Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Putting my phone back in my bedroom, I grab the basket of laundry, dirty sheets first. Then I down another coffee, clean up the pans in the sink, and throw in another load of wash.
After all the household stuff is done, I grab a yoga mat from my bedroom closet and sit in front of the window to meditate.
It’s something my brother Karson encourages, but I’m not sure I’ve got the hang of it yet.
Me sitting still? Nope, not my normal. My brain quiet and calm?
No to that too. I do what I can for twenty minutes, but I’m still edgy and I know what I need.
Finn should be done at the gym by now, so it’s time to try my usual way to blow off stress.
The usual, not my favorite.
After changing into my workout gear and grabbing my water bottle, I hop onto the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor.
For a condo gym this place is huge, and I spot a couple of residents I don’t recognize.
No sign of Finn. Good. Sort of. Okay, I’m disappointed and relieved in the same breath.
I start on the treadmill with a light run, then move to mobility work.
Then come box jumps and lateral bounds, followed by squats, lunges, and planks.
By the time I reach the end of my routine, I’ve got a good sweat going, and I gulp down half my water.
I’m better, but still unsettled. No amount of preparation will make facing tomorrow any easier, but I’m trying.
Slipping on my headphones, I blast the music as loud as I can to tune out the swirling thoughts in my head. On my way out of the gym, I pass people in the hallway and in the elevator, but I keep to myself, not offering a nod or even a look.
Back at my place, I shower, heat up one of my high-protein, high-carb meals and eat while watching Chicago’s most recent game.
Yep, I recorded it so I could study how they’re playing this season.
Philadelphia outscored them, and it’s clear that Chicago’s defense isn’t doing its job.
I should be gloating but instead, I feel nothing but sadness.
I watch and rewatch my old teammates, and it’s weird.
My gut’s churning—should have waited to eat until afterwards—but I force myself to study them and I make notes as I go along.
This is what players do before facing any team, but this one I have special insight on.
Maybe I can use that as an excuse to contact Range?
Searching my phone, I tap his number. He replies on the first ring.
“Jordan Range speaking.”
“Hey, Coach, it’s Kirkland. You have a minute to talk?”
“Of course.”
“I viewed the tape of Chicago’s last game against Toronto, and I thought I could share my insights with you given my history.”
“Definitely. We need every advantage we can get.”
After giving Range my opinions about the plays and the players, I pause.
“Great stuff. Is there anything else?” Range asks.
“Yeah. I’m sure you know that my coming out didn’t go well and that was the reason for the trade.”
“You didn’t say it directly, but yes, I assumed, given how long you were there and the fact that you left during training.”
I take a deep breath.
“It went far beyond the cold shoulder. It ended badly, so it’s fair to say I was worried about my safety then and I’m worried about my safety tomorrow. Our guys should be prepared.”
“Shit, I’m sorry you had to endure that. I was planning to say something anyway, since facing your old crew for the first time can be tense, but I’ll tell everyone to be on their guard.”
“I know my old teammates are going to come after me because according to them, queers don’t belong in this sport.”
“Jesus Christ,” Range hisses. “What rock are they living under? Have they not been paying attention to the Women’s Pro Hockey League? Several players are out, hell, some are married to each other, and no one has an issue.”
“Do you think the WPHL would let me play with them?” I quip.
“We’re not letting go of our best defenseman,” Range replies with conviction.
“Plus, I can’t stand that old-style hockey bullshit about no queer players and women don’t belong in the sport or on staff.
You know, I championed for Laflore as my assistant because she’s one of the best players I’ve ever witnessed and she knows her stuff.
Management had concerns, but I didn’t budge. ”
“Marley’s great,” I agree.
“I trust her completely,” he replies. “But back to you. Players are paid to play, not have an opinion on a colleague’s personal life.”
“Tell that to Brady and St. Clare. Well, mainly Brady because he’s the one always making underhanded comments.”
“We’re monitoring him for a variety of reasons.”
Range doesn’t say anything more, but a part of me feels calmer.
“I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk tomorrow,” he insists. “The Rush team has your back, Sel.”
Thankfully I’m on the phone and not talking to him in person because fuck, I’m getting emotional again, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Thanks, Coach. See you then.”
I tap “end call” and scroll through my texts, including one from my mom.
Mom: I know tomorrow will be a hard day for you, kleine wolf, but you are brave. I love you and I’m so proud, but also, when are you getting me tickets for a NY game?? I’d like to be there before the end of the season, yes? Also, send me a Rush jersey so I can show it off.
Sel: Not sure that’s the best idea.
Mom: But Rush are treating you right, yes?
Sel: Yes, but I’m worried about you. How some fans might react. Most seem supportive or don’t care, but there are always haters.
Mom: Fuck them. I raised three teenage boys on my own, so I can handle homophobic assholes NP.
I laugh, because she’s funny and fierce, and she’s right.
Sel: Okay, in the new year?
Mom: Good. I remind you. Love you, talk soon
The next message is from Taylor about a future meetup. After this last appearance, I