“Your mom would approve?”
“Maybe. If she didn’t know I was teaching my boyfriend to cook instead of finding a nice Italian girl to marry.”
The word “boyfriend” still felt foreign, but right. Étienne smiled at it.
“Marco.” He set down his fork. “What if we didn’t have to hide?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—what if we could just be together? Openly like Griffin and his boyfriend. Go to team events as a couple. Not worry about who sees us. Actually live like this instead of just pretending in private.”
The longing in his voice matched the longing in my chest.
“We could go to charity events,” he continued. “Together. As dates. Could hold hands in public. Could kiss without checking over our shoulders. Could just… be a couple.”
I let myself imagine it. Walking into charity events with Étienne beside me. Introducing him as my boyfriend. Dancing with him where everyone could see. Going home together without hiding.
It was like in my romance novels, just a beautiful fiction.
“We could live together. Not hide in separate homes or pretend we’re just roommates. Actually live together,” he said. “We could talk about our relationship like teammates talk about their wives and girlfriends. And post photos together in each other’s social media. We could be real outside of this house.” His voice was wistful.
We sat in silence for a moment; the fantasy hung between us.
Then reality crashed back in.
“My father would disown me.” Étienne’s voice was flat. “If he knew the truth, he’d never speak to me again.”
“My family would tell me I’m going to hell. My mother would cry. The priest would want to pray over me. My sisters—except Gia—would probably stop talking to me.”
“The team might not care. Some guys probably wouldn’t. But some would. And we don’t know which ones.”
“Our careers could be affected. You know what the hockey world is like, and we’ve seen the kind of hateful comments Griffin still gets. It could be the tipping point and management might trade you.”
“What?” He stared at me. “They can’t do that.”
“They can. You don’t have a no-trade clause.” I kept my voice factual. Easier that way than letting him hear the fear underneath. “If our relationship affects team chemistry, if it becomes a distraction, if it causes any issues with sales or sponsors… they’ll deal with it.”
“By trading me for coming out?” His face had drained of color.
“By doing whatever they think is best for the team and the franchise. And if that means splitting us up…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Étienne looked like I’d hit him. “So, we could come out, be together, and then they could just… separate us anyway?”
“Yes. We’d only see each other when our teams played in the same city, and during the off-season.”
“That’s—” He stopped, searching for words. “That’s bullshit.”
“No. That’s hockey.” I met his eyes. “If it comes down to the franchise or keeping us together, management will choose the team. Every time. And they wouldn’t have to say a word about the relationship. They’d just point to your stats, say they need to shake things up. You’re already having an off season, that’s excuse enough to avoid any discrimination concerns.”
Étienne was quiet for a long moment, processing. “Griffin,” he said finally.
“What?”
“Do you think… do you think management knew he was gay? Is that why they traded him?”
“There’s no way of knowing,” I said carefully. “The trade could have been exactly what they said—roster development. Or…”
“Or they knew and wanted him gone before it became public.”
