Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Griffin
The door closed behind Wesley with a soft click that sounded impossibly loud in the silence of Davidson’s office. Something cracked in my chest.
This is my fault. All of it.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Davidson’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and controlled. “You haven’t just violated team policy, Griffin. You’ve put Wesley’s entire career at risk.”
The words landed like physical blows. I’d known, abstractly, that getting caught would have consequences.
But hearing it stated so baldly—that Wesley’s career was in jeopardy because of my inability to keep my hands to myself, because I’d gotten careless and comfortable and stupidly convinced we were invincible after last night’s win—made guilt twist viciously in my gut.
“I know.” My voice came out rough. “Sir, I’ll take full responsibility. Whatever consequences you need to impose, they should be on me, not Wesley. I pursued him. I—”
“Stop.” Owen held up a hand, his expression still hard. “You both made choices. But you’re the team captain, Griffin. You’re supposed to set an example, demonstrate leadership. Instead, you’ve created a situation that could damage this entire organization.”
The condemnation hit exactly where my fears lived—you’ve failed, you’re not worthy of the captain’s C, you’ve proven yourself valueless beyond your performance on the ice. My jaw tightened as I fought to maintain composure even as shame threatened to overwhelm me.
“Why?” Owen leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made me want to look away. “Why would you risk everything—your captaincy, Wesley’s career, the team’s reputation—for this relationship? Help me understand what you were thinking.”
The question demanded honesty I’d been avoiding. Maybe since the moment I’d met Wesley and felt something shift in my carefully controlled world.
“Because I love him.” The admission came out quiet but certain, the first time I’d said it out loud to anyone, not even to Wesley.
I should have told him, and now it might be too late.
“I’m in love with Wesley Hutton. And I know that doesn’t excuse violating policy or putting him at risk or being reckless. But that’s the truth. I love him.”
Something in Owen’s expression softened fractionally—not forgiveness but understanding. A recognition that this wasn’t just about physical attraction or breaking rules for the thrill of it. This was about something deeper, more complicated.
“Griffin—” Owen’s tone was gentler now, though still serious. “I understand you have feelings for him. But love doesn’t exempt you from consequences.”
“I know. And I’ll take them. Whatever they are.
” I leaned forward, desperate to make him understand.
“But Wesley shouldn’t be punished for my mistakes.
If you need to fire someone, terminate someone’s contract, let it be mine.
He tried to maintain boundaries. He knew the risks better than anyone.
I’m the one who kept pushing, who couldn’t stay away, who—”
“Griffin.” Owen cut me off, his voice firm.
“Do you understand how many problems this creates? The non-fraternization policy exists for a reason. The power dynamic between captain and staff member. The potential for harassment claims, for favoritism, for conflicts of interest. Legal is going to have a field day with this.”
My stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we might have to break both of your contracts.” Owen’s expression was grim. “Terminate them for cause. You both violated a policy you signed acknowledgment of. That gives us grounds.”
Break my contract. The words echoed in my head, abstract and terrifying all at once.
Sixteen years of professional hockey. Sixteen years of building a career, establishing myself as an elite player, earning the respect that made me valuable.
All of it potentially gone because I couldn’t keep my relationship secret.
“If you’re lucky,” Owen continued, “we’ll just fine you. Substantial fine, formal reprimand. But Griffin, I can’t promise anything until I talk to legal, HR, and ownership. This is bigger than just a policy violation. This is about the organization’s liability and reputation.”
“I understand.” The words came out steady despite the panic clawing at my throat.
My fears screamed I was worthless without hockey, without the captain’s C, without the image and success I’d built.
That being exposed as gay—as someone who’d violated policy for a secret relationship—would destroy whatever value I’d established.
“Give me twenty-four hours.” Owen’s tone was final, decisive. “Don’t talk to the media. Don’t talk to your teammates. And definitely don’t contact Wesley. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Though the idea of not contacting Wesley—of leaving him alone and suspended and probably terrified—felt wrong on every level.
