Chapter 41
Austin
We scheduled Pride Night for our last home game of the regular season. In a perfect world, we’d schedule it in June for Pride Month. But it’s not a guarantee we’ll have a home game, and it’s taunting the hockey gods.
The team is aware of our plan, and Finn met with us to discuss our statement. It was trickier than I thought because of the league’s stance on player/trainer relationships.
I crane my neck. “Do you see Brant?” Since we’re playing the New York Nationals, Rhys Brant wants to join us on the ice for Pride Night. His team doesn’t involve LGBTQ members in their celebration.
It seems like all of New York showed up to support us.
Sunshine laces our fingers together. “He might have a hard time getting permission to leave his team for enemy territory.” Gray appears calm, but he’s eager to thank Rhys in person.
His statement to the press and at the police station brought a public outcry to the case and ultimately forced Dumas’s attorney to drop both the civil and criminal charges.
From what Gray’s lawyer said, Dumas’s father was the force behind pressing the lawsuits.
“True.” The visiting team’s locker room and entry to the ice are on the opposite side of the arena.
“I gave security a heads-up, and Finn said he’d escort him if he comes over.
” Brant is half out. His team, friends, and family know, but he hasn’t discussed his sexuality publicly.
We’ve texted a bunch of times since the altercation with Dumas, and he’s a great guy.
The crowd is fired up because we’re in the playoffs and playing great hockey. Earlier, I saw the sea of Pride jerseys, and it brought tears to my eyes.
“Look alive, my stud muffins. The show’s about to start.” Finn rolls up with authority and deposits Brant behind us.
“Hey, man, good to see you.” I let go of Gray and give him a buddy hug.
“I’d give my left nut to play for a team like this.” He grins, peering down the tunnel.
“I’m so grateful to you, man.” Gray wraps him in a two-arm bear hug. “Thank you.”
Mr. Dimon exits an office, and I wave him over. “Mr. Dimon, have you met—” He abruptly turns and stalks away before I can introduce him to Rhys. “That was weird.”
The music blares, and the announcer gives his cue for us to walk onto the ice. There’s a rainbow carpet for us, and the players have their skate guards on.
We walk forward with Jayce McKenna, our Director of Player Development, his wife Madyson, and fiancé Emmet, at the front of the procession. The cheers are deafening as we reach the end of the tunnel.
“This is the greeting I imagine we’ll get when we win The Cup,” I mutter in Gray’s ear.
My chest fills with a surreal pride as we walk forward. In addition to a sea of Pride jerseys, there are Pride flags and banners waving. The song “Pink Pony Club” works the crowd into a frenzy.
My sister, Lori, is in the crowd tonight for support. She’s been an amazing ally and has kept our parents from spouting homophobic rhetoric. I can’t see her yet.
King stumbles, his ankles turning in. He glances over his shoulder with wide, terrified eyes.
Grayson lunges forward, calling my name, snaking an arm around King’s waist. We flank him to keep him upright.
The one word I would use to describe King is smooth.
Ten months make a world of difference. He arrived shy and cautious, but as he became comfortable with us, he’s shown his strength and unflappable demeanor.
He handles insults on the ice better than most veterans and moves with grace and ease. To see him stumble is more than disconcerting.
“They’ll all know,” he whispers, shrinking into himself.
“We’ve got you.” Gray tightens his arm around him. “They don’t know shit.”
“You’re an ally,” I declare, giving him an out if he’s not ready for this. Some members of the organization are walking out to represent their loved ones and aren’t technically a part of the LGBTQ community.
My fears about people’s perception of me have vanished as I concentrate on King.
“Smile for your parents,” Grayson urges him.
“I’m ruining your moment.” King tries to break away from us but trips.
“We’re good,” I assure him.
“This could be hilarious.” Brant steps up even with us. “The rumors of you guys in a poly relationship like McKenna are going to be delicious. I want in on this.” He drapes an arm over Grayson’s shoulder, and I fight the urge to snarl at him since he’s helping King.
King stifles a laugh and smiles.
My insides are ready to burst with the acceptance and love the crowd is giving us. “I wish I could bottle this,” I say in awe.
“This matters,” Gray agrees. “For all the scared kids who think no one will understand or love them, this is life-changing.”
With that, King steels himself and steps forward, out of our arms, to wave at the crowd.
“You did good,” I praise Grayson for helping King find his strength. Spontaneously, I kiss the side of his head, and there’s an audible gasp from the crowd.
“Cat’s out of the bag.” Brant whoops and throws his arms around both of us.
