But the safe choice was killing us both.
I thought about Griffin Lapierre. About Wesley Hutton, his partner. Griffin had come out over two months ago. And they’d survived. Were still together. Griffin was still playing, still respected.
How had they done it? How had they navigated coming out in professional hockey and not lost everything?
I pulled out my phone—11:53 p.m. Late, but maybe Étienne was still awake.
Marco
Are you awake?
The reply came immediately.
Étienne
Yes.
Marco
Can I come up?
A long pause.
Étienne
Okay.
I pulled on my hoodie—hood up—checked the hallway, and headed for the stairs.
When Étienne opened the door this time, his expression was wary, hopeful, scared. I stepped inside, and he closed the door behind me, engaging the security latch again.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
I looked at him—exhausted, beautiful, waiting—and my gut settled.
“I can’t lose you,” I said. “And I can’t keep doing this either.”
His eyes widened slightly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” I took a breath. “We play Portland on Sunday. Griffin Lapierre. Wesley Hutton. What if we talk to them? Ask them how they did it. How Griffin came out, how they made it work.”
Étienne went still. “Not a bad idea.”
“I don’t know if I can do what they did. I don’t know if I’m brave enough. But I think… I think we need help. We need someone who’s been through this to tell us if there’s a way forward.”
“You’re not saying we’re coming out.”
“No. I’m saying we’re asking for help. Asking if it’s even possible. And then we decide together what to do with that information.”
His gaze searched mine, looking for a certainty I didn’t have. “What changed? Last night you were?—”
“Last night I was terrified. I’m still terrified.” I moved closer. “But today—watching us both fall apart, playing like shit because we’re both so distracted, knowing that we’re going to keep spiraling if nothing changes—I can’t do that either. So maybe we don’t have to decide everything tonight. Maybe we just take the first step. Talk to people who’ve done it. See if there’s a path we can’t see yet.”
Étienne’s expression shifted, hope breaking through the exhaustion. “You’d really do that? Talk to them?”
“I don’t know if I can do what they did. But I’m willing to listen. To ask. To try to figure out if there’s any version of this where we don’t lose everything.”
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then he reached out, his hand finding mine.
