The gym was everything Tobias wanted, apart from having his own family one day, but his anxiety made dating impossible for him.
He wouldn’t have been the first player to come out of the closet, or even the second. Carter Forsberg, a forward for Seattle, came out the year before Tobias retired, and Boston defenseman Nate Madson followed shortly after. Watching the hate and vitriol thrown at them from so many angles made Tobias want to come out even more. As a big name in the sport, he’d figured it would only help if he added himself to the list of outplayers. The more people came forward, the closer they’d get to some kind of normalcy and the more proof fans would have that you didn’t need to be straight to dominate in a sport.
Of course, there were plenty of fans who supported them and tried to drown out the hate, but they could only do so much. Because of the potential fallout from fans, he’d planned to speak to his agent and the team that summer, but it never happened.
Instead of approaching the team about coming out, he retired. They’d been understanding of his situation and only wanted the best for him. To this day, rumors swirled about why he retired. People had speculated about his sexuality practically since he was drafted. He was so quiet and was never seen dating anyone, so people wondered why. Some even suggested the possibility the Inferno cut his contract for being gay. Both his agent and the team released a statement saying they were separating on good terms and Tobias was retiring to spend more time with his family, with no ill will toward the organization. But people still believed what they wanted.
Since his retirement, he’d done everything he could to move on, but part of him missed being on the ice.
Tobias gave Madison another squeeze as she continued talking about everything she wanted to do that day. When she mentioned working on some bracelets, he jumped at the chance for his own version of therapy.
“Maddie, do you wanna work on your bracelets while I work on a scarf for Gigi?”
“Okay, Oby,” she said as she planted a kiss on his cheek.
He walked to the kitchen with Madison still in his arms. His mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. He dropped Madison in her favorite chair and walked around the table to place a kiss on his mom’s head.
At sixty, Grace maintained her good looks and her statuesque figure, her hair now completely silver, and her eyes as keen as ever. She looked at him and must have seen the tumultuousness of his thoughts behind his gaze because hers narrowed in concern.
“You okay today?”
He nodded and muttered, “Gotta knit,” and his mom smiled sympathetically in understanding.
When he was a teenager, his gram taught him how to work the needles, and it was exactly what he needed to keep from spiraling.
He’d tried fidget toys to keep his hands busy and calm himself, but he got annoyed by the pointlessness of it. He wasn’t actuallydoinganything.
Knitting slowed his racing thoughts because his brain had something else to focus on, while also keeping his hands busy. And when he was done he’d end up with a hat or scarf. Now that his meditative activity resultedin an article of clothing, he didn’t regret using the time to think.
Tobias admitted the logic wasn’t perfect, but it worked for him, and that was what mattered. The activity had helped him keep his focus on and off the ice, and it likely helped him get to the NHL in the first place.
It was like a habit he couldn’t break, and he didn’t want to. Over the years, he’d knitted something for everyone and everything. By the time he retired, every single person who worked in the Philly Inferno organization, from the owner, to the equipment guy, to the custodians, owned something knitted by him, usually hats, blankets or scarves. He never managed to make friendly conversation with them, but they all appreciated the gesture. After players noticed the sleeves he made to keep his goalie sticks protected, plus similar coverings for his masks and skates, some teammates requested those, too. He may not have managed to have a simple conversation with most of them, but he could at least show them he cared.
Now, he had far less people in his life to knit for, so he made monthly donations to clothing drives and shelters in the area.
As he worked the needles, the clicking settling the noise in his head, he tried to organize his thoughts.
Could he get on the ice again? Did he even want to?
He should probably figure thatout first. If he didn’t want to, what was the point of stressing about it?
Since he left the Inferno, he hadn’t touched the ice. Even the synthetic tiles forming a mini rink in his basement had sat unused for the last three years.
It was such a fucking waste.
Despite his therapist drilling into his head that his mental health was more important, he couldn’t help but have regrets over having issues in the first place.
The question was, could he go back?
Could he face the attention he’d get from being on the ice again?
He was determined to figure that out.
Later that night, after his mom and Madison were snug in their beds, he wandered down the stairs to his basement, stopping in front of the closed door to the room he’d avoided for three years.
When Natalie got pregnant, he bought this place in Cherrywood to be closer to his mom and sister. His place in Philly was only about thirty minutes away, but that had been too far. He was so excited to be an uncle, and he didn’t want to miss any of it. Plus, this place had way more room than his townhouse in the city.
One of the reasons he picked it was for the huge basement. It had a large storage room he’d turned into the home training center of his dreams.