“I should kiss you both.” He laughs and ruffles our hair before going to stand next to King on the rainbow carpet.
His energy reminds me a little of Benz, but he’s got a redheaded temper for sure.
Playing on the same team as him would be a privilege.
I’m floating on air, ready to fight for every goal to bring The Cup to this city.
Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself and tempting the hockey gods.
We start off on a high, and Drake scores in the first three minutes. But then Kenney gets his stick on the puck by our goal and gets tangled up with their winger. He goes down and doesn’t get back up.
Gray vaults over the boards to tend to him.
“I heard a pop,” Kenney groans. Gray and I carry him off the ice, and they disappear into the treatment room.
Benz is hyping up the bench, and I join in. “We’ve got this, team. Make Kenney proud.”
The Nationals are a young team that didn’t make the playoffs this year, and they’re resorting to violence. I can hear Brant’s voice telling his teammates to chill out.
In between periods, the team doctor informs us that Kenney has an ACL tear and Grayson has taken him to the hospital.
I give a speech about rising above adversity, and Lucky loosens us up with a two-minute dance party for extra good luck.
During the third period, I take a hit from the back that pitches me forward on the ice, and my helmet hits first. It makes me woozy, but I stumble over to the bench unassisted, grateful I wasn’t hurt worse.
Next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes to King and Brant kneeling over me, yelling my name.
King and I are never on the ice at the same time because we play the same position.
And I don’t remember taking the ice for my next shift.
The arena is too quiet.
“Sunshine,” I call for Grayson. “I need Sunshine.” He’ll know what to do.
The doctor and assistant trainer help me off the ice and won’t let me sit on the bench. I’m taken straight to the treatment room.
Everything is hazy, and I don’t understand why Gray isn’t with me. He’s always there when I need him.
The doctor says “concussion” as if it’s not the first time. That’s when I notice the team gathering in the doorway.
“Did we win?” I ask.
“We did.” Drake takes a step into the room. “We can take him home,” he says to the doctor.
“Sunshine will take me,” I insist, looking around for him. “Hey, Lori, when did you get here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and showed up for Pride Night.” She’s wearing a Pride T-shirt we sell for fans.
“Cool. Where’s G?” I have a killer headache, and my eyes won’t focus.
“He’s with Kenney. He’ll meet us there,” Lucky says softly.
“You’re all being weird,” I mutter.
I wake up with a start, and hands push me back on my couch, but they’re the hands I want.
“Sunshine?” My voice sounds distant as I keep my eyes shut and fumble around for him.
“I’m here.” Gray kneels beside me, cradling my face.
“Don’t take my sunshine away,” I sing and giggle.
“Is he going to be okay?” Lori asks.
“Lori? You came to visit?” I squint at her but can’t fully open my eyes.
“You betcha, big bro.”
“Can you swallow these pills?” Gray asks, and his smile lights up the room when I do.
The next time I wake up, we’re in bed.
“Hey, what’s the date?” he asks. The question throws me off, and I stare at him. “Okay, sleepyhead, I’ll start easy. What’s your name?”
“Austin Powers Lapointe,” I answer.
“Close enough.” He laughs. “What’s my name?”
“G Sunshine Ward.” I pat his face. “Why are you asking me?”
“Sorry, Tinny, but you have a concussion.”
“No, I don’t.”
I wake again to bright lights and Doc talking to Grayson. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“How much do you remember about last night?” Doc asks.
I sit up, thankful I’m not naked. Gray wouldn’t call Doc if one of us suffered a sex injury. “Umm.”
“It was Pride Night,” Grayson prompts.
“My head hurts.” I rub my temples.
“It’s only been three hours,” Gray says to Doc.
“His pupils look good, so if he stays awake for an hour, give him more acetaminophen; otherwise, promptly when he wakes up again.” Doc turns to me. “You had us worried. It’s good to see you awake.”
I tilt my head; my brain has a hard time processing his words.
I am literally on the sites that make fun of people coming out of anesthesia, but my actions weren’t from a drug but confusion.
Gray blames himself for not being there, but he was doing his job.
Despite my protests, I apparently have a severe concussion.
Grayson panicked when my symptoms didn’t get better the next day and took me to the hospital for an MRI.
No brain bleeds or swelling, just me acting like a moron.
Lori stayed the night with us but had to leave for work. Gray assured her I’d be fine. Fine is relative, if you ask me.
“He’s seen it,” Gray whispers to King as he lets him into our apartment.