“No, Benj. Just no.” I shook my head. “Sky said Coach’s fumbling was perfect, that it took all the seriousness out of the moment and turned it into guys being guys. By the time practice started, half the team was chirping him about admitting he had terrible taste in clothing despite his ‘gay heritage.’”
“Gay heritage?” Mark asked, sounding surprised.
“Apparently that’s hockey for ‘we love and support you,’” I said. “Sky said it felt normal, as though nothing had changed, except now they got to make fun of him for being whipped instead of suspecting it. He said they didn’t seem to care who was doing the whipping, so long as they could give him shit forit.”
“So that’s miracle number one,” Finn said.
“Miracle number one,” I confirmed with a crisp nod. “Now we need miracle number two.”
The afternoon crowd gave way to the pre-game dinner rush, then to the full game-night chaos. By seven o’clock, Barbacks was packed—standing room only, with every TV tuned to the Lightning game and the volume cranked high enough that conversation required shouting.
I was pulling beers and washing glasses as fast as I could when I caught a fragment of conversation from a group of guys at a high-top near the bar.
“—heard there’s going to be some kind of announcement after the game—”
“—big reveal or something—”
“—definitely staying for the press conference—”
“Hey,” I called over to Benji during a brief lull. “Why is everyone talking about staying for the post-game stuff? Did someone leak something?”
Benji’s face went bright red. “Define ‘someone.’”
“Benji?” A warning growl entered my voice.
“Okay, fine. So maybe I posted a little something on Instagram suggesting people should stick around for the press conference because it was going to be ‘epic’ and ‘history-making.’”
“Youwhat?”
“I was excited, and I wanted people to watch! This is a big, big deal, Jacks . . . and not just for you and Skyler. This can help people, guys who doubt or question or are afraid. You guys are going to be such an inspiration.” Benji was vibrating with nervous energy. “Besides, it’s going to be amazing for my follows and views. Your love will make me a star! I mean, more than I already am, obvi.”
“Obvi,” I drawled.
“I may have also used the hashtags #LightningNews and #StayTuned.”
“Oh my God,” I said, pulling another beer and trying not to panic. “How many people follow you?”
“Only a few thousand? Maybe? Okay, twenty thousand, give or take a hundred or two thousand.”
“A fewhundred thousandpeople think something big is happening tonight because of your Instagram post?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad! What if—”
“Jacks,” Mark interrupted, sliding a fresh case of beer across the bar. “Breathe. It’s good that people are watching. It’ll be easier to control the narrative from the start.”
“But what if they figure it out? What if someone puts two and two together before—”
“They will figure it out, idiot. You and Sky don’texactly hide, and you’re doing this so you never have to hide at all,” Finn said, appearing beside me with a tray of empties. “Sky’s ready for this. You’re ready for this. Stop borrowing trouble.”
“I think that’s Irish for ‘Stop being a little bioch,’” Benji added as I stepped away with an armful of dirty glasses.
The game was intense.
The Lightning were down by one going into the third period. The crowd was getting loud and agitated.
I caught glimpses of Skyler on the ice between drink orders. He looked calm and focused despite what had to be an immense amount of pressure.
