The questions were easy and fun, and we answered them without much thought until a thin teenage boy wearing a Pride toque raised his hand. A staff member gave him the mic, and his hand trembled as he held it.
“Um… This is for both of you.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You seem… really close.”
Most of the crowd laughed. The kid’s cheeks flushed, but he went on.
“I wanted to ask if there’s something more, like people are saying online?” His eyes moved between us, full of nervous hope. “Because it would be really cool if there was.”
The crowd went completely silent. My heart was pounding. Next to me, Pack stiffened. He stared at the kid as his face showed a rush of panic, recognition, and fear. Then he forced a smile, but his lips were shaking.
“That’s… wow.” Pack’s laugh was weak. “It’s flattering. Really.” He cleared his throat. “Nix and I are… I mean, Nico and I… We’re here to support the coat drive, and it’s… um…”
He stalled, unusual for him.
The kid’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I?—”
“It’s okay,” I said, turning to Pack and resting my foot on the rung of his stool. “We appreciate the question, but we prefer to keep our private life private.”
The answer sounded smooth, even professional, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The part about keeping things private was real. The lie was what I left out:Yes, you’re right. We’re together. You deserve to know that people like you are everywhere, including pro hockey.
The kid nodded, and it hurt to see the hope fade from his eyes. He’d worn a Pride toque to a hockey event in Buffalo. Itmust have been scary to raise his hand in a crowd of strangers and ask two pro athletes if they were queer. That took a ton of courage.
And what did I do? I smiled and shut him down.
Some of the tension eased in Pack’s shoulders. I wanted to hold his hand and tell him it was okay, but I didn’t move. That would have been worse than telling the kid yes.
The organizer cleared his throat and asked a safe question about our favorite road cities. The crowd finally moved, and there were a few relieved sighs. It seemed like everyone was glad to move on.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I kept looking at the kid. He sat with his arms crossed, toque pulled down, talking to the girl beside him. He looked okay. Maybe he really was.
I remembered being that age, searching for proof that someone like me could fit in places that seemed unwelcoming. I remembered how much even small signs of hope meant.
And we’d just told him to look somewhere else.
The next question was about playoff predictions, and Pack answered easily. As he moved his hand to make a point, it brushed mine. It might have been an accident, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
I answered the next question on autopilot, smiling and nodding, but my mind was focused on the box Pack and I were in, and the kid wearing the Pride toque.
I’m sorry we couldn’t be what you needed today. Maybe someday we will.
The organizer moved us through the last questions quickly. Pack answered smoothly, back to his professional self, but I could see tension under the surface.
Afterward, we spent another hour skating with fans, posing for photos, and signing more autographs. Pack smiled for the cameras and was patient with all the kids who wanted to showhim their slapshot form or get advice from one of Buffalo’s biggest stars. I wished everything could be that easy for him.
As the afternoon faded into twilight, we headed back to his SUV. He was quiet during the drive home. After a few minutes, he took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back, and we held on until he had to shift gears.
He let out a long breath as soon as the front door closed behind us.
While we hung up our coats, I asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” His hand trembled as he dropped his keys into a bowl.
“Pack.”
“What that kid asked? I thought I’d be ready, but I wasn’t.” He looked at me, eyes wet. “I know I should’ve said yes. It would have meant so much to him, but I was…” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I was too scared. I’m sorry.”
I held his face in my hands. “You handled it.Wehandled it. No one’s upset, especially not me.”
He swallowed, and his voice shook. “I’ll do better.”
