Chapter 28 #2
We walked up to the front door together, and I felt my heart pounding.
I knocked instead of using my key and waited.
The door opened thirty seconds later. My mom stood there in jeans and a sweater, hair pulled back, face lighting up when she saw me before shifting to confusion when she saw Grant.
“Jace.” She pulled me into a hug, careful with my shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart. We've been so worried.”
“I'm okay, Mom.” I hugged her back with my good arm. “Is everyone here?”
“Your dad and Leah are in the living room. We saw the news, and—” She stopped, looking at Grant properly for the first time. Recognition flickered across her face. “Coach Sutherland.”
“Mrs. Hartley.” Grant held out the flowers and donuts. “These are for you. Thank you for having me.”
She took them automatically, still processing. “I... of course. Come in. Both of you.”
We followed her inside, and I felt the weight of what we were about to do settle in my chest. The house smelled like coffee and something baking—probably banana bread, my mom's stress-baking specialty. I heard voices from the living room, my dad's low rumble and Leah's sharper tone.
“Derek, Leah,” Mom called. “Jace is here. And he brought... someone.”
The voices stopped. Footsteps. Then my dad appeared in the doorway, still in his work clothes, face already creased with worry. Leah was right behind him, arms crossed, eyes narrowing when she saw Grant.
“Coach Sutherland,” Dad said carefully. “This is unexpected.”
“Mr. Hartley.” Grant extended his hand. “I appreciate you letting me into your home.”
Dad shook it, but his expression was guarded. “Jace, what's going on?”
I set the donut box on the coffee table and turned to face them. Mom, Dad, and Leah all watching me with varying degrees of concern and suspicion. Grant stood slightly behind me, close enough to feel but not touching.
“You saw the news,” I said. Not a question.
“We saw pictures of you and your coach looking very cozy at some cabin,” Leah said bluntly. “And about fifty articles speculating about whether you're sleeping together.”
“Leah—” Mom started.
“What? We're all thinking it.” Leah looked at Grant. “So are the rumors true? Are you two involved?”
The room went very quiet.
I felt Grant tense beside me, ready to answer, but I spoke first. “Yes.”
Mom's hand went to her mouth. Dad's expression shifted through surprise to something I couldn't read. Leah just nodded like she'd expected it.
“How long?” Dad asked.
“Still pretty new.” I kept my voice steady.
“And the cabin?” Mom's voice was small. “That was real?”
“Grant drove up to check on me when I was struggling after the injury. He stayed to make sure I was okay.” I looked at Grant, then back at my parents. “And yeah, it was real.”
“By spending a week alone with you in the woods?” Mom's voice had an edge now.
“I know what it looks like.” I cut her off. “I know it's complicated and messy and probably breaks a dozen rules. But before you decide what you think about him, you should know something.”
Grant's hand touched my lower back, brief and grounding. I took a breath.
“When I was at my lowest, Grant didn't walk away. He didn't tell me to deal with it on my own. He showed up.” I felt my throat tighten. “And not because it was his job or because it would look good for the team. He showed up because he cared. Because he saw me, not just the player.”
Dad's expression shifted slightly.
“He's never once given me special treatment on the ice. If anything, he's harder on me than anyone else because he's terrified of looking like he's favoring me.” I looked at Grant. “But off the ice? He's been the one person who's made me feel like I matter beyond what I can do with a hockey stick.”
“Jace—” Mom started.
“I love him,” I said simply. “And I know that complicates everything. I know it puts both our careers at risk. I know it's not what you wanted for me. But it's real, and I'm not going to apologize for it.”
Mom's eyes went bright. Dad was very still.
Grant stepped forward slightly, and I felt his presence steady me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, I know this isn't what you wanted for your son. I know the optics are terrible and the situation is complicated.” His voice was calm, measured.
“But I need you to know that Jace is the most remarkable person I've ever coached.
He's brilliant and dedicated and works harder than anyone I've ever met. And yes, I'm in love with him.”
“But more than that,” Grant continued, “I respect him. I've never made a coaching decision based on our relationship. I've benched him when he needed to be benched. I push him when he needs to be pushed. And I will always prioritize his health and career over anything else.”
Dad studied Grant for a long moment. “You're asking us to trust that you can separate your personal feelings from your professional obligations.”
“I'm telling you I already have. Every day.” Grant's voice was firm. “And I'll continue to do so. Because Jace's future matters more to me than my own comfort.”
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle.
Dad looked between us, processing everything we'd just told them. Then he asked the question I'd been dreading. “How serious is this? Because if it's just... if you're just—” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable. “I need to know if this is worth the risk you're both taking.”
Grant met his eyes without flinching. “The truth is that your son is my boyfriend. The public doesn't know that yet—we're being careful about how and when we confirm it because of the media pressure. But privately? Yes. We're together. And it's serious.”
Boyfriend.
And I couldn't help it—I smiled.
Leah caught it and rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you're so gone for him.”
“Shut up,” I said, but I was still smiling.
Mom moved first. She walked over to me, cupped my face in her hands, and looked at me with eyes that were too bright. “You're happy?”
“Yeah, Mom. I'm happy.”
“Then that's what matters.” She turned to Grant. “Coach Sutherland—”
“Grant. Please.”
“Grant.” She smiled slightly. “Thank you for taking care of my son. For seeing him as a person instead of just a player.”
“It's easy when the person is worth seeing,” Grant said quietly.
Dad cleared his throat. “I need some time to process this. It's... a lot.”
“I know,” I said. “Take your time. But Dad? He's important to me. And I need you to try.”
Dad looked at Grant, then at me, and I saw something soften in his expression. “Alright. I'll try.” He paused. “But if you hurt him, Coach, we're going to have a problem.”
“Understood,” Grant said.
Leah walked over and pointed at Grant. “If I find out you're taking advantage of him in any way—emotionally, professionally, whatever—I will end you. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good.” She turned to me. “And you. Stop hiding shit from us. We're your family. We can handle it.”
“I know. I'm sorry.”
She pulled me into a hug, and I felt the tightness in my chest ease slightly.
Mom ushered us toward the kitchen. “Alright, enough drama. Everyone sit down. I made banana bread, and Jace brought donuts which means someone's getting spoiled.” She looked at Grant. “Do you drink coffee, Grant?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Good. Sit. Talk to me about how you're keeping my son from destroying himself before prelims.”
I caught Grant's eye across the table and saw relief mixed with exhaustion. We'd survived. My parents knew. The truth was out in the space that mattered most.
The media could speculate all they wanted. The world could have its opinions. But here, in my parents' kitchen, surrounded by family who loved me despite everything, the truth was simple:
Grant was mine. I was his. And we were done hiding from the people who mattered.