He laughs a little, in spite of himself.
“You have seen my highest highs and my lowest lows. You have seen me weep like a baby. And yet you sit here and tell me that there isno reasonyou are so hard on this boy? This boy who is just trying to be himself while also being an excellent NHL player.”
“Sometimes you can’t have both. He needs to learn that.”
After a long pause, Alexei stands and walks to the door.
“I know you think that, Ethan. But it’s not 2005 anymore. The old dinosaurs like your father? They’re gone. Retired. Hell, some ofthem are dead. We’re the geezers now. If not now, then when, Ethan? If not Carter, thenwho?”
With that, he leaves the apartment, but his disappointment with me lingers.
CHAPTER FIVE
JAMIE
I wouldn't saythat the rest of the first week of camp wasgreat, per se, but it was better, which is more than I had expected. There were some small improvements; Lindholm started searching me out at lunch and Finn and I had dinner together a couple of times. He was painfully young, but it was good to have the company.
But most importantly, Ethan Tremblay finally started connecting on passes to me. I wouldn't say he had necessarily warmed up, but he could now bring himself to look in my direction long enough to send me the puck.
As a result, we were finally putting together something that looked like an offense on the ice. We still had plenty of work to do, but it felt like I was finally able to show off some of the skills that had gotten me drafted. The real test would come in the preseason games, where we would show whether the on-ice chemistry converted to in-game scoring.
I had talked to my mom and Avery each a couple of times. WithAvery, it was mostly a quick exchange of news and a decision of which game to play together that night. His second scan had come back and the doctors were a little more optimistic, finally allowing him back on the ice.
My mom continued to call almost every day. I think we were both feeling the distance more than we had anticipated. On our last phone call, she had even mentioned how much happier I was sounding. She’d been right about scheduling a time with Jeff; I’d finally gotten around to it and the conversation had helped more than I expected.
For the first time since moving to Minneapolis, I was reallyenjoyinghockey again. I knew that might change with the coming of preseason and, before long, decisions about the roster. But for now, I was feeling like I wasn't necessarily in thewrongplace.
She had also reminded me of my upcoming birthday. Somehow, it was right around the corner and I hadn't even realized it. She'd suggested taking the guys out for a celebratory drink, and I struggled to explain to her that nothing felt settled enough to celebrate – not with the end of camp and roster cuts right around the corner.
Besides, I had yet to explain to her the frosty reception I'd received from the team. The fact of the matter was I wasn't really sure they'd come if I invited them; it was best not to risk it.
The next day after practice,Coach asked Tremblay, Kovy, and me to take some questions from the press. The last time I had done this had resulted in Tremblay's outburst in the locker room; I hoped today would go smoother.
Generally, the questions were less invasive this time – apparently the reporters had been put off by the relatively bland answers I had practiced with the Huskies' PR team. Instead, I mostly had questions about how it was to be in the big leagues and whether I was worried about pre-season.
Until, that is, one of the local reporters raised his hand.
“Jamie, I was going through our briefing info and I couldn't help but notice your birthday is tomorrow. Got any plans with the team?”
My eyes go wide. I know that stuff is publicly available – hell, they can look up my height, weight, and injury status at any given moment. But still, I'm surprised to be asked the question.
Based on the look I get from Alexei, he's surprised too.
“I've been mostly focused on getting ready for the preseason. Hazard of a late September birthday, I guess.”
I was hopeful this would be enough, but apparently not.
“No plans to go out on the town with the team, then?”
This is a hard one to answer. On the one hand, if we publicly go out drinking and lose in the preseason, the press will roast us. On the other hand, if I'm not celebrating my birthday with the team, that gives them a chance to wonder whether my sexuality is distancing me from the team.
Luckily, I don't have to decide which way to go – Alexei answers before I can.
“Gerry! I told you not to give away the surprise!” he says, winking broadly. The reporters snicker around the room. “Besides! The last time I told you where we were celebrating, your paper ran averyunflattering picture of me. This time? Is secret.”
It's ridiculous, but it works. We are able to wrap up the press conference without any further hiccups.
On our way out of the press room, Alexei catches me.
