Chapter 28
Grayson
Austin has a panic attack as soon as he tells me he loves me, and at first I think he is being a smartass. I’m trained for this, but the sight of my big hockey player boyfriend struggling for air is unnerving. I rub his sternum and speak calmly to restore normal breathing.
The seconds pass as long as hours as his anxiety decreases.
“I’m here. You’re fine.” I hold him down as he tries to leave the bed.
“It’s here. Everywhere.” His eyes are wild with panic.
“Will King be all right to walk out on the ice for Pride Night?” I blurt out the first thing that pops in my head that will redirect his brain. My man puts himself last, and I can use it to my advantage.
“W-w-what?” he sputters, but he’s able to take a full breath in.
“I’m worried about King. Are you?” I model deep breathing, holding his hand above my heart with my other one on his.
He automatically syncs with me, then falls on his side laughing.
“I think I’m dying, and you…you ask me about King?” he huffs.
“It worked, didn’t it.” I take a fistful of his short hair and yank his head back to kiss him. “You scared the hell out of me. Tell me what happened.”
His eyes skate away, and his jaw tightens.
“Hey.” I tuck my head under his chin so he’s not self-conscious. “I love you, and I’m not going to judge you. All I want is to figure out how to avoid what happened.”
“It was so fast,” he croaks. “Pure joy telling you the words I’ve been holding back, and then there was no air.”
I’m nodding into his neck. “That must’ve been terrifying.” I leave the sentence hanging as if it’s a question.
“Godfuckingdamnit.” He goes limp.
“What?” I surge up to check his pupils.
“The answer is shame. Victoria asked me to connect the similarities in my episodes of darkness, and it’s shame. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“That makes sense.” I curl back into his chest. “It’s a hugely powerful emotion. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been scary, but it’s hard to watch the man I love have a panic attack.” I cradle his head.
“Say it again.”
“Tinny, I love you.” My voice is loud in the quiet of his room, happy to chase all remnants of shame away.
“Again.”
“Tinny, I love you so much it scares me.” I breathe out.
“Me too,” he says in a small voice.
“At least we can be scared together.” I roll so he’s on top of me. My head swims with theories I’m afraid to verbalize. Pushing him to face something he’s not ready for won’t make it better. I could make it worse, and I would do anything to ensure he doesn’t suffer.
“Sunshine?”
“Yeah?” I look up into his sky-blue eyes.
“I don’t ever want to be without you. Ever. I love you.”
“Good.” I pinch his ass to lighten the moment, hiding my relief that he can say the words without passing out again. “Now you’re stuck with me. No takesies-backsies.”
Austin’s laugh fills the room, but his face crinkles with anxiety. “You haven’t pulled that since middle school.”
“That’s how serious I am,” I deadpan. His features relax, and my concern bleeds away too.
“Don’t have a note handy with an appropriate quote to express my love.” His fingers tenderly glide through my hair. “How we got here is unbelievable, but my life is so much better because of it.”
“Your words are better than a quote because they’re real. You were solidly in the friend zone because I wouldn’t have fucked up our friendship for a…” I wave my hand, trying to conjure words. We’ve crossed so many friendship boundaries, but I don’t regret it.
“For sex,” he finishes for me.
“Right,” I agree, with a hug. The only significant time I spent away from him was the year he got pulled up to the NHL and I stayed in Michigan to finish my undergrad degree. He convinced me to live with him in New York to do my grad work. I can’t imagine life without him.
“This—us—was never about sex.” Austin sounds unsure, and I hope to turn the tables on him.
“We are so much more than that, but don’t even try to tell me after you planted the best kiss of my life on me that you didn’t have sex on the brain.” My light tone teases him as I lick into his mouth.
“Maybe ten-percent about sex.”
“See. Muah.” I exaggerate a kiss on his cheek. “Talk more or eat?” Today has been momentous, and my goal is to give him what he needs.
“Eat. And listen to another audio recording on your app.”
“Deal.” I remind myself to breathe.
We’ll be okay.
The practice facility is quiet, and no one has come to see me before the afternoon skate. It makes me nervous instead of grateful. And I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit to worrying about Austin.
He loves me, but saying it caused him to be so overwhelmed that he almost passed out.
