"So yes. I’m gay. I’m in love with my teammate. And I’m asking for privacy and respect as we navigate this together. Thank you."
The room exploded again—questions shouting over each other, cameras flashing, the PR director trying to establish order. But Luca ignored all of it. He turned to me and pulled me close, pressing our foreheads together.
"I meant every word," Luca whispered.
I kissed him.
Right there. In front of ESPN and TSN and every sports outlet in North America. I kissed Luca like we were alone, like cameras didn't exist, like the only thing that mattered was making sure Luca knew he wasn't alone.
When we finally broke apart, the room had gone quiet again.
"Questions?" Luca said calmly, as if he hadn't just destroyed and rebuilt his entire world in ten minutes.
The questions lasted forty-five minutes.
Some were respectful. Some were invasive. A few made me want to climb over the podium and throw hands with my good arm.
"How long have you been together?"
"Since about a month into the season," Luca answered. "Though I fought it for longer than that."
"Does the team know?"
"As of three days ago, yes. They’ve been incredibly supportive."
"Are you worried about backlash from fans?"
Luca’s jaw tightened. "I’m sure there will be some. But I can't control other people’s reactions. I can only control my own choices. And I choose honesty."
"Theo." A reporter in the third row zeroed in on me. "How do you feel about becoming the face of LGBTQ+ representation in professional hockey?"
I blinked. I hadn't expected to be asked anything directly.
"I didn't come out to be a symbol," I said carefully. My voice sounded strange through the microphone—too loud, too exposed. "I came out because hiding felt like dying. If that helps someone else feel less alone, that’s incredible. But mostly I just want to play hockey and love who I love without it being a whole thing."
"Is it difficult dating your captain? The power dynamic—"
"There is no power dynamic," Luca cut in, his voice sharp. "Theo is my equal in every way that matters. On the ice, I’m his captain. Off the ice, we’re partners. Anyone who suggests otherwise doesn't understand what a relationship is."
My chest felt too full. Like my ribs couldn't contain everything I was feeling.
A woman in the back raised her hand. "Luca, your father is famously traditional. Have you spoken to him about this?"
Luca’s expression went carefully blank. "No comment on family matters."
But I felt him flinch. I felt the way his hand spasmed before going rigid.
"One more question," the PR director announced.
"For both of you," a young reporter called out. "What do you want people to know?"
Luca and I looked at each other.
"That it’s worth it," I said. "Being yourself. Even when it’s terrifying. Even when you lose people. Because the alternative is living half a life, and that’s not living at all."
"And that love isn't a distraction," Luca added. "It’s not a weakness. It doesn't make you less of an athlete or less of a man. If anything, it makes you more. Because you’re finally whole."
The flashes started again. I let them. I leaned into Luca’s side—careful of my shoulder—and let the cameras capture us together.
