Blood trickled down my temple, warm and sticky. I played through it. I threw hits. I blocked shots. I did everything a captain should do.
When the final horn sounded—3-2 win, series lead regained—I felt nothing.
In the locker room, team doctors checked my stitches. Kieran dropped beside me, still in pads.
"Four stitches," the doctor said. "Keep it clean, no complications."
He left. Kieran stayed.
"You played great," he said.
"We won."
"That’s not what I said." He studied me. "When’s the last time you looked in a mirror?"
"What kind of question..."
"Look at yourself, Luca. Really look."
I stood up. I walked to the mirror mounted by the sinks. I saw what Kieran saw.
Hollow eyes. Sharp cheekbones. The stitches above my eyebrow were neat. The expression underneath was dead.
I looked like my father—successful, controlled, empty.
"This is what winning looks like?" Kieran asked quietly. "Because from here, it looks like you’re dying by inches."
I touched the stitches and winced. "I made my choice."
"Then unmake it."
"It’s not that simple."
"Why not?" He stood, still in full gear, imposing and honest. "The contract is signed. The team is winning. You have everything you said you needed. So what’s stopping you from being happy?"
"I can't..." My voice broke. I gripped the sink edge. "I can't be what he needs. Can't give him what he deserves."
"What does he deserve?"
"Someone who isn't afraid. Someone who can stand with him publicly. Someone who—"
"Someone who loves him?" Kieran’s reflection met mine in the mirror. "Because you do. It’s written all over your face every time you look at him. And you’re miserable without him. So either the closet is more important than your happiness, or..."
"Or what?"
"Or you’re just scared." He stripped off his jersey and shoulder pads. "And I get it. Coming out is terrifying. But you know what’s more terrifying? Living a lie so long you forget what truth feels like."
He walked away, leaving me alone with my reflection.
I stared at the stranger in the mirror. Captain. Franchise player. Five-year contract.
Miserable.
The locker room door opened.
Theo.
He was still in his suit, probably looking for Coach. He froze when he saw me.
