Wesley was quiet for a long moment. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be surprised by how many people would support you. And if you ever do decide to come out—whether that’s next year or ten years from now—I’ll help you control the narrative. That’s what I’m good at. You won’t have to face that alone. But I also understand why the risk feels too great.”
“Michael’s concerned about us specifically.” I addressed the elephant in the room. “About you being openly gay and me spending time with you. He thinks it looks inappropriate, that people might speculate.”
“Is he wrong?” Wesley’s voice was gentle but direct. “We have been spending time together. More than work requires.”
“No. He’s not wrong.” I met Wesley’s eyes, suddenly exhausted by the weight of pretense. “I’m attracted to you. Have been since we met. And every conversation we have, every moment we spend together, makes it harder to maintain the boundaries I know I should be maintaining.”
Wesley’s expression was unreadable. “Griffin?—”
“I know. I know it’s complicated. I know it’s risky. I know all the reasons this is a bad idea.” I ran a hand across my buzz cut, frustration bleeding into my voice. “Michael told you to maintain professional boundaries, and he was probably right to do so. I’m your colleague. You’re trying to rebuild your career, and getting involved with a closeted player could destroy everything you’re working toward.”
“That’s not what concerns me,” Wesley said quietly. “What concerns me is that you’ve spent your entire career hiding who you are. That you’ve built your success on a foundation of secrecy and image. I don’t want to be anotherthing you have to hide, another complication you have to manage.”
The insight cut deeper than I’d expected. “You wouldn’t be.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Wesley’s smile was sad. “If something happened between us, it would have to be completely secret. No public acknowledgment, no normal relationship milestones, nothing that could create questions or speculation. Hell, if nothing else, the team has a policy of no-fraternization with the players. I’d be your dirty little secret, and you’d be mine.”
“It’s not like that?—”
“Isn’t it?” Wesley crossed his arms. “I understand why you’re closeted, Griffin. I understand the pressures and the risks. But I also need you to understand something—I spent years in a relationship with someone who wanted to keep me hidden. Someone who was more concerned with appearances than with being with me. I won’t do that again.”
The words stung because they held truth I couldn’t refute. What could I offer Wesley except exactly what he’d just described? Secrecy, hidden moments, constant vigilance about who might see us together.
“Michael was right about the professional boundaries,” Wesley continued, his voice gentler now. “Not because I can’t control myself around men—that’s insulting bullshit. But because whatever’s developing between us is already more than professional, and continuing down this path would complicate both our lives in ways neither of us can afford.”
I wanted to argue, to say that we could figure it out, that exploring the connection between us was worth the risk. But standing in Wesley’s office, hearing him articulate the reality of what a relationship would mean, I couldn’t find the words.
Because he was right. About all of it.
“I don’t regret telling you,” I said finally. “About beinggay. You deserved to know, especially after what happened with Turner.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Wesley’s expression was warm despite the heaviness of the conversation. “And I meant what I said—your secret is completely safe with me. Whatever happens going forward, that doesn’t change.”
“Thank you.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re incredibly brave. Not just for coming out to me, but for surviving sixteen years in professional hockey while hiding who you are. That takes a kind of strength most people never have to find.” Wesley paused and his expression softened with understanding. “It must be incredibly lonely.”
“It is,” I said, the admission scraping raw in my throat. “And it will continue to be. That’s just… the reality I’ve accepted.”
Wesley clasped his hands together, as if to put an end to the conversation. His expression shifted and became more professional, though warmth remained in his eyes. “Are you ready to talk about your schedule? We have several appearances coming up that need coordinating.”
I nodded, grateful for the return to safer territory. We spent the next fifteen minutes going over upcoming events. He walked me through talking points for each, his competence and attention to detail making what should have been overwhelming feel manageable. By the time we finished, the emotional weight of our earlier conversation had settled into something we could both carry without it consuming us.
After I left Wesley’s office, I walked through the facility in a daze, Wesley’s words echoing in my head.I won’t be another thing you have to hide.
I’d finally told someone the truth about who I was, and instead of bringing us closer, it had created a new distance.Whatever we felt for each other couldn’t go anywhere without one of us sacrificing something fundamental.
Wesley wouldn’t hide. I couldn’t come out. The team wouldn’t allow us to be together.
Which meant despite the attraction, despite the connection, despite finally having someone who knew the truth about me—we were at an impasse neither of us knew how to resolve.
I thought about Turner’s sneer, Michael’s warnings, the careful image I’d spent years constructing. The price of success had always been high, but somehow I’d never calculated the cost of never being able to be myself with someone I cared about.
Maybe that was the real sacrifice—not just hiding from the world, but accepting that the hiding meant I couldn’t have the things other people took for granted. Relationships built on honesty. Love without secrecy. Someone who could be proud to be with me instead of having to pretend we were just colleagues.
Wesley was right to draw boundaries. He deserved someone who could offer him more than stolen moments and constant fear of discovery.
But knowing he was right didn’t make walking away from him any easier.
