Chapter 36
Lars
D ylon and I connect to score three out of our four goals in a win against Pittsburg. It is a relief the team remains unaffected by our relationship. It’s a surprise when Ace and a defender are chosen for the post-game interviews instead of the obvious choices of me, Dylon, or Liska.
The celebration is loud, and the locker room crackles with energy until I see Dylon staring at his phone and our media coordinator rushes over.
“Finn has a plan,” she says as if she’s run a marathon.
“I’m not ignoring this,” he spits out, and I rub his back to soothe his distress.
“Wait until you’re back home, and we can stage an event—”
“No! Let me in the press room.” His wet hair drips in his furious eyes.
“What’s going on?” I imagine a fan or article saying negative things about missing games or whatever. I trust our team and do not think the public or press knows about us.
“My mother,” he grits out, turning away to call the hotel and cancel his payment for her stay in New York. I retreat to my locker to search her comments and fear Dylon cutting her off financially will make the situation worse.
It’s easy to find her quoted as saying that her son is not gay and even if he is, he wouldn’t be in a relationship with me. She attacks my character, hockey abilities, and throws in a few statements that are not outright homophobic but close .
“Dyl.” I stand too close for two straight men with the media still here, but I don’t care. “This is not bad. She is giving her opinion, and I can handle it. She does not like me, and that is her right. The fans and press have said worse things in the past.” My palm cups his warm shoulder. “Ignore her. Do not give her words credibility. If she realizes she has hurt you, she might continue.”
“I don’t care. She can’t say she loves me and say those things about you or gay people. I’m not going to sit back and take her hate.” The determination in his voice prevents me from arguing. “I’m calling Finn.” He stalks into the showers for privacy, and I continue to dress.
Fifteen minutes later, I am standing against the back wall of Pittsburg’s pressroom, watching my angry boyfriend try not to scowl. With his trademark smile missing, the reporters and bloggers take notice. There is a low buzz of confusion since he’s upset and a late addition to the lineup, which is out of the ordinary.
Dylon pulls the microphone to him in a move that seems to dare people to ask him questions. One brave reporter asks him about his goal in the third period but wonders if his missed games were detrimental to his playing.
“I’ve trained almost every day for the last decade. My performance speaks for itself. Next question.” His answer sounds standard, but it lacks his teasing tone and self-deprecating jokes he is known for.
The next reporter is even braver. “Is there a reason you joined us since your PR staff denied our request to speak to you?”
Dylon clears his throat and swallows hard. “Yes, I’m sure you’ve seen my mother’s comments about the shirt I wore as a Halloween prank. You know me well enough to know I enjoy a good joke. I find my mother’s comments disgusting. My teammates are my family, and if you attack my family, I won’t stand for it. She might be my mother, but her views do not reflect mine.” He pauses, ignores the shouting of questions, and continues on.
“Patrik Liska’s fiancé is a personal friend and a valued member of the Enforcers family. Everyone who works for the team plays a hand in our success on the ice. No one deserves the cruel words my mother spoke out of ignorance. Most of you know my background. I grew up in low-income housing, but because of my help, my family no longer struggles financially. Now here’s what you don’t know.” He takes a sip of water, and I am holding my breath.
“Last year, while recovering from my shoulder injury, I became addicted to pain medication and overdosed.” There’s a collective gasp in the room as the air whooshes from my lungs. “Involuntarily, I went to rehab to save my job. I had violated the conduct code and could’ve been cut from the team. I didn’t think I had a problem, but the withdrawal was brutal.” He shudders.
The room hangs on his every word, utterly silent, recording him.
“One thing I knew, even believing I didn’t have a problem, was that if I went back to Michigan, I wouldn’t meet the requirements of the program and I’d lose my job. My teammate, my best friend, dragged me from the pit of addiction back to reality. I owe Lars Drakenberg my life. He supported my decision to get sober and declared our house dry. The team never knew what happened because I was too embarrassed to tell them, but they also blindly supported my decision to stop drinking. In my last conversation with my mother, who came to my home with a bottle of wine in hand, she insulted Lars and accused me of not being fun because I’m sober. I won’t tolerate her disparaging people who have contributed to my success, my health, and my well-being. Lars, this team, and this organization are where my loyalties lie, and if someone comes after the people I love, they are no longer welcome in my life. Thank you.” He stands and exits the room as the press jumps into action, some trying to follow him, some recording themselves, and others typing furiously on laptops.
I hope they don’t notice he said the people he loves. He is free with his emotions, and it is not as shocking as if I had said it.
My phone rings, startling me and getting my feet moving.
“Get your boyfriend in a private room with our media coordinator so I can kick his ass,” Finn hisses from the other end of the line.
“I…” I am as stunned as he is.
“That fucker won’t answer his phone. Make sure it happens.” The line goes dead .
Dylon’s in the locker room surrounded by the team. They’re all offering support and touching him. I should be the one touching him and offering comfort.
They part for me, allowing me to stand next to the man I love. “Hey,” I whisper and cup both his shoulders and press my forehead to his.
“Hey.” He exhales with a relieved sigh.
“Finn wants to kill you.” I smile.
“He can get in line. I’m sure my family has taken out a contract on me. They know a shit ton of shady fuckers who would kill for a grand or free drinks for life.” His hollow laugh falls flat.
