Griffin stood and moved to the window. The afternoon light caught his profile, and I could see the weight he carried, even now. “When I decided to come out, I was terrified. I thought I’d lose everything. My career, my team, my family’s respect. Some of that happened. I lost endorsements. I lost the support of some fans and teammates.”
My stomach twisted.
“But.” Griffin turned back to face us. “I also gained everything that mattered. I got to be with Wesley publicly. I got to stop pretending. I got to wake up every morning and just… be myself. And the people who mattered—most of my teammates, the fans who actually cared about me as a person, my real friends—they stayed. My mother came around eventually. The friends and fans who didn’t…” He paused. “I had to make peace with losing them.”
“My father won’t accept it,” I said quietly. “He’s made his views on homosexuality very clear. When you came out, Griffin, he said things I won’t repeat. If I tell him about Marco, he’ll… I’ll lose him completely.”
“I’m sorry,” Griffin said, with meaning. “That’s one of the hardest parts. Knowing that being honest costs you people you love.”
“My mother will struggle too,” Marco added. “She’s Catholic. Traditional. She’ll see it as a sin, as me rejecting everything she taught me.”
“They might surprise you,” Wesley offered gently. “Not all of them, maybe. But some people, given time?—”
“And some won’t,” Griffin cut in, his tone firm but notunkind. “You need to go into this knowing that. Some family members will reject you. Some teammates will make it hard. Some fans will hate you. You can’t control that. All you can control is whether you’re going to live authentically or keep hiding.”
Silence settled over the room. Through the windows, I could see Beaverton spread out below, people going about their lives, unaware that in this apartment, two hockey players were trying to figure out if they were brave enough to tell the truth.
“How did you decide?” I asked finally. “That you were ready?”
Griffin looked at Wesley, and something passed between them—a whole conversation in a glance.
“We got caught,” Griffin said simply. “Management walked in on us kissing in Wesley’s office. We were violating the team’s no-fraternization policy—player and staff member. They could have fired Wesley on the spot, broken my contract, made it a whole thing.
“I realized in that moment,” Griffin continued, “that I had a choice. I could end it with Wesley, go back to hiding, keep pretending for however many more years. Stay safe. Stay closeted. Or I could choose him. Choose us. Choose to live authentically, even if it meant risking everything else.”
He strode to Wesley and took his hand. The gesture was so natural, so comfortable, it made my chest ache.
“I chose him,” Griffin said. “I chose the possibility of a real life over the certainty of hiding. And yeah, I lost some things. But I gained what mattered.” He caught Wesley’s gaze.
“We both did,” Wesley said softly.
“The thing is,” Griffin looked back at us, his blue eyes intense, “I was never going to be ready. There’s no perfect time to blow up your life. But I realized—and this isimportant—I couldn’t be the player I wanted to be while carrying that secret. Every time I stepped onto the ice, I was exhausted before I even took a stride. The hiding was killing my game on top of what Wesley and I had.”
“And eventually, the lies eat away at everything else,” Wesley said.
Griffin squeezed Wesley’s hand. “So, we didn’t choose our timing. But it worked out for us.”
Marco’s knee had stopped bouncing. He was listening intently, processing everything the way he did—methodically, carefully, weighing every variable.
“If we did this,” he said slowly. “How would we do it? What’s the process?”
Wesley sat up straighter, his PR instincts clearly activated. “First, you tell your families. That’s non-negotiable. They need to hear it from you before anyone else does. Even if it goes badly—especially if it goes badly—they deserve that courtesy.”
“Then you tell someone on the team you trust,” Griffin added. “Test the waters. Get a sense of how it’ll be received.”
“Kinnunen,” I said immediately. Marco nodded his agreement.
“Good. A teammate you play with regularly makes sense, and he’s a good guy.” Griffin continued. “After that, you tell your coach and management. They need time to prepare—PR strategy, security protocols, media training for you guys. This is going to be a circus, especially at first. Management needs to be ready.”
“There’s a problem with that,” I said.
Griffin looked at me. “What kind of problem?”
I took a breath. “Management is talking about trading me. My performance has been down all season, and they’re fielding offers from Boston and Toronto.” My hands tightened into fists. “We’re afraid that coming out mightpush Greer over the edge. Give him an excuse to call it a distraction and trade me anyway.”
The room went silent.
Griffin exchanged a look with Wesley, then leaned forward. “Okay. That’s a real concern. I won’t lie to you.”
