“Fuck!” I’m ready to punch the wall, but Coach comes around his desk, grabbing my shoulders and stopping me.
“Son, I’m going to give you a little advice.”
I suck in a breath, waiting to hear his words.
“I’m going to tell you what I told my son when he came out to me. Life is hard, but who you choose to love shouldn’t be. Choose your hard, Alex. Whether you choose to continue living in this closet you’ve built around yourself, or stepping out into the light, it’s going to be hard either way. But wouldn’t the hard be easier if you were happy?”
Every single emotion that I’ve been holding in for the last two weeks—hell, since I made the decision not to come out—comes flooding out. The dam bursts open, and I can’t fight the tears as they come.
Coach pulls me in for a hug and I cling to him for dear life.
The number of people who know my sexuality? Four. My parents, Tommy, and Carter.
Now five.
Telling Coach was different. Carter knew. My parents and Tommy also knew. It wasn’t hard coming out to them because they knew.
But Coach didn’t. He’s the first person I’ve made the conscious decision to tell.
A weight I always knew I was carrying lifts off me. I feel a hundred pounds lighter.
From telling one person.
Imagine what it will feel like if I come out to the world.
“You okay?” Coach pulls back.
I take a minute to wipe the tears and steady my breath. “I think so.”
“Good. Anyone you can go home to?”
A furious blush creeps up my cheeks. “That ship has sailed.”
The last thing I want to do is tell Coach that I’ve been sleeping with his son. Not that it matters anyway. We’re not together.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now, go home and don’t talk to anyone until you hear from me. I’ll talk with the team and try and get this sorted out.”
I just hope it doesn’t end with me getting my walking papers.
Chapter One
TROY
“I’m open! Pass the puck.”
The tiny, black rubber disk slides across the gleaming ice. It lands with a crack in the cradle of my stick. Deking around the defenseman, I fly up the ice.
Pushing off my skates, my legs are screaming as I get closer to the net. It’s only me and the goalie.
With practiced ease, I send the puck sailing through the air and watch as it thwacks against the back of the net.
“Hell yeah! That was a great start to practice, Gladiator!” My alternate captain, Marcus, calling me by my nickname, claps me on the shoulder. “If you play like that, we’re going all the way!”
“Don’t jinx us,” someone calls out from next to us.
“Damn, that felt good, Wizard,” I tell Marcus as I skate back to the bench to grab a swig from my water bottle.
I’m breathing hard. No amount of training can ever prepare you for those first weeks of hockey practice after the offseason.
