I’m okay, Mom. I know this is a lot. We can talk tomorrow. Love you too.
I scrolled through more messages—former teammates supporting me, organizations praising my courage, media outlets requesting interviews. Three texts from unknown numbers caught my attention.
Unknown
Thank you for going first. Been closeted my whole career. Seeing you do this makes me think maybe I can too someday.
Unknown
You’re braver than I’ll ever be. But knowing you’re out there playing openly gives me hope.
Unknown
Maybe someday I can do this too. Thanks for showing it’s possible.
Other players. Had to be. Athletes who couldn’t come out themselves but found hope in watching me do it.
The weight of that responsibility settled over me—heavier than any pads I’d ever worn.
I left the facility and drove home on autopilot, processing everything. My apartment felt too quiet when I arrived, the silence oppressive after the chaos.
I couldn’t be alone with this. Couldn’t process the magnitude of what had happened without Wesley.
Griffin
Can I come over?
Wesley
Already expecting you. Door’s unlocked.
Relief flooded through me. I grabbed my keys and drove to Wesley’s apartment, the familiar route grounding me.
His door was unlocked as promised. I knocked anyway, then let myself in.
Wesley stood in his living room, dressed casually in jeans and a worn gray T-shirt, his expression showing everything—concern and pride and love tangled together.
He didn’t say anything. Just opened his arms.
I crossed to him and let him hold me, my face pressed into his shoulder, his arms wrapped around me with solid certainty. The tension I’d been carrying since the press conference finally released.
“You did it,” Wesley murmured against my hair. “You were incredible. So brave. So strong.”
“I’m terrified.” The admission came out muffled against his shoulder. “The entire world knows now. Everyone’s talking about it. I can’t take it back.”
“You wouldn’t want to take it back.” Wesley’s hand rubbed slow, comforting circles on my back. “Even if you could.”
“No.” That much was true. Despite the fear and the tremendous response and the sudden loss of privacy, I didn’t regret it. “I wouldn’t.”
We stood there for a long moment, Wesley holding me together while I processed the day’s emotional upheaval.Finally, he pulled back slightly. His hands framed my face, and his brown eyes searched mine.
“Come on. Let’s sit. You can tell me everything.”
We moved to his couch, and I collapsed onto it with an exhaustion that went beyond physical. Wesley settled beside me, close enough that our thighs touched, his presence steady and reassuring.
“It’s everywhere.” I pulled out my phone to show him the trending hashtags, the news articles, the explosion of social media, and the messages I received. “I’m trending worldwide. People I’ve never met are talking about me. Organizations are calling me a hero. And I just—I don’t know what to think about any of it.”
Wesley took my phone, scrolled through some reactions, his expression thoughtful. “The response is mostly positive. That’s significant, Griffin. More support than backlash.”
