Chapter Twenty-Four
Troy paced his living room, waiting for his phone to ring. He’d texted Mom last night and asked her to call him this morning before practice. Today was the day he’d come out to her.
He was ready. For the past two weeks, Troy was spending every possible moment with Harris.
There were road trips, and plenty of time-consuming obligations for both of them in Ottawa, but whenever neither of them was busy, they were together.
He wanted to tell his mom about his boyfriend. He wanted her to know how happy he was.
He was also so nervous that he nearly jumped when his phone finally rang.
“Hi,” he said.
“Is everything okay?” Mom sounded worried, and Troy felt terrible. He should have assured her in his text that nothing was wrong.
“Yeah. Sorry, I should have—everything is fine. Great, actually. I just, um, wanted to tell you something.”
“Okay...” She said the word slowly, and he could hear the curiosity in her voice.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Troy! Who cares? Don’t make me wait!”
He laughed a little at that. “All right. So the thing is...” He sighed, and started pacing again.
He’d practiced this in his head a million times, but he couldn’t find the words now.
“I need to tell you something about myself. It’s not a big deal.
I mean, it’s kind of a big deal. I hope it’s not something that—”
“Troy,” she said gently. “You can tell me anything.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m gay.”
There was silence, and then a soft whoosh of air from her end, like a sigh or a huff of disappointment. But then she said, “Oh, sweetie. Thank you for telling me.”
Troy sat on his sofa. “I’ve been wanting to, but I was scared.”
“Your father,” she said, and her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I already felt so guilty for the way he treated you, and now...” She sniffed. “It must have been a nightmare, hiding this from us.”
He couldn’t deny it, but he said, “I’m not hiding anymore.”
“I thought—” She stopped, as if ashamed of what she’d been about to admit.
“What did you think?” Troy asked gently.
“I thought you were going to be like Curtis. Every year you seemed to be more and more like him. And you were friends with Dallas Kent, who reminded me so much of Curtis when he was young.”
Troy grimaced. He hadn’t known his dad when Curtis was young, of course, but he wasn’t surprised to learn he’d been like Dallas.
“When he left me,” Mom continued, “I worried that I was going to lose you both. That you’d take his side because...” She trailed off and sobbed, and Troy’s eyes welled up.
“I would never take his side, Mom. I’m sorry I acted like him. It just seemed...safe. I was scared of people finding out I was gay, so I tried to be someone else. Someone he would respect.”
“I know. I understand now. And I’ve known for years that you aren’t like him at all. Since he and I split up, you’ve been there for me. You’ve been such a good friend to me, which is something I could never say about Curtis.”
“I’m glad you’re happy now. I’m glad you got away.”
“So am I. God, I love you so much. I wish I could hug you right now.”
“Me too. I love you.”
She sniffed again. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. He might find out, though. I’m going to come out publicly, I think.”
“Oh wow. Like Scott Hunter?”
“Well,” Troy scoffed. “I’m not going to kiss my boyfriend on live television, if that’s what you mean.”
“Do you...do you have a boyfriend?” She sounded excited.
Troy smiled. “I do, actually.”
“What? Tell me everything about him! Can you send me a photo?”
So Troy told his mother everything he could think of about Harris. He didn’t stop smiling the entire time he told her about how they’d met and gotten to know each other, about Harris’s ridiculously loud laugh, and his wonderful family.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Mom said. “He sounds adorable.”
“He is. I really like him. You’ll like him too. Here, I’m sending a pic.”
He texted her one of his favorite photos of Harris. One that he had taken while Harris had been making the apple pie in Troy’s kitchen two weeks ago. He had flour on his shirt, and his hair was a little rumpled, but he was grinning like Troy was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“I love him!” Mom squealed. “Look at how cute he is! I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for you, too. We both found nice men.”
“We did. I’m glad you found yours when you were much younger than I was.”
“I got lucky. So where are you anyway?”
“Hawaii. We’re on Kauai.”
“Shit. It must be the middle of the night there.”
Mom laughed. “Time has no meaning to me anymore. We’re in a different time zone every week, almost.”
“Still having fun?”
“We’re having the best time. I can’t thank you enough for helping us be able to do this. It’s been incredible. You’ll have to do it yourself someday. Maybe after you retire, with your man.”
Troy flushed a bit, but smiled. The idea of spending his life with Harris was overwhelming and exciting. And probably a bit much to be thinking about this early into the relationship. “Maybe I will. Someday. But right now I have to get to practice, and you should go to bed.”
