“I’m not—” I started, but Holloway held up a hand.
“I’m not asking you to confirm or deny anything. I’m just saying—if that’s your situation, you’ve got at least one teammate who wouldn’t give you shit for it. That’s all.” He picked up his beer again. “Figured you should know that. In case it ever matters.”
He moved to the living room, and I followed. I was grateful to see that Wesley and I had at least managed to straighten things enough that there was no obvious evidence of what we’d been doing. The couch looked normal.
“Vancouver was rough.” Holloway changed the subject, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “You played hard, though. Just didn’t get the bounces.”
“Story of the game.” I settled into the armchair rather than the couch, not wanting to sit where Wesley and I had been tangled together minutes ago. “Thursday will be different. Home ice, our fans, fresh start to the regular season.”
“You ready? First home game as captain of a new franchise—that’s a lot of pressure.”
“I’m ready.” The words came out with more confidence than I felt, but that was the performance. The captain who never doubted, never faltered, never revealed the cracks in his perfect image.
We talked about the home opener for another twenty minutes—line combinations Coach Roberts might use, Vegas’s defensive strategies we could exploit, the energy the home crowd would bring. Easy, comfortable conversation between teammates who’d been building trust since training camp.
But underneath it all, I felt the weight of Holloway’s comments settling into my chest. He’d noticed something. And if Holloway had noticed, who else had? How manyother teammates were watching me and Wesley and connecting dots?
When he finally left, leaving the remaining beers and promising to see me at practice the next day, I closed the door and leaned against it. I exhaled with relief and frustration.
Later that evening, my phone buzzed with a text from Wesley—sent from his personal number, not the work account.
Wesley
That was close. You okay?
Griffin
Yeah. Holloway suspects, though.
Wesley
Shit. Did you deny it?
Griffin
I couldn’t even get the denial out convincingly. He said he’s noticed how I look at you. If Holloway sees it, who else does?
Minutes passed as I stared at my phone, wondering if he was going to answer. Then:
Wesley
Hey. Breathe.
Wesley
Holloway’s observant but that doesn’t mean everyone is. We’re okay. We just need to be more careful.
I stared at the text thread, feeling the burden of that truth in my gut. This was my apartment—my private space,the one place I should be able to relax and just exist without putting on a public face. But even here, I couldn’t risk having Wesley over without the constant threat of discovery.
I can’t even have private time in my own home.
The admission felt bitter, angry. I’d agreed to this arrangement—had asked Wesley to enter into a secret relationship despite knowing the risks. But I hadn’t fully calculated how suffocating it would feel to have nowhere that was truly safe, no space where I could just be Griffin instead of Captain Lapierre projecting perfect heterosexuality.
Griffin
I know. I’m sorry. This is harder than either of us expected.
Wesley
