“So, you could tell management and the team on Sunday,” Wesley suggested.
“That’s the day the roster freeze is lifted,” Griffin said, his expression turning serious. “Which makes it both risky and necessary.”
My stomach dropped. “Risky how?”
“The freeze lifts at midnight Saturday into Sunday. By the time you meet with Greer Sunday morning, he can already make trades.” Griffin leaned forward. “If he’s been looking for a reason to move you, you’re handing it to him on the first day he’s able to act.”
“Merde.” I looked at Marco. His face had blanched.
“But here’s why it’s also necessary,” Griffin continued. “You can’t blindside Greer. You just can’t. Coming out publicly without telling him first—that burns bridges with management. Makes you look impulsive, immature. Like youdon’t respect the organization.” He paused. “And if he finds out from social media instead of you? He’ll be pissed. That could push him toward trading you even if he was on the fence.”
“So, I’m fucked either way,” I said. “Tell him and he might trade me immediately. Don’t tell him and he’ll be angry enough to trade me anyway.”
“Pretty much,” Griffin said, not unkindly. “But at least if you tell him first, you’ve handled it professionally. You’ve given him the courtesy of hearing it from you. That would matter to Greer.”
“So, we definitely tell him on Sunday,” I said.
Wesley nodded. “Then go public on Tuesday. That gives your team Monday’s game to adjust before the media circus hits.”
My head was spinning. Less than two weeks. We’d tell our families in two days, and a little more than a week later, the whole world would know.
“That’s fast,” I said.
“Yes,” Wesley said gently. “But if you drag it out, if you wait too long between steps, fear will talk you out of it. Use that momentum.”
Marco was quiet beside me. I could see the wheels turning in his head, working through every scenario, every risk.
“We’re scared,” I admitted.
“You should be,” Griffin said honestly. “This is terrifying. But Étienne, Marco… every day you wait is another day you have to hide. You came here today because you’re already at a breaking point. The question isn’t whether hiding is sustainable. It’s not. The question is whether you’re ready to do something about it.”
Marco’s hand found mine on my thigh. This time, he didn’t let go.
“Can you give us a minute?” I asked Griffin and Wesley. “To talk? Just the two of us?”
“Of course.” Wesley stood immediately. “We’ll be in the bedroom. Take your time.”
They disappeared through a doorway, leaving Marco and me alone in the living room with the town spread out below us.
“So,” I said quietly.
“So,” Marco echoed.
“What are you thinking?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on something out the window. “I’m thinking about my mother’s face when I tell her. About your father maybe cutting you off. About Boucher’s reaction when we tell the team. About the media, the scrutiny, everything that’s going to change. About the possibility of a trade. Of them separating us.”
My heart sank. “And?”
“And I’m thinking about how wrong it felt to have to leave your hotel room, to worry about being caught sleeping over.” He turned to look at me. “I’m thinking about sitting next to you on the plane, so close I could feel you breathing, but not being able to take your hand. About celebrating goals with you and having to make sure the hug doesn’t last too long. About watching you take a hit and not being able to show how scared I was.”
“Marco—”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, and his voice cracked. “The hiding. The pretending. I don’t want to call at Christmas and lie to my family. I don’t want to waste more time being scared when I could be with you.”
My chest broke open. “Are you saying?—”
“I’m saying let’s do it.” Marco’s hand tightened around mine. “Tell our families Monday. Tell Kinnunen Tuesday.Come back after Christmas, tell the team, go public. All of it.”
