“Jace—” Mom started.
“I love him,” I said simply. “And I know that complicates everything. I know it puts both our careers at risk. I know it's not what you wanted for me. But it's real, and I'm not going to apologize for it.”
Mom's eyes went bright. Dad was very still.
Grant stepped forward slightly, and I felt his presence steady me. “Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, I know this isn't what you wanted for your son. I know the optics are terrible and the situation is complicated.” His voice was calm, measured. “But I need you to know that Jace is the most remarkable person I've ever coached. He's brilliant and dedicated and works harder than anyone I've ever met. And yes, I'm in love with him.”
“But more than that,” Grant continued, “I respect him. I've never made a coaching decision based on our relationship. I've benched him when he needed to be benched. I push him when he needs to be pushed. And I will always prioritize his health and career over anything else.”
Dad studied Grant for a long moment. “You're asking us to trust that you can separate your personal feelings from your professional obligations.”
“I'm telling you I already have. Every day.” Grant's voice was firm. “And I'll continue to do so. Because Jace's future matters more to me than my own comfort.”
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle.
Dad looked between us, processing everything we'd just told them. Then he asked the question I'd been dreading. “How serious is this? Because if it's just... if you're just—” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable. “I need to know if this is worth the risk you're both taking.”
Grant met his eyes without flinching. “The truth is that your son is my boyfriend. The public doesn't know that yet—we're being careful about how and when we confirm it because of the media pressure. But privately? Yes. We're together. And it's serious.”
Boyfriend.
And I couldn't help it—I smiled.
Leah caught it and rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you're so gone for him.”
“Shut up,” I said, but I was still smiling.
Mom moved first. She walked over to me, cupped my face in her hands, and looked at me with eyes that were too bright. “You're happy?”
“Yeah, Mom. I'm happy.”
“Then that's what matters.” She turned to Grant. “Coach Sutherland?—”
“Grant. Please.”
“Grant.” She smiled slightly. “Thank you for taking care of my son. For seeing him as a person instead of just a player.”
“It's easy when the person is worth seeing,” Grant said quietly.
Dad cleared his throat. “I need some time to process this. It's... a lot.”
“I know,” I said. “Take your time. But Dad? He's important to me. And I need you to try.”
Dad looked at Grant, then at me, and I saw something soften in his expression. “Alright. I'll try.” He paused. “But if you hurt him, Coach, we're going to have a problem.”
“Understood,” Grant said.
Leah walked over and pointed at Grant. “If I find out you're taking advantage of him in any way—emotionally, professionally, whatever—I will end you. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good.” She turned to me. “And you. Stop hiding shit from us. We're your family. We can handle it.”
“I know. I'm sorry.”
She pulled me into a hug, and I felt the tightness in my chest ease slightly.
Mom ushered us toward the kitchen. “Alright, enough drama. Everyone sit down. I made banana bread, and Jace brought donuts which means someone's getting spoiled.” She looked at Grant. “Do you drink coffee, Grant?”
