“It was.” I couldn't help but smile at the memory. “He hadn't played competitive hockey in over a decade, but he stepped up when we needed him and scored the game-winner. It was one of the best moments of my career.”
We talked for a few more minutes about visibility in sports, about the importance of living honestly, about how the league had responded. I kept my answers straightforward and refused to make it bigger than it needed to be. I was bisexual. I had a boyfriend. That was the truth, and people could do with it what they wanted.
When the interview wrapped and I stepped out of the studio into the cool morning air, my phone was already buzzing with notifications. Texts from teammates, messages from my publicist, social media mentions climbing into the thousands. I scrolled through enough to see that the response was mixed — plenty of support, plenty of hate, and a whole lot of people who had opinions about my personal life that they felt entitled to share.
I turned off my phone and got in the car where Soren was waiting.
“How'd it go?” he asked.
“It's done. I said it. The internet is currently losing its collective mind.” I leaned over and kissed him, slow and thorough, not giving a single fuck about the paparazzi who'd probably already spotted us. “And I feel lighter than I have in years.”
“Good.” He grinned at me. “Ready to go watch an eight-year-old destroy a talent show?”
“Absolutely.”
Jamie's schooltalent show was being held in the auditorium, and by the time we arrived the parking lot was already packed with minivans and parents who looked varying degrees of exhausted. We found Finn near the entrance, bouncing on his toes with nervous energy.
“He's freaking out,” Finn said without preamble. “In a good way, I think. But definitely freaking out.”
“He's going to be great,” Soren said.
“I know he is. But try telling my stomach that.”
We headed inside and found seats in the middle section, and I was moved by how many people had shown up. The entire Wolves team had turned out — Jace and Cole and Dmitri and Tate, even Saint and Benny who'd driven in from the suburbs. My parents settled in alongside Soren's siblings, Micah and Poppy already loud and animated beside them. June and Luca had claimed seats near the back, June with her arms crossed and her eyes already scanning the stage.
The lights went down and the emcee — a teacher who looked like she'd lost a bet — took the stage with a microphone and a clipboard.
“Welcome to Lincoln Elementary's annual talent show!” she said with the kind of forced enthusiasm that suggested she'd done this too many times. “We have an amazing lineup tonight, so let's give all our performers a big round of applause!”
The show started, and it was exactly as chaotic as I'd expected. A girl sang a Taylor Swift song slightly off-key but with absolute commitment. Twin boys did a magic trick that went wrong halfway through and had to improvise. A kid played violin beautifully until his sheet music fell off the stand and he had to finish from memory.
Soren was grinning through all of it, his hand warm in mine, and I realized this was one of those moments that looked nothing like what I'd imagined my life would be. Professional hockey captain, publicly out, sitting in an elementary school auditorium waiting to watch my boyfriend's deaf student perform. It was perfect in ways I couldn't have predicted.
Jamie was the eighth act. When his name was called, Finn went very still next to me.
Jamie walked onto the stage with his practice pad and sticks, looking tiny under the stage lights. He set up at the center, took a breath I could see from our seats, and then started playing.
The pattern was the one Soren had taught him, but Jamie had made it his own. The rhythm was clean and confident, his hands moving with precision that seemed impossible for an eight-year-old. He couldn't hear the sound he was making, but he didn't need to — he was feeling it through the vibrations, trusting his body to know what his ears couldn't tell him.
The audience started clapping along halfway through, picking up the beat, and Jamie's face lit up when he felt the vibration change in the floor and the stage beneath his feet. Thewhole auditorium clapping with him, with the rhythm he was making, with the music he couldn't hear but was giving to every person in the room anyway.
He added the improvised flourish at the end — the one Soren had told him to keep — and finished with a final crash that made the whole auditorium erupt.
The standing ovation was immediate and loud. Finn was on his feet screaming, my dad was whistling so loud I worried about permanent hearing damage, and Soren had both hands pressed over his mouth and tears running down his face that he wasn't doing anything about.
I put my arm around him and he leaned into me and I felt him breathing in long, careful pulls.
Jamie took a bow that was equal parts shy and proud, and when he left the stage he was grinning so wide I thought his face might split.
The rest of the show continued, but I barely registered it. I was too busy watching Soren watch the stage, seeing the pride and emotion written all over his face, and feeling grateful that I got to be part of this moment.
When the final act finished and the lights came up, we all spilled out into the lobby where Jamie was waiting with his grandfather. The second Jamie saw Soren, he ran over and launched himself into a hug that nearly knocked Soren over.
Soren signed something to him that made Jamie laugh, and then Finn was there too, pulling his brother into another hug and ruffling his hair until Jamie batted him away with the weary dignity of an eight-year-old who was too good for this.
My parents descended next, my dad scooping Jamie up in a bear hug while my mom took about fifty pictures. Soren's siblings crowded around too, Poppy declaring loudly that Jamie was officially cooler than anyone else she knew.
The team offered congratulations with the easy warmth of guys who'd learned to care about the people their captain cared about. Cole taught Jamie a complicated handshake, Dmitri signed “good job” in what was probably terrible ASL, and Tate promised to get him free tickets to the next home game.
