Chapter 3
TOBIAS STOOD FROZEN AS his gaze followed Chase out the door, and it took another moment before he could turn to Josh and Riley.
The Philly Inferno alumni game.
His chance to get back on the ice.
Back to his spot between the pipes.
A return to hockey.
Holy shit, I’m going to throw up.
‘Do not throw up.’
I’ll throw up if I want to.
‘Then who do you think has to clean it?’
Fuck. Fine. I won’t throw up. Yet.
It took a couple tries to swallow past the lump in his throat.
“Um, I don’t… I never planned on going back on the ice.”
Tobias must have been hallucinating because suddenly Josh had his arms wrapped around him in a warm hug. He couldn’t remember the last time someone outside of his family hugged him, and he had no idea what to do.
“What’s happening?” Tobias muttered.
His arms hung by his side, frozen in place by shock, but Josh kept on squeezing him. He could feel a tiny piece of the ice in him melt at the unexpected show of affection.
“Think about it, okay? It could be good for you,” Josh said quietly before he let go.
He’d never been more confused in his life.
“Okay,” was all he could say, and he awkwardly turned toward the computer at the front of the room, unsure what else he could do or say in this situation.
“All right, we’ll see you next time, Tobias,” Riley said, their footsteps fading until he was alone in the gym.
What the fuck am I going to do now?
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His house sat on the edge of Cherrywood and had plenty of privacy thanks to his gated entrance, surrounding wall and no neighbors for at least a hundred yards in every direction. It may have seemed like overkill, but he craved privacy and safety.
After hitting the button in his car to work the gate, he drove down the long driveway and parked his Land Rover in front of the garage.
As he got out, he double checked the gate had closed behind him and then made his way to the front door. He was still numb when he walked inside. He’d managed to keep calm for another minute after everyone left the gym before he raced to a nearby trash can, losing the contents of his stomach.
Moving like a zombie, he’d managed to lock up the gym and drive home, muscle memory thankfully taking over since his brain wasn’t functioning.
It restarted when he heard a happy squeal and little footsteps running in his direction. A moment later Madison barreled through the foyer and jumped into his arms.
She was speaking erratically about breakfast with Gigi, her name for Tobias’ mother, Grace, and he understood none of it. All he could do was hold her close and breathe her in, her happiness an anchor keeping him from drifting out to sea.
When his sister, Natalie, had Madison six years ago, he’d made a vow to protect her from all the evils of the world.
Now that Natalie was away in Colorado Springs training for the upcoming Olympic games, he was taking care of Madison.
His mom moved in with him to help, since she was an insomniac and he had six a.m. classes to teach every day, and he was so thankful to have them both there.
He’d just underestimated the energy it would take to watch his niece for a few months.
It was a lot easier when she was younger, happy to be entertained at home. Now that she was six, her interests demanded time outside of the house. In public. He never wanted to hold her back, but he was terrified of one big thing that made taking her around town hard for him: people.
He’d had social anxiety for as long as he could remember, and he wasn’t sure why. His mom couldn’t even figure it out, especially since his sister was such a social butterfly.
All that public attention would come back if he got on the ice again.
When he played in the NHL, he was a star.
He helped the Philly Inferno win two Stanley Cups, and he won the Vezina Trophy—an award for the goaltender of the year—three times.
Unlike the thoughts in his head, he was a quiet force on the ice. Despite hiding much of himself from the press and spectators, he’d managed to be a fan favorite, thanks to his dedication to the team on and off the ice.
After a while, none of it mattered if he wasn’t playing as his true self.
Despite his social anxiety, he wanted to do everything he could for the LGBTQ+ community, and announcing his sexuality would have supported them overwhelmingly.
He’d considered coming out in the offseason after his twelfth year despite his contract being up.
He figured if the Inferno didn’t want to keep him because of his sexuality, then he wouldn’t want to play there anymore, anyway.
But as the time to make the announcement approached, he spiraled.
His brain catastrophized and he kept overthinking about all the possible worst-case scenarios, each one more sensational than the last.