“They will not succeed and are not smart enough to get away with it. One trip to your uncle’s bar, and they will tell the police everything.” I wrap my arms around him, thankful the team knows and we don’t have to hide our connection.
The media coordinator breaks the silence. “It’s time to leave for the plane, but Mr. Dimon offered his private room for us to talk.” She motions between herself and Dylon.
“I am coming with you,” I say.
Mr. Dimon likes to travel with the team, but he missed this game. This is a distraction he will not want. At least the flight to New Jersey is about the same as the drive from the airport to our apartment. We will be home in a few hours and can hide until a light practice tomorrow afternoon.
Regrettably, Mr. Dimon has other plans for us in the morning.
Much later, after the lights are off and Dylon’s body nestles securely against mine, I say, “You did not have to do that. Technically, what she says reveals more about her character than ours.”
“She’s my mother. We are going to receive hate, but I’ll be damned if I let her poison us. ”
“Her thoughts and opinions will never hurt us. We are stronger than that.” My shoulders loosen as he burrows his head in the space between my neck and shoulder.
“We are.” Dylon kisses the hollow of my throat. “I should’ve talked to you about disclosing my disease.”
“ K?raste , I support your decisions on how and when to talk about your life. Those decisions are yours to make, not mine.” I would never be upset over something so trivial. I did not love Boe like I love Dylon, but he did teach me that life can surprise you in terrible ways, and I want to love without fear. It’s something I’m struggling with, but Dylon makes it easy.
“But as a couple, I should—”
“Do not worry about what you think we should or should not do. I only care about supporting and loving you.” I throw a leg over his and kiss the top of his head.
“How did I get so lucky?”
“It might be your name, but I am the lucky one.” We fall asleep wrapped around each other, and the peaceful moment gets me through the next few days.
“We’re going to Mr. Dimon’s office. He said to bring you up immediately. I, for one, was not going to wait in the lobby, but we’ll be twenty seconds behind. Don’t think he won’t notice.” Finn doesn’t let us exit the elevator on his floor as he shoves in and presses the button for the top floor.
I do my best to control my panic. Depending on how Mr. Dimon found out about our relationship could determine his course of action on how to handle our contracts. We are both playing great. That is the mantra I repeat to myself.
The New York City skyline is impressive from his office, but I focus on our boss and the person the team employs for PR crisis management.
“Have a seat.” Mr. Dimon directs us to a seating area by the window across the room from his desk .
We sit without speaking, and Finn, who never stops talking, is also silent.
Mr. Dimon steeples his fingers. “I wish you had come to me with your relationship before speaking about it in front of cameras,” he says evenly.
Dylon opens his mouth, but Finn cuts in. “We were crafting ideas about how and when to disclose it and when we had a rough strategy, we planned to loop you in. He didn’t confirm their relationship so it’s only conjecture, and we can still control the narrative.”
“You are always willing to protect the players even when they do not listen to your advice.” He raises an eyebrow at Finn, who clamps his mouth shut.
“It was my fault. I used the media to draw boundaries with my mother, and it wasn’t fair to the team or my boyfriend,” Dylon concedes.
Mr. Dimon nods at the crisis manager, who gets up and leaves the room.
“Thank you for affirming your relationship and telling me the truth.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
“Wait,” Dylon exclaims, and I grip his thigh to quiet him. Mr. Dimon has foresight and vision, and we should hear his thoughts before accusing him of being underhanded.
“Mr. Drakenberg was not subtle when clinging to you in Germany. And you were completely comfortable with him. Body language is powerful and not hard to read between the two of you.” He leans back and rests an ankle on his knee.
“We told the team the other night, but our families do not know yet.” I let him read into that.
“We want to avoid being the poster boys for gay hockey players. Or bi hockey players or queer players. I didn’t figure myself out until recently.” Mr. Dimon offers me a soft smile.
“As I said before, your sexuality isn’t my concern, but I take issue when your personal relationship plays out on the ice.” Mr. Dimon sets his jaw.
“We’re playing great,” Dylon says as Finn interjects, “They are very professional.”
Mr. Dimon picks up the remote and cues up a clip of me in Germany vaulting over the wall and attacking the player who fouled Dylon. Next he plays a clip of Dylon punching the Dallas player who violated the face-off rules and knocked me out.
“You were saying?” He pins us with a formidable glare.
We do not have an excuse for our behavior.
“As your GM, I am obligated to tell you that your behavior is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Those,” he gestures to the screen, “are misconduct penalties. Any further infractions like these will result in monetary fines. As a man, I can appreciate your desire to protect your partner, but I need your personal assurances that you will refrain from egregious misconduct going forward.”
Finn begs us with his eyes to agree.
“Sir, it’s a physical game and tempers get heated, especially when we are taunted with slurs. I am not sure—”
“Drake, I’m not asking you to become a different player. You have a reputation as the primary protector of your teammates. I am telling you that you can’t attack a player akin to assault. If there is not a puck in sight, you are prohibited by me from going after another player. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” Dylon readily agrees since his demand is reasonable.
“Drake?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. I will limit my fights to puck-related incidents.” The tightness in my chest unclenches.
“That’s all I ask.”
By the time we leave for practice, we have several strategies to deal with the media regarding Dylon’s time in rehab and being a couple, but we did not decide on a timeline to come out. I would prefer to do it out of season like Liska did. Keep the focus on hockey for the time being.