“Understood.”
“We’ll schedule the presser for Sunday afternoon. That gives us time to prepare, to brief ownership and legal, to get Coach Roberts on board.”
Roughly forty-eight hours from now. Forty-eight hours to prepare for the moment that would change everything.
“I’ll be ready.”
“Good. Griffin—” Owen’s voice softened again. “I meant what I said. What you’re doing takes real courage. I’m proud to have you as captain, regardless of what happens next.”
The words hit me harder than I’d expected, validation from someone whose respect I’d been desperate to maintain. “Thank you, sir. That means more than you know.”
“Get some rest. Prepare yourself mentally. With the game and the press conference, this weekend is going to be intense.”
The call ended, and I sat in the silence of my apartment and processed what I’d just set in motion. Sunday, I would sit in front of cameras and reporters and announce what I’d been hiding for sixteen years. Would become the first player to come out. Would either be celebrated as a pioneer or destroyed as a distraction.
But more importantly, I would be honest. Genuine. Myself.
The fear was still there—my terror that being openly gay would make me worthless, that authenticity would cost me everything I’d worked for, that I’d prove Colorado right about being expendable.
But my love for Wesley was stronger than the fear. My desire to stop hiding, to stop performing, to stop measuring my worth through others’ perception—that was stronger too.
I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Wesley, breaking Owen’s orders.
Griffin
I’m coming out. Sunday presser. Need your help.
The response came within seconds.
Wesley
Griffin, no. Are you doing this for me? Don’t sacrifice your career because of what happened today.
I stared at the screen, then typed back quickly.
Griffin
I’m not doing this just for you. I’m doing it for myself. I have to live my true life. I can’t hide anymore. But we need to talk about it. Can I come over?
Three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. The wait felt interminable.
Wesley
Come over. We have work to do.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, purpose and fear and hope all tangled together in my chest.
Sunday, I would come out. Would take control of my narrative.
And I would do it with Wesley’s help and blessing, the person who’d helped me find the courage to be myself, who’d risked everything for me, who deserved better than being suspended while I hid.
I was doing the right thing. I had to believe that.
I just hoped that when the dust settled, we’d both still be standing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Wesley
