Epilogue #2
He set down my gift and reached for the pile of presents still under the tree, pulling out a small box wrapped in gold paper with a red ribbon. He handed it to me, still grinning.
“Open it.”
I unwrapped the box with careful precision and opened it to find another key. Brass, simple, resting on white satin.
I stared at it for a beat, processing. Then I started laughing too.
“You were going to ask me to move in with you?” I looked up at Wesley, who was nodding, his grin enormous.
“Great minds think alike.” Wesley leaned into me, his shoulder pressing against mine.
“I had this whole speech planned. About how three months is fast, but sometimes you just know. About how I wanted to wake up with you every morning. About how living separately was getting ridiculous when we spend every night together anyway.”
“I had almost the same speech.” I held up his key next to mine. “Though I think my apartment’s bigger.”
“It is bigger,” he said. “And I’m flexible.”
“So, is that a yes?” I needed the confirmation, even though the answer was obvious. “You’ll move in with me?”
“Yes.” Wesley’s gaze softened, the laughter fading into something more tender. “Of course, yes. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Just didn’t know how to bring it up without seeming too eager.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since Vancouver,” I admitted. “Since the morning I woke up in your hotel room and realized I didn’t want to leave. That I wanted every morning to be that.”
My mother choked on her eggnog.
We kissed—gentle and chaste because Mom was watching from her armchair, but meaningful anyway. A promise, a commitment, the next step in building our life together.
When we pulled apart, my mother was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her expression radiating happiness.
“I’m so glad you found each other,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Nic would be—” She paused, reconsidered. “I hope Nic would be proud. Of your courage. Of your honesty. Of this.”
She gestured between Wesley and me, encompassing our relationship, our matching keys, our future together.
“I think he would be,” I said, even though I’d never know for sure. “But even if he wouldn’t—I’m proud. And I’m happy. That’s enough.”
Wesley’s hand found mine and our fingers laced together naturally. “It’s more than enough. It’s everything.”
We spent the rest of Christmas evening in seasonal comfort—eating cookies, getting buzzed on eggnog, watching Mom’s favorite Christmas movie. Wesley dozed off against my shoulder halfway through, and I let him sleep, content to just hold him while my mother smiled at us from her chair.
Three months ago, I stood in front of cameras and told the world I was gay. The movie’s credits rolled while Wesley’s breathing deepened against my shoulder. Three months ago, I was terrified that honesty would cost me everything—my career, my team, my family, my worth.
Instead, I gained this.
This living room, my mother’s acceptance, Wesley sleeping against me without fear or hiding, two keys that meant a home together, a team that was winning because of—not despite—our inclusive culture.
Three months from closeted and terrified to out and building a life with the person I loved. Three months from projecting an image to choosing authenticity. Three months from measuring my worth through achievement to understanding that being loved for myself was the real measure of success.
Not bad for twelve weeks. Wesley stirred slightly and his hand tightened around mine even in sleep.
My mother stood, gathered empty eggnog cups, and paused beside the couch. She leaned down and kissed my forehead—something she hadn’t done since I was a child—then whispered, “I’m proud of you, Griffin. For all of it.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I kept my voice low to avoid waking Wesley. “For trying. For accepting us. For this.”
“You’re my son. He makes you happy. That’s what matters.” She headed to the kitchen with the cups.
I sat in the low light of the living room, Christmas tree twinkling, Wesley warm against my side, my mother humming in the kitchen, and felt something I hadn’t felt in sixteen years of professional hockey.
Peace.
Not the satisfaction of a goal scored or a game won. Not the validation of statistics or achievements or external measures of worth. Just simple, profound peace with who I was and who I was becoming.
Wesley woke as I shifted slightly, and his eyes opened slowly. He was disoriented for a moment before he focused on my face.
“Did I fall asleep?” he mumbled, adorably groggy.
“Yeah. Movie’s over.” I brushed a hand through his hair, the gesture casual and intimate in ways I’d never allowed myself before. “Ready for bed?”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Wesley sat up, rubbed his eyes, then smiled at me. “We’re moving in together.”
“We’re moving in together.” The reality of it settled in with quiet joy.
“That’s a big step.”
“Good thing we both took it at the same time.” I stood and pulled him up with me. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. Early flight back to Portland tomorrow.”
We headed to my old room where we’d been staying.
The room held a double bed barely large enough for two grown men, especially when one was a six-foot-three hockey player.
The bed was pushed against the far wall with just enough space to navigate.
But we made it work, gravitating toward each other in sleep anyway.
In the darkness, Wesley wrapped around me from behind, his arm across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
“Griffin?” His voice was quiet, intimate.
“Yeah?”
“I love you. And I’m really glad you asked me to move in. Even if I was planning to ask you first.”
“I love you too.” I laced my fingers through his, where they rested against my stomach. “And for the record—I’m glad you were planning to ask. Means we’re both ready for this.”
“We are ready.” Wesley pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “For this and whatever comes next.”
I closed my eyes, let myself sink into the affection and safety of being held, and thought about what came next: moving in together, the rest of the season, playoffs hopefully, building a life that was ours and honest and free.
Three months ago, I’d been terrified of being discovered. Now I was looking forward to a future where hiding wasn’t necessary, where Wesley woke up beside me every morning, where home meant the two of us together.
“Hey, Wesley?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For choosing me. For standing beside me through all of this. For making me believe that being honest could lead to something better.”
“Always.” Wesley’s arm tightened around me. “Now go to sleep. We have a whole future ahead of us to be grateful for.”
I smiled in the darkness and let myself drift off, Wesley’s heartbeat steady against my back, his presence a promise that I wasn’t facing anything alone anymore.
Three months ago, I chose courage over fear. Sleep was pulling me under. Best decision I ever made. Well, second best.
First was falling in love with Wesley Hutton.
All the courage I needed came from loving him.