“Yeah. I think you’ll like them when they’re notperforming elaborate Viking rituals or planning sneak attacks. Erik’s pretty funny when he’s not being all Mr. Mysterious, and Tyler’s, well, Tyler’s always ridiculous, but in an entertaining way, and he’s the best man I’ve ever known.”
Wow. The best man he’s ever known. That was a bold statement, even for Skyler, especially after he gushed about his brother being a living saint, if a mischievous one.
“That sounds good,” I said, and meant it.
“Plus, they keep asking when they’re going to see you again. Apparently you made quite an impression with your tolerance for Erik’s completely fabricated cultural traditions.”
“I should order a stuffed falcon from Amazon and bring it as an offering.”
Skyler laughed so suddenly the car swerved. “Oh, shit. Ty would die right there. I’m not sure what Erik would do, but I definitely want to record it.”
We settled into an easier conversation about hockey and his teammates and the upcoming road trip, the kind of domestic planning that felt both natural and surreal. Then the conversation took a more serious turn when I found myself asking a question that had been tickling the back of my mind for some time.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Jacks, you don’t need a preamble. You can ask me anything.”
I bit the bottom of my lip, hoping he maintained that policy after hearing what I was about to ask. “How are you so okay with . . . all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . it’s like you flipped a switch. One day you were straight; the next day you’re dating a guy, and you’re fine with it all. That’s not . . . that’s not how it usually works.”
“How does it usually work?”
I was quiet for a moment, memories of my own coming out flooding back, of the months of confusion, the late-night googling, the desperate hope that what I was feeling was a phase.
“It involves a lot of soul-searching,” I said. “Plus a healthy dose of self-doubt, a bit of loathing for betraying everything you grew up believing, and some wondering if you’re broken or different or if this is who you really are. I fought it all, accepted it, then fought it over again.” I looked over at him. “It took me two years to even say the words out loud to myself, much less to anyone else. And you didn’t have any of that?”
Skyler was quiet for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer. The only sounds were the car’s motor and the occasional whoosh of us passing anothervehicle.
“No,” he said. “I guess I skipped that part.”
“But how? How is that possible?” I didn’t mean to sound disbelieving, but shit, how was I supposed to believe he’d gone from straight stud of the hockey world to merrily gay and deeply committed? It didn’t make sense, not given the world of shit I suffered through before surrendering to who I was always meant to be.
“I guess . . . because I grew up differently than you did, maybe?” His voice was gentle, like he understood why this was hard for me to hear. “My uncle Brad is gay. He’s been with his husband for fifteen years. Dean is gay, too. He came out when he was sixteen, and my parents actually threw him a party.”
“Your brother is gay? I mean, I know you said that before, but still . . .”
“Yeah. He’s three years younger than me, played baseball at Florida State, and works for the Rays now in their front office. He’s been with his partner for about three years, I think. Feels like forever. You’ll get that when you see them together.” Skyler’s voice got warmer talking about his brother. “My parents never made being gay seem like it was something to struggle with or be ashamed of. They talked about relationships—men with women, women with women, and men with men—likeit was all part of life, like they were interchangeable and each deserved respect based on how the couple treated each other, not what sex they were made up of.”
“But still,” I said. “You’re a pro athlete. You’re a celebrity. Societal pressure and media representation, all that stuff—”
“Oh, sure, I know that exists, and I know I’m going to face some of it when we go public. The negative fan reaction, the hateful comments on social media, probably some ugly stuff from people who think hockey players are supposed to be a certain way. I’ll face it all.” He paused. “That part terrifies me, but accepting myself? That was never even a question.”
I swallowed hard. This was all so . . . unbelievable . . . and utterly incomprehensible.
“If this is who I am, then this is who I am,” Skyler continued. “If you’re who I love, then it all makes sense. The rest is just logistics.”
I wanted to believe it was that simple. God, I wanted to believe him, but my own experience had been so different that trusting in Skyler’s certainty felt almost impossible.
“You’re allowed to be scared, Jacks,” Skyler said quietly. “I’m scared, too, just about different things.”
“What are you scared of?”
“Losing you,” he said without hesitation. “Everything else I can handle, but losing you . . . that’s the thing that keeps me up at night.”
I felt my shoulders relax a bit.