He grew up with well-meaning parents who discouraged any emotions, so he never learned how to process his feelings.
I’m not a professional in mental health, but I’m an expert on him.
If he continues to put the team and other people first before dealing with his own emotions, it could cause a breakdown in public.
I’ll do anything to protect him from that.
He has an appointment later with the sports psychologist, and I encouraged him to talk to her about what happened even though it doesn’t relate to hockey.
The black-and-purple logos, along with the layout, are so familiar I could find my way to the locker room blindfolded. I wander into the team’s space to put eyes on the players who need a stretch or a taping.
As I walk in, Benzy leaps over the bench and yells, “Freeze.” No one takes him seriously, but everyone turns his way. “The boys are back!” He fist-pumps while twerking.
Liska grunts as if to say “What the hell are you talking about.”
“Look, the twins are twinning again.” Benz points to me and Austin. “Let’s see your socks,” he demands.
Austin’s pale skin is bright pink, and this is the type of situation I fear might guilt him into telling the truth he’s not ready for.
I cross my ankles and pretend to be scandalized. “A gentleman never shows his socks in public. Mine are black, like your heart.” I toss my hair back with indignation.
“They say goalies are weird. Trainers are unhinged,” Benzy complains. “All I’m saying is I want things to go back to normal. Newsflash: we’ve noticed the tension between our captain and caretaker.” He slumps down on the bench.
My face must show as much shock as Austin’s. “You think we’re fighting?” he croaks.
The room is silent, and the team glances at each other nervously, hoping someone will speak up.
“It’s us. We’re fine, don’t worry,” I say to take the heat off Austin.
“You don’t go out with us anymore,” Lucky accuses me, and I’m so taken aback, I remain silent.
“Here’s the thing. You two were like Velcro, and now you avoid each other. It’s not our business. We’re not doing an intervention—”
“Thank you,” Austin cuts King off. “Really, you guys are amazing, and I… we appreciate you all. Gray and I are fine. We’re trying new things, but we’ll always be friends.”
“New things?” Drake raises a suspicious eyebrow.
“Yes, we’re splitting up at team functions to spy on all of you and report back to Coach. Now you’ve foiled our plan.” I hang my head and snap my fingers as if to say “Oh shoot.”
Benz says, “Liars,” at the same time as Lucky says, “Dickheads.”
“Fine, don’t tell us. You’re acting like a snow leopard hiding in plain sight by blending in. But we see you.” Lucky points two fingers at his eyes and then at mine. “I’m watching you.”
Coach steps into the locker room and frowns at his team, who are still in their street clothes. “Get your asses on the ice. Now!” Everyone scrambles to get dressed, and I snag a few players to come with me to the treatment room.
As I’m walking out, my eyes find Austin’s, and as expected, he’s concerned, and the wheels are turning in his head. He should talk to a professional before making the decision to come out. I don’t want him to feel pressured into it.
During practice, Benz gets a puck stuck in his pads, and I help him fish it out. “Austin and I are fine. I promise you don’t have to worry.” I give him a reassuring pat.
“You’re so important to this team. We couldn’t do it without you,” he says, and I laugh. “It’s not funny, it’s true.”
His hurt sobers me. “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I’m doing my job, and any other trainer would keep you guys healthy.”
Benz shakes his head. “You’re delulu. That’s horseshit.” He skates away, but I don’t have a response.
His compliment sits in my chest like a strange itch I can’t scratch. He clearly believes it, so maybe I should too. Slowly, I’d let my intrusive thoughts become reality, ignoring the actions of others that disproved my thoughts. Austin isn’t the only one with lots of work to do on himself.
King comes in after practice for a hamstring stretch. “Had a little spasm.”
“Let’s go to the mats. It’ll be easier for me.” We cross the hall, and he lies down. “Did it bother you during practice, or was it only one spasm?” I ask him several other questions while I massage and manipulate his legs.
He can handle pressure on it, and there aren’t any sore spots. “It’s probably dehydration. Make sure you drink extra water and electrolytes.”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Austin says with amusement from the doorway as I’m standing over King with my chest against his leg in the air. “Come find me when you’re done.”
“I won’t take up too much of your man’s time,” King calls after him.
Austin freezes for a second but doesn’t turn around and walks away stiffly.
