think that's what'll happen. I think you're going to walk back into that room and half of them won't care and the other half will realize they've been underestimating you this whole time.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that coming out wouldn't cost me everything I'd built. But the fear was still there. “What if you're wrong?”
“Then we deal with it.” He squeezed my hand. “You're not doing this alone, Jace. Whatever happens, I'm here.”
I stared into the fire and felt the decision crystallize. Not because I wasn't scared. But because hiding was starting to feel worse than the risk of being seen.
“I want to come out,” I said.
Grant didn't react right away. Just kept holding my hand, kept watching me with those steady eyes that saw too much. Then he asked the only question that mattered. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” My voice came out stronger than I expected. “I'm sure. Because hiding—it's starting to feel like another injury I'm playing through. And I'm tired of pretending I'm fine when I'm not.”
Grant nodded slowly, and I saw something shift in his expression. Pride, maybe. Or relief. “Okay.”
“I don't even know where to start.”
“Start with who matters most.” He shifted on the log, angling toward me. “Your parents. What are they like?”
My stomach twisted at the thought. “Complicated. My dad's... he's a hockey dad. Always has been. He wanted me to be a star before I even knew what that meant. And coming out—” I stopped, shook my head. “I don't know how he'll take it.”
“And your mom?”
“She'll be supportive. I think. She's always been the softer one. But she won't stand up to him if he reacts badly.” I felt my throat tighten. “I'm more scared of disappointing them than I am of the media or the fans or anyone else.”
Grant was quiet for a moment, thumb brushing across my knuckles. “You can't control how they react. You can only control what you say and how you say it. And if they can't accept you, that's their failure. Not yours.”
“Easy to say.”
“Not easy to live through. But true.” He paused, then asked, “What do you hope happens?”
I'd been so focused on the fear that I hadn't let myself imagine the best-case scenario. “I hope... I hope my dad surprises me. I hope my mom tells me she already knew and she's been waiting for me to be ready. I hope they tell me they love me no matter what.” My voice cracked slightly. “And I hope they mean it.”
“They might.” Grant's voice was soft. “And if they don't right away, that doesn't mean they won't get there eventually. People need time to adjust sometimes.”
“Yeah.” I stared into the fire, feeling the weight of what I was about to do. “Parents first, then. That's the order.”
“Then what?”
“Then the team. Then...” I trailed off, unsure how far I wanted to take this.
“Then the world, if you want to,” Grant finished. “But only if you want to. You don't owe anyone a public announcement. You get to control that narrative.”
I looked at him, saw the firelight catching in his grey eyes, saw the worry and the pride and the fucking care written all over his face. “You really think I can do this?”
“I know you can.” He reached up, cupped my face with his free hand. “You're one of the toughest people I know, Jace.”