Therapy helped him dig himself out of the hole he buried himself in, and eventually he was able to find a new purpose for his life: running a successful fitness center.
There was an old gym where Gym Rat Fitness stood, and the previous owner wanted to move to a warmer climate, so Tobias inherited his coaching staff.
He was thankful he didn’t have to conduct dozens of interviews to hire more people.
The gym was everything Tobias wanted, apart from having his own family one day, but his anxiety made dating impossible for him.
He wouldn’t have been the first player to come out of the closet, or even the second.
Carter Forsberg, a forward for Seattle, came out the year before Tobias retired, and Boston defenseman Nate Madson followed shortly after.
Watching the hate and vitriol thrown at them from so many angles made Tobias want to come out even more.
As a big name in the sport, he’d figured it would only help if he added himself to the list of out players.
The more people came forward, the closer they’d get to some kind of normalcy and the more proof fans would have that you didn’t need to be straight to dominate in a sport.
Of course, there were plenty of fans who supported them and tried to drown out the hate, but they could only do so much. Because of the potential fallout from fans, he’d planned to speak to his agent and the team that summer, but it never happened.
Instead of approaching the team about coming out, he retired.
They’d been understanding of his situation and only wanted the best for him.
To this day, rumors swirled about why he retired.
People had speculated about his sexuality practically since he was drafted.
He was so quiet and was never seen dating anyone, so people wondered why.
Some even suggested the possibility the Inferno cut his contract for being gay.
Both his agent and the team released a statement saying they were separating on good terms and Tobias was retiring to spend more time with his family, with no ill will toward the organization.
But people still believed what they wanted.
Since his retirement, he’d done everything he could to move on, but part of him missed being on the ice.
Tobias gave Madison another squeeze as she continued talking about everything she wanted to do that day. When she mentioned working on some bracelets, he jumped at the chance for his own version of therapy.
“Maddie, do you wanna work on your bracelets while I work on a scarf for Gigi?”
“Okay, Oby,” she said as she planted a kiss on his cheek.
He walked to the kitchen with Madison still in his arms. His mother sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. He dropped Madison in her favorite chair and walked around the table to place a kiss on his mom’s head.
At sixty, Grace maintained her good looks and her statuesque figure, her hair now completely silver, and her eyes as keen as ever. She looked at him and must have seen the tumultuousness of his thoughts behind his gaze because hers narrowed in concern.
“You okay today?”
He nodded and muttered, “Gotta knit,” and his mom smiled sympathetically in understanding.
When he was a teenager, his gram taught him how to work the needles, and it was exactly what he needed to keep from spiraling.
He’d tried fidget toys to keep his hands busy and calm himself, but he got annoyed by the pointlessness of it. He wasn’t actually doing anything.
Knitting slowed his racing thoughts because his brain had something else to focus on, while also keeping his hands busy. And when he was done he’d end up with a hat or scarf. Now that his meditative activity resulted in an article of clothing, he didn’t regret using the time to think.
Tobias admitted the logic wasn’t perfect, but it worked for him, and that was what mattered. The activity had helped him keep his focus on and off the ice, and it likely helped him get to the NHL in the first place.
It was like a habit he couldn’t break, and he didn’t want to.
Over the years, he’d knitted something for everyone and everything.
By the time he retired, every single person who worked in the Philly Inferno organization, from the owner, to the equipment guy, to the custodians, owned something knitted by him, usually hats, blankets or scarves.
He never managed to make friendly conversation with them, but they all appreciated the gesture.
After players noticed the sleeves he made to keep his goalie sticks protected, plus similar coverings for his masks and skates, some teammates requested those, too.
He may not have managed to have a simple conversation with most of them, but he could at least show them he cared.
Now, he had far less people in his life to knit for, so he made monthly donations to clothing drives and shelters in the area.
As he worked the needles, the clicking settling the noise in his head, he tried to organize his thoughts.
Could he get on the ice again? Did he even want to?
He should probably figure that out first. If he didn’t want to, what was the point of stressing about it?