Griffin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So. What’s going on?”
I looked at Marco. He looked back at me. One of us had to start.
“We’re together,” I said finally. “Marco and I. We’re… in a relationship.”
Griffin’s expression didn’t change—he’d clearly guessed—but he nodded encouragingly. “Okay.”
“And we’re…” I took a breath. “We’re trying to figure out if we can do what you did. Come out. Be together openly. Or if we’re just… if it’s impossible.”
Griffin sat back, his blue eyes moving between us. “How long have you been together?”
“About six weeks,” Marco said. “As a couple. But we’ve been living together for almost three months. Since a fire at Étienne’s apartment building.”
“And you’re sure?” Wesley asked gently. “About each other, I mean. This isn’t just… proximity or convenience or?—”
“I’m sure,” I said, and my voice came out fiercer than I intended. “I love him. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Marco’s hand found mine on the couch between us, squeezed briefly, then let go. But the message was clear.Same.
Griffin passed a hand over his short hair—the same gesture I remembered from when we’d played together, the tell that meant he was thinking hard. “Coming out is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder than any game, any season, any injury. It changes everything. Your family, your team, your career, the way fans look at you on the street. You need to understand that before you make this decision.”
“But?” I pressed, because I could hear the unspoken word hanging there.
“But…” Griffin continued. “Living in the closet was killing me. Slowly. Every day. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t, hiding the most important part of my life, watching Wesley and not being able to touch him or claim him or just… exist with him. That was worse than anything that happened after I came out.”
Wesley leaned forward. “Can I ask—are you out to anyone? Family? Friends?”
“My sister knows,” Marco said quietly. “She’s known for years. But Étienne just realized he’s bisexual.”
“But your families don’t know you’re together? Friends? A teammate?”
We both shook our heads.
Wesley’s expression grew serious. “Okay. So, you’re starting from scratch. That makes it harder, but it’s also cleaner in some ways. You get to control the narrative from the beginning.”
“We had a close call recently,” I admitted. “Boucher has made some comments and he’s been watching us. We think he suspects something.”
Griffin’s jaw tightened. “Boucher. I thought we were friends. But then he showed his true colors. When I came out, he was one of the guys who made it… difficult.”
“Difficult how?” Marco asked.
“Nothing overt. Passive-aggressive comments on social media. Made sure I knew he didn’t approve.” Griffin’s tone was flat. “Some guys are like that. They won’t confront you, but they’ll make you feel it.”
“That’s what he’s doing now,” I said. “Even though we’re not out. It’s like he’s waiting for us to slip up so he can?—”
“Expose you,” Wesley finished. “Yeah. That’s dangerous. Because if someone else controls when and how you come out, you lose all the power.
“That’s what happened to me,” Wesley continued, and something painful flickered across his face. “In Nashville. I was dating a color commentator, Charles. He was closeted. We thought we were being careful, but his father almost caught us one night. After that, Charles got paranoid, pulled away. The hiding poisoned everything between us. By the time we were discovered—because we were, eventually—there was no coming back from it. I had to leave Nashville.”
“I’m sorry,” Marco said quietly.
Wesley shook his head. “It taught me something important, though. You can’t build a real relationship on secrecy. The hiding compounds. It gets harder, not easier. Every day you have to act like you’re just friends, it damages what you have.”
His words hit too close to home. The past week had been agony.
“So, we shouldn’t wait,” I said. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying you need to decide what you can live with,” Wesley said. “Can you keep hiding for another year? Two years? Five? If you can, and if that’s what feels right for you, then do that. But if the hiding is already hurting you—and I think it is, or you wouldn’t be here—then waiting just makes it worse.”