“This meeting is over. I’ll call you tomorrow with the next steps.” Owen stood, signaling my dismissal. “Griffin—I hope we can resolve this in a way that’s fair to everyone. But I can’t make any promises right now.”
I left his office feeling hollowed out, gutted by shame and fear and the devastating knowledge that I’d destroyed Wesley’s career along with my own.
The facility felt hostile as I walked through it—staff I’d worked with for months now potential witnesses to my failure, teammates who might soon learn their captain had been lying to them about fundamental aspects of who he was.
I made it to my car without encountering anyone, climbed inside, and sat in the parking lot, trying to process what had just happened.
Contract possibly terminated. Career potentially over.
And Wesley—Wesley who’d trusted me despite Nashville, who’d agreed to hide despite promising himself never again, despite every rational reason to protect himself—was facing professional destruction because I’d been careless.
I have to fix this. I have to find a way to protect him.
But how? Davidson had been clear: no contact, wait twenty-four hours, let legal, HR, and ownership figure out the consequences. I was powerless, suspended in uncertainty, while Wesley suffered alone.
I drove home on autopilot, my mind spinning through scenarios and possibilities.
By the time I reached my apartment, I’d made one decision: I needed to call Michael.
Not for advice—I already knew what he’d say—but as a courtesy.
He was my agent and had been part of my life since I was eighteen.
He deserved to hear this from me before word spread through back channels.
Inside my apartment, I stood in my living room—the same space where Wesley and I had watched a movie and fallen asleep wrapped together just days ago—and dialed Michael’s number.
He answered on the second ring. “Griffin. Good timing. I was just reviewing your endorsement contracts. The outdoor sporting goods company wants to extend—”
“Michael, I need to tell you something.” I cut through his business talk, unable to delay the inevitable. “I was caught today. In a relationship with Wesley Hutton, the team’s PR manager. Owen Davidson walked in on us kissing in Wesley’s office.”
Silence on the other end of the line. Long, heavy silence that felt like judgment and disappointment and fury all compressed into the space between heartbeats.
“You were caught.” Michael’s voice, when he finally spoke, was deadly quiet. “In a relationship. With a male staff member. At the facility.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Griffin.” Anger exploded through the phone, and Michael’s control shattered.
“Do you understand what you’ve done? You’re outed.
Your career is on the line. The team’s reputation is at stake.
Everything I’ve worked to protect for sixteen years—everything your father wanted for you—destroyed because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself! ”
Each word hit like a fist, landing on bruises already tender from Davidson’s condemnation and my guilt.
“I know—” I started, but Michael wasn’t done.
“I warned you. I specifically told you that being gay was fine as long as you stayed closeted. That relationships were too risky. That coming out would destroy your career. And you did it anyway. You pursued a relationship with a staff member, violated team policy, got caught, and now everyone’s going to know. ”
“Being gay isn’t ‘fine,’ Michael.” Anger flared hot in my chest, cutting through the shame and guilt. “It’s not something you tolerate as long as I hide it. It’s who I am. It’s not a flaw to be managed or a problem to be solved. It’s me.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Yes, it is.” My voice was hard now, years of swallowing Michael’s casual dismissal of my identity finally breaking through.
“You’ve spent sixteen years treating my sexuality like a liability.
Something acceptable only if it stays invisible.
That’s not acceptance, Michael. That’s shame dressed up as career strategy. ”
Silence on the other end, Michael clearly not expecting my anger.
“I love him.” The words came out defiant despite the shame. “I’m in love with Wesley. And yes, I fucked up. Yes, I violated the policy. Yes, I got caught. But I don’t regret loving him.”
“You don’t—” Michael’s voice broke with frustration.
“Griffin, love is a luxury you can’t afford.
Your career depends on your image. Your value to teams is wrapped up in being the perfect captain, the elite player, the face of the franchise.
Being openly gay—especially being caught in a workplace relationship—destroys all of that. ”
“Maybe.” I moved to my window and stared out at Beaverton’s afternoon traffic. “Or maybe I’ve been wrong about what makes me valuable. Maybe authenticity matters more than image.”