Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“I’ll come with you,” Harris said.
“No.” Troy’s voice was sharp, with a hint of panic. “Don’t.”
Harris wanted to argue, but Troy’s expression told him he shouldn’t. “All right. I’ll wait here for you.”
Troy nodded, eyes wide and terrified, and left.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
Curtis narrowed his eyes at him, and Troy glanced down at his own T-shirt. It had the official Ottawa Centaurs Pride logo on it. Every member of the team was wearing the same shirt today, but Troy still felt like he’d been outed.
“Why do you think I’m here? I thought it would be fun to see you play against Toronto.” He smiled, but it wasn’t kind.
“It’s a good rivalry,” Troy said quietly. God, he sounded as scared as he felt.
“Thought I’d see Kent play, but then all that bullshit happened. Poor kid.”
Anger flared up in Troy. What a fucking douchebag this guy was. “It’s not bullshit.”
“And,” Dad continued, ignoring him, “I didn’t know this was happening tonight.” He waved a hand at Troy’s T-shirt.
Troy swallowed hard. What could he say? A few minutes ago, he’d been ready to come out to the world. Possibly minutes away from posting that incredible video Harris—his boyfriend—had made. He’d been excited about tonight. Nervous, yes, but ready.
Now he felt like he’d been hurled back in time to the not-so-distant past where he would rather die than have anyone find out his sexuality. What if everyone looked at him the way his father was looking at his T-shirt right now?
“Troy?”
The voice came from behind him, and he turned to see Harris standing a few meters away. Troy had asked him not to follow, but he was grateful he’d disobeyed. He needed the reminder, right now, of what was important.
He liked who he was with his new teammates. He almost loved who he was with Harris. He couldn’t stand that Dad was here to tarnish all of that.
“Harris. This is, um. This is—”
Of course, Harris walked confidently up to Curtis and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Harris Drover, the social media manager for the Centaurs.”
Curtis seemed to have a hard time deciding what to snarl at hardest: Harris’s own Centaurs Pride T-shirt, the array of Pride-themed pins on his denim jacket, or at the outstretched hand. Troy knew there was no way Dad was going to shake it.
“Social media, huh?” Dad said. “So they let you hang out with the team?”
“Every day,” Harris said. His voice was cheerful, but Troy could hear the underlying irritation in it.
Curtis glanced at Troy. “In the locker room?”
A jolt of fury rocketed through Troy so forcefully that he almost lunged at his father. Instead, he curled his hands into fists at his sides and said, “I think you should leave.”
Curtis looked baffled. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you here. You’re a bigot and a shitty father.”
“Troy, what the hell are you—”
“Leave before I get security,” he said between gritted teeth.
Curtis looked at Harris, as if he was going to help him, then back at Troy. “Are you serious? You wouldn’t be in the NHL if it weren’t for me. I paid for all your hockey growing up, all those elite teams and camps. Taught you everything I knew. You’d be nothing without me.”
“I’m happy without you,” Troy said steadily. “You never cared about me or Mom. You only care about yourself.”
Curtis huffed. “Your mother. Figured this had something to do with her. What ideas has she put in your head?”
Troy raised his chin. “That I can be myself, and she’ll still love me.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Troy could say nothing. He could get Remy and have Curtis escorted out of the arena right now. This could be over. But instead, he reached for Harris’s hand.
Harris gave him a questioning look, and when Troy nodded, he took his hand, tangling their fingers together and squeezing.
The color drained from Curtis’s face.
“Harris is my boyfriend, Dad. I’m gay.”
Troy took comfort from Harris’s warm hand as he braced himself for Dad’s response to that bombshell.
Curtis just gaped a moment, then said in the quietest voice Troy had ever heard him use, “What?”
“I’m gay,” Troy repeated, refusing to cower. He held his father’s gaze with his shoulders back and his head high.
“You—” Dad said. Then he shook his head, clenched his jaw, and turned away.
He didn’t look back, and Troy felt a chill run through him as he watched him exit the arena. An adrenaline drop, probably.
“Come on,” Harris said quietly, and gently tugged on Troy’s hand. “Back to my office.”
Troy had no memory of how he got from the security desk to Harris’s office, but suddenly he was safely behind a closed door, alone with his boyfriend.
And then he collapsed to the floor, curled up with his head on his bent knees. He was crying, but he didn’t even know why. It was over. He’d never have to be afraid of his father again.
Harris was beside him instantly with an arm over Troy’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Troy. That was awful.”
Troy couldn’t speak. He just nodded against his knees.
“But I’m proud of you. God that was brave.”
He let Troy cry for a few minutes, rubbing his back and murmuring reassuring things. By the time Troy got himself under control and raised his head, he was sure his face was a mess.
“I’m relieved, mostly,” he said in a small, battered voice. “I think I’m just letting some pent-up emotion go.” He sniffed. “This is good.”
Harris grabbed a box of tissues off his desk and handed them to him. “I think so too.”
Troy used the tissues to get himself cleaned up a bit. He felt calm now, like he’d released a million burdens at once. He’d let so much bullshit, so many toxic people, guide him in the past. He’d made so many terrible decisions, and valued all the wrong things.
But somehow it had all led to this moment, sitting on the floor of a drab office while his wonderful boyfriend handed him tissues.
“I love you,” Troy said.
It was terrible timing; he had red eyes, a snotty nose, a hoarse voice, and they were both at work, but he couldn’t help it. He loved Harris, and he needed him to know.
Harris’s eyes were suddenly a little wet too. “Troy...” he whispered.
Troy started laughing, his body shaking with as much force as when he’d been crying. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked out.
But then Harris’s arms were around him, fierce and tight. Harris kissed his temple. “I love you, too. God, Troy. Of course I do.”
Troy’s heart felt like it would burst out of him. Everything bad was a distant memory. “I could have picked a better time to tell you,” he said, his laughter subsiding.
“It’s okay,” Harris said. “We’ll get it right eventually. I plan on saying it a lot.”
Troy pulled back so he could see Harris’s smile. It didn’t disappoint.
They kissed, even though Troy was a mess. Harris didn’t seem to mind at all, climbing into Troy’s lap and devouring him.
By the time they stopped kissing, Troy was sprawled out on the floor, Harris on top of him.
“Well,” Harris said. “This is unprofessional.”
“I should probably let you work.”
“Yeah,” Harris sighed. “I do have a ton of stuff to do, honestly.”
He pushed himself up off Troy, and offered Troy his hand to pull him up. They both looked like they’d been making out in a hurricane.
“I’m going to post the video now,” Troy said.
“Yeah?”
Troy spotted his phone where he’d left it earlier on Harris’s desk. He opened Instagram, then frowned. “Wait. How do I post it?”
Harris laughed, and held out his hand for the phone. “I’ll do it.”
Troy watched as Harris did whatever needed to be done, then handed the phone to Troy to write the caption underneath. Troy kept it simple: This is me.
He added emojis of a rainbow flag, a heart, and a hockey stick. Then he posted it.
Holy shit. He fucking posted it.
Harris wrapped his arms around him from behind and kissed his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
Troy covered one of his hands with his own, holding it tight over his own heart. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” He turned so he could face Harris. “I love you.”
Harris beamed at him. “Better already. I love you, too. And you can thank me by kicking Toronto’s ass tonight. Don’t make me have to post about losing after all this!”
Troy grinned. “They don’t stand a chance.”