“Oops, my bad,” King mumbles.
“What are you sorry for?” I turn his leg out to stretch his inner thigh.
He stares at me with apprehension. “Grayson, how many Black men are on the team?”
“Only you.” I have no idea where this is going or if it was a trick question.
“And how many Black players in the league total?”
“Four or five?” I ask because I’m not totally sure.
“People who gatekeep my Blackness would say four, but most white people would say five,” he says, as if that explains his point, but I’m more lost than ever.
“I learned to read the room to survive, and I can tell who tolerates me because they have to, who not to walk down a dark alley with, and who genuinely cares. I’m an expert at reading people because my safety depends on it.
” He holds up his hand when I try to argue.
“That is a totally different discussion. But you and our captain aren’t avoiding each other because of a fight, but because you’re afraid of outing yourselves. ”
I’ve sunk down onto the mat next to him with my mouth hanging open. My first instinct is to deny it, but I don’t.
“Don’t worry. I’d never out anyone. I have mad respect for both of you.” He uses my shoulder to stand up. “We good?”
“Sure thing,” I say automatically, and he leaves.
We weren’t as careful as we thought. Austin finds me still sitting on the floor and rushes over.
“Are you okay?” His eyes scan me as he reaches for me.
The truth is a double-edged sword that I can’t protect him from because it always comes out in the end, so I take a deep breath. “King knows about us. I didn’t tell him,” I add.
Austin’s knees give out, and he collapses next to me, grasping my hand.
“King won’t out you.” His palm is clammy in mine.
“I know. He’s a true teammate.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Listen.” I pause, gathering my thoughts and courage. “You might have the urge to tell everyone right away, but it’s probably best to talk to Victoria before doing anything.”
Austin’s blue eyes cloud with confusion, and he tilts his head to the side in an unasked question.
“The practice facility isn’t private enough for this conversation,” I say, patting the mat with my free hand.
“What aren’t you saying?” He tries to draw his hand away, but I won’t let him.
“I would do anything for you. Take a bullet. Whatever it takes.” I take his other hand, and he softens. “But there are things out of my control and yours.”
“Go ahead and say it.” He momentarily takes his hand out of mine to swipe his sweaty forehead.
I ground myself in the acidic scent.
“You want to tell the team about us so they don’t worry, but I’m concerned about what happens to you afterward.” My fingers grip his so hard they turn white.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Eventually, you will be. I’m positive of that. But.” When I pause, he makes an impatient sound. “Have you ever considered that the darkness you’ve identified as shame is overriding your nervous system?” I let the question sit between us.
“I don’t understand.” His brow scrunches, and there isn’t any anger in his voice.
“You can disagree with me, but I’ve noticed a pattern since you told me about it. It takes over when you experience extreme emotions. Good and bad. Self-loathing and”—I wince as I say—“love. It would be completely normal to initially have feelings of shame about loving a man.”
“No,” he disagrees.
Instead of arguing, I let him process what I’ve said.
“That’s…sad.” His head drops to his chin.
“Managing feelings is a skill most adults struggle with, and your family didn’t tolerate big emotions. As someone who has known you for years, you have a hard time with that.” He lets me hug him, and relief courses through me.
“It makes me sound self-deluded.”
“Nah, most people don’t share their true feelings.
And you were able to identify it as the correct emotion after a few sessions.
It takes some people years and years.” I get the laugh I was aiming for.
“My main concern is that you choose your mental health over prioritizing the team.” I hold him close as if that will convince him.
Austin pulls away but keeps an arm around me. “I’m reeling right now.”
“Are you upset with me?” I ask, sucking in a breath.
“No, you should be able to tell me your fears. I’m no relationship guru, but that’s basic stuff.
” He pulls me back into a bear hug. “If I’m honest, you’re probably right.
I’ve dealt with repressing things for so long, I never considered the problems it could cause.
I promise to talk to Victoria about everything before I make any big decisions. ”
The air leaves my lungs in a slow exhale, expelling my anxiety with it. The truth has weighed me down, but now I’m relieved and lighter. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.”
“Better than fine.” He kisses me on the mat in the practice facility, unconcerned that someone could see us. It both elates and terrifies me with the taste of cinnamon in my mouth.