Commenting on the post wasn’t suspicious—it was expected. Any former teammate who respected the man would do it. Not commenting would actually draw more attention than commenting would.
It was the logical thing to do.
I typed quickly, before the fear could catch up:“Proud of Griffin Lapierre. He’s always been a leader—this is no different.”
My thumb found the share button. Hovered.
It was just a comment. Just words. Nothing that revealed anything about me or what Griffin’s post had stirred in my chest.
I pressed share before I could change my mind.
The comment posted. My phone buzzed once with a notification—Griffin had liked it. Nothing else. No questions, no suspicious comments, no one reading between the lines.
“Let me see that.” Étienne reached for my phone.
I handed it over and watched as he clicked through to the full article, his face intent as he read. The video game menu music played on a loop in the background, oddly cheerful.
“Bro,” he said after a minute. “He did a whole press conference and everything. That’s wild. I mean, I’m sure there’re gay guys in the league, but nobody’s ever actually said it, you know? Not while they’re still playing.”
“Yeah,” I managed.
“The comments are pretty supportive.” He continued scrolling. “That’s good. Though there are always going to be assholes, I guess. I like your comment—Lapierre’s a good guy. Oh, here, his boyfriend posted about it too. Wesley Hutton.”
My chest constricted. Boyfriend. Lapierre had a boyfriend, and now everyone knew it, and the world hadn’t ended.
“Can I see?”
Étienne navigated to Hutton’s Instagram and handed the phone back to me. Hutton wrote:
“Watching Griffin Lapierre’s press conference today, I was overwhelmed with pride and love.
Griffin and I are in a relationship. This is real. This is mutual. This is love.
We both knew the risks. We both made choices. I won’t let him shoulder this alone.
We’re two people who fell in love despite complicated circumstances.
We violated organizational policy. There are consequences. We accept them.
But love—true, honest love—shouldn’t have to be hidden. Griffin’s courage today proved that.
I’m proud of him. I’m honored to be part of his journey. And I hope our story shows that authenticity and professional excellence aren’t mutually exclusive.
To every LGBTQ+ person in sports or any profession: you deserve to be yourself. Fully, openly, proudly. Thank you, Griffin, for showing us it’s possible.”
That could never be me.
I could never stand at a press conference and say those words. Could never introduce someone as my boyfriend, never bring a date to team events or charity galas or any of the hundred other public functions where I smiled and played the part of the good Italian American son who just hadn’t found the right girl yet.
My family would never forgive me.
“Earth to Marco.” Étienne waved a hand in front of myface. “You’re doing that thing where you disappear inside your head. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I forced myself to look away from the press conference, from Hutton’s response. “Just processing. It’s big news.”
“Right?” Étienne settled back into the couch, unpausing his game. “Wonder what the guys are saying in the group chat. Probably freaking out.”
I opened the Glaciers team group chat. Sure enough, it was blowing up. Most of the comments were positive:
