“In this case, I see why it matters,” Landon replies and shrugs. “Beats the shit out of ‘has a boyfriend for the foreseeable future, so, biologically, surrogate was the only way that works.’”
I almost laugh at that, but my eyes fly to Coach. He flashes a quick smile at Landon’s joke. “About that…”
I brace myself for whatever happens next. Coach inhales slowly. “So, your sexuality is none of my business. It’s not the owners’ business. It’s not the fans’ or the media’s business. But if you two are out, which I have no problem with, it will eventually become public knowledge.”
We both nod. Coach nods too. “When that day comes, well, some people are going to be raging assholes and say some of the most heinous shit you can imagine. I just want to let you know that I, as your coach, will always have your back and will never tolerate that from the media, staff, or players. So if it happens, don’t be afraid to let me know. I will handle it.”
“The owners?” I croak out. “Will this be a problem for them? For our contract negotiations.”
“I can say not one bit. I’m certain of it,” Coach Larue says. “I have a trans daughter. Before I took this job, I told them I intend to support a Pride Night for the Riptide, and I want our team charities to support LGBTQ causes. And they agreed. I kind of knew they would be cool because of who they picked as a captain. So I can say with certainty the only thing that will impact your contracts is your stats on the ice.”
“Good. Now I just have to play better,” Landon replies. “On top of everything else.”
“I want to keep you both. I have told management that. I don’t have all the pull here, but your performances, although rocky in places, are still strong enough, overall, for me to see your value. Both of you. I’m only a piece of the contract negotiation puzzle, though, boys.”
I nod, and so does Landon. Coach drops his hands onto his desk. “Landon, you up to practicing?”
“Yeah. One hundred percent.”
“Let’s go.”
Later that day, I find myself coasting down the hill that leads into Silver Bay. The sun is setting, and the lake is reflecting all the cotton candy colors of the sunset. The snow is twinkling white and pristine in between the houses peppering the hill beyond the water. Everything is tranquil and serene, but I’m gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache because if I don’t, my arms shake.
I tell myself not to be nervous. I know they’ll be okay with it. I know I’m not a different person, and telling them will be a relief. But yet my heart pounds and my limbs are like Jell-O anyway as I pull into the driveway of my childhood home. Our house isn’t on the lakefront like Jordan and Jessie’s or Luc and Rose’s or Callie and Devin’s. We’re tucked in halfway up the hill in a modest four-bedroom log cabin-style house.
I make my way up the perfectly plowed driveway toward the front door, my dad is already holding open. He pulls me into a hug in the front hall. “I should’ve asked if you’re still contagious before I did this.”
Oh right. He thinks I had the flu. I smile and hug him back. “All clear.” As he lets me go, I hold his gaze. “On all fronts. I’m not the dad.”
His shoulders droop. “Okay then. Is that the news you wanted?”
“I didn’t want anything except the truth,” I reply and press my palms into the sides of my pants because they’re sweating. “And on that note, I have some truth to tell you and Mom. It’s gonna confuse the hell out of you, Dad, but…”
“Grady! Are you guys coming in or what?” Mom pops into the hall from the kitchen at the back.
I make my way toward her, and Dad follows. She’s standing in the kitchen and is fussing over a charcuterie board. It’s filled with delectable-looking meats and cheese wedges and plump grapes and interesting-looking crackers. She’s smearing a creamy cheese on a cracker, and she holds it up to me. “Goat cheese on a fig and rosemary cracker. Try it. So good!”
I let her pop it in my mouth and chew. “Mmm…”
“Have more,” she urges. “I’m making it for the book club I’m going to later, but I have extra.”
I grab a chunk of what I think is old cheddar and pop it into my mouth a I move to sit on a stool next to the one Dad is now occupying. “What’s happening with Theo? The group chat has been awfully silent, and I didn’t want to nag Auntie Rose and Uncle Luc.”
Mom looks worried. “Luc is living with him in Vegas. Rose said it’s not great. He keeps finding alcohol hidden everywhere. She’s a mess. Luc swears he’ll get him help. They’ve hired a private counselor, and Luc has told his Coach. The coach can’t force him into a recovery program, and Theo won’t go. He says he can just stop.”
“Maybe he can?” I say, but I don’t sound hopeful because I’m not.
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Mom says. “Anyway, Rose said if we can help, she’ll ask, but right now there is nothing anyone but Theo can do.”
Dad grabs a grape off the plate. “We’re proud of you for telling Rose and Luc.”
“I did what had to be done. I love Theo. I want the best for him.”
“Speaking of wanting to help,” Mom replies, her eyes soft, almost sad. “When you missed a game with the flu, I purposely didn’t drive down there to check on you, even though it’s all I wanted to do, because your father informed me you want space.”
I glance at Dad and then at her. They don’t look too hurt. I sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been going through some personal stuff and pushing you away. I’m sorry.”
Mom puts the cheese knife down and pats my hand. “Don’t be sorry. We just want you to be happy and safe, and if you think the way to sort through stuff is to do it alone, then try that. But know we’re here if you can’t.”
