“Back out there, boys,” Coach says as soon as we get to the bench.“And Richard, thanks for the power play, but you have fists.Feel free to use them.”
I nod and skate out to help the power play.I refocus, ignoring Gagne and Finch, and whatever the hell all that was, and focus on the game.It takes a minute and a half of the two-minute penalty for anything to open up.Callan and I manage to keep the puck in the zone the whole time, and then, one of the Comets gets frustrated with Conner being parked in front of their goalie.When Landon takes a shot, the Comets’ player pushes Conner to stop the tip Conner is trying to make happen.The push is too hard.Conner falls, and the player goes down with him, leaving the zone wide open.The puck bounces off the goalie and right to me.I haul off with the perfect snapshot, which careens past the goalie’s shoulder and into the net.
The horn sounds, and I punch the air.Callan skates over and hugs me.“Fucking beauty, T!”
“Thanks.”I get a lot of the same reaction as I skate down the bench for my fist bumps, and Coach gives me an approving nod.
I feel good about tying it up and even better when, on my next shift, I feed a perfect pass to Landon, and he scores the go-ahead goal with two minutes left, and we hold the lead and win the game.
Kendra grabs me in the tunnel and asks me to do an interview.I’ve been purposely left off the media rotation until now.I was fine with it.Coach wanted me to establish myself on the team first, hoping it would quell the inevitable personal questions.“Only if you’re ready.I can grab Cal instead.He was on the ice for all the goals this game, too.”
“I gotta rip the Band-Aid off at some point,” I say because I feel ready.
And then I get to the interview, which is in the hall between the locker room and the tunnel.I’m still in gear as the boys funnel by, and I lean on my stick as the guy from NBC asks me, “You were one punch from the coveted Gordie Howe Hat Trick tonight.Why did you refuse to fight Finch?”
Shit.He’s right.A goal, an assist, and a fight make up a Gordie Howe Hat Trick, but I refused to fight Finch.I blink and shrug.“I don’t know.I guess I like to have a reason to fight, and I have no idea what was up with Finch.”
“Do you and him have bad blood from when you played with Vegas?”
“Not that I know of,” I reply.“And besides, if I had fought him, I’d have been in the box too, and then, no goal.”
“You seem to have really fit in with the Riptide.Was it difficult to find your role here?”
“Not at all.The team was really welcoming, and I knew if I just worked hard, it would fall into place,” I say, which is utter bullshit.The team has mostly accepted me, except for maybe Gagne, but I wasn’t sure that would be the case.I’m working my ass off, though, that part is true.
“You seem fully recovered from your injuries that occurred last season.Is that true?”
“Thankfully, yes,” I say as my shoulder throbs in pain.
“And were you surprised Casco and Grady Garrison have been so welcoming?Did any of you carry resentment about those moments, your video, into the locker room?”
So much for time and performance will quell the questions.I clench my jaw, swallow, and scramble to find appropriate words that don’t show how pissed off I am about this never fucking dying.“Grady and Landon are two of the best men I’ve ever known, on and off the ice.I’m lucky to play with them and luckier to have been granted their forgiveness.I hope we can continue to do great things together for this team.Thanks.”
I give him a curt nod and tight smile to show that this interview is over.He blinks but nods and turns to the camera to send it back to the studio.He yells cut as I’m walking toward the dressing room, and then he calls out after me, “Sorry, Theo.Had to go there.”
“Yep.Fine,” I call back, refusing to let him see my scowl.
Callan sees it, though, as I plop down next to him at my cubby.He’s almost totally out of his equipment and shoving his feet into slides to head to the bikes for cool-down.“Didn’t go great?”
I shake my head.“You know I could have waited to do interviews again until the last game of the season, but all they would still want to do is talk about that fucking Instagram video.”
“If you answered it once, you don’t have to answer it again,” Grady tells me as he unfastens his pads.He shoots me a consoling smile, and his sweaty red hair sticks to his forehead.“If they bring it up to me, or bring up anything about my sexuality or relationship with Landon, my standard response is now ‘I’ve addressed that before and don’t need to do it again.’”
“Noted.Thanks,” I say with a nod.
“Fucking hell of a game out there tonight, T,” Conner interrupts as he walks in from his own interview.He yanks off his helmet and grabs the rubber lobster out of his cubby.It’s a tradition that whoever had the best game on the team gets the lobster afterward.“Everyone congratulate the dude who could have had a Gordie Howe but got us a goal instead.”
Everyone claps or hoots for me except Xavier Gagne, who keeps his scowl on his skates as he aggressively tugs the laces loose and yanks his feet out one after the other.Conner tosses the lobster at me, and I catch it.“Thanks, everyone!Let’s do it again on the road trip.”
We head out for a quick four-day road trip tomorrow, hitting Boston and my first NHL team in Quebec before flying back home the day before Thanksgiving for a quick couple days off.For the first time since the season began, I let myself enjoy the moment and look forward to the trip with more optimism than anxiety.It feels good, if unknown.I peel out of my gear and toss the jersey in the laundry bin.I purposely take a bike in the cool-down room next to Xavier.
“Super jeu,” I say, since Xavier is from Montreal and his native tongue is French.
He frowns.“Don’t do that.”
“Parles français ?Je suis à moitié français, mec.”
“Stop,” he barks and finally turns to look at me, and I immediately wish he hadn’t.His legs slow on the bike.“Look, Landon and Grady might be fine with what you did, but that still doesn’t make it okay.”