“I love you, Troy. And I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you too. I miss you.”
“Me too. I’ll see you and Harris soon, okay?”
Troy loved his mom so much. He should have come out to her years ago. “Okay.”
He ended the call, and was so excited to get to the arena he almost forgot his coat. He couldn’t wait to tell Harris.
Before Troy got a chance to find Harris at the arena, he got called into Coach Wiebe’s office.
“Just need to talk to you for a sec, Barrett,” Wiebe said. He looked anxious, but not angry. Troy had no idea what this would be about.
“What’s up?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage.
Wiebe nodded at one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Shit. This couldn’t be good.
“I just had a meeting with management. Apparently you’ve upset Commissioner Crowell.”
Troy’s stomach dropped. God, he was about to be suspended. Or tossed down to the AHL. Or worse. “I wasn’t trying to,” he said.
Coach smiled wearily. “It doesn’t take much, I don’t think.”
Troy relaxed a bit. It seemed his coach was on his side.
“I’m supposed to discipline you. To be honest this whole thing makes all of us very uncomfortable: the GM, the owners. Everyone.”
Troy swallowed. He had no idea what to say.
Was he supposed to apologize? Defend himself?
He’d known, when he’d decided to start posting about sexual assault again, that he was going against the commissioner’s instructions.
He’d expected some sort of backlash, so he should be able to face it now that it had come.
“I’m sorry if I made your job harder,” Troy said carefully, “but I don’t regret using my voice to address something important.”
Coach raised his eyebrows. “It’s not you who’s making us uncomfortable, Troy. We agree with you. Even the owners have said they’re impressed with what you’re doing. We want our players to be good role models, and to contribute to the community. It’s Crowell who’s causing us problems.”
Wow. Troy had not been expecting any of that. His throat felt tight. After coming out to Mom less than an hour ago, and now receiving this unwavering support from his employers, he was a little overwhelmed. “Oh,” he said.
“To be honest, Crowell kind of has it out for this team. He hates that we don’t draw big crowds, and it’s no secret that he wants to move us to a larger American market.”
“We’ve been getting bigger crowds lately,” Troy said, as if that would be reason enough to change Crowell’s mind.
Coach smiled. “That’s what happens when you’re on fire.” His smile faded. “Crowell’s on a warpath, though. He really doesn’t like you.”
Troy shifted in his chair. “I got that impression.”
“He’s not a fan of Rozanov either. Or me.”
“Really? Why? Rozanov is one of the biggest stars in the league. He’s one of the most entertaining players to watch ever.”
“Yep. And then he voluntarily went to the smallest market team in the NHL.”
Ah. Right. “Okay. Why doesn’t he like you?”
“When I used to play, I filed a few complaints against one of my coaches for using slurs and generally being an abusive prick. He was bullying some of the rookies in particular. I didn’t like it.”
Troy’s mouth fell open. “I had no idea.”
“Because the complaints never saw the light of day. The league remembers, though, and I heard Crowell was pissed when I got this coaching job. I think I was hired just to spite him.”
Troy shook his head. “No way. You’re a great coach.”
Wiebe leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Well, there is that franchise-record win streak.”
“Did anything happen to that coach?”
Wiebe’s smile tightened. “Sure. He’s in the Hall of Fame now.”
Troy’s heart sank. “Oh.”
Coach shrugged. “I don’t regret trying. It’s hard to change anything in this league, though. Anyone who tries tends to get squashed.” He leaned forward. “So here’s what we’re going to do, Troy.”
Troy braced himself. He could withstand whatever the punishment was, he told himself. Especially since he knew the Centaurs organization was on his side.
“Absolutely nothing,” Coach finished. “We’re going to keep winning, and you can post whatever you want, and Crowell can get stuffed. Everyone in management agrees: he can’t really do anything. If he does, we’ll back you up and he’ll look like a monster. Stalemate, I’d say.”
It sounded risky to Troy, but he was still thrilled. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Now go get your gear on.”
Troy stood up. “Thanks. And, um, I really like playing here. I know it probably didn’t seem like it for a long time, but I’m glad I’m here.”
“I thought you might be,” Coach said. He put his head down and began scribbling some notes on a lined pad of paper. “Oh, and you should probably disclose your relationship with Harris to management.”
Troy froze halfway to the door. “What?”
Coach glanced up, smiling. “I saw you smooching in his office last week.”