"So thank you. For accepting me. For fighting beside me. For teaching me that being vulnerable doesn't make you weak—it makes you stronger."
The room erupted in cheers. Kieran started the applause, and within seconds everyone was on their feet, clapping and stomping and shouting my name.
"Now lift the fucking Cup!" Hayes bellowed.
I laughed—a real laugh, unguarded and bright—and reached for the trophy.
It was heavier than I expected. Solid. Real. I hoisted it overhead, and the room exploded again.
The Cup made its rounds. Every player got their moment—lifting it, kissing it, taking photos. When it reached Theo, he could barely manage the weight with his injured shoulder, but he got it up anyway, beaming like the sun.
Later—after the media interviews, after the official photos, after the champagne had stopped flowing—my phone buzzed.
Mark. My agent.
I almost ignored it. But something made me check.
Mark:Call me when you have a minute. Good news.
I frowned and stepped into the hallway for relative quiet. I dialed.
"Congratulations, Captain," Mark said immediately. "Hell of a game."
"Thanks. What’s the good news?"
"Three major endorsement deals came through today. Nike wants you for their Pride campaign. Gatorade wants a full commercial spot. And EA Sports wants you and Callahan on the cover of next year’s NHL game."
My brain stuttered. "What?"
"They specifically cited your coming-out story. Said you represent the future of hockey—authentic, diverse, unafraid. The offers are substantial, Luca. We’re talking seven figures each."
"I..." I couldn't form words. "They want me because I came out?"
"Because you came out, led your team to a championship, and proved that authenticity doesn't weaken you—it makes you iconic." Mark’s voice was warm. Proud. "You changed the narrative. And now everyone wants to be part of that story."
I leaned against the wall, overwhelmed. A month ago, I’d been terrified that coming out would destroy my career. Cost me everything.
Instead, it had given me more than I’d ever imagined possible.
"Send me the details," I managed. "And Mark? Thank you. For believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself."
"Always, kid. Now go celebrate with your team. And your boyfriend."
I hung up. I stood there for a moment, processing.
Then I went back into the locker room.
Theo looked up immediately. He read something in my expression. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I pulled him close, kissed his temple. "Better than okay. I’ll tell you later."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Hours later, when most of the team had finally dispersed to continue celebrating elsewhere, I sat on the locker room floor with the Stanley Cup between my knees.
Theo dropped down beside me, shoulder pressed to mine. His sling was back on—Coach’s orders—but he looked content. Peaceful.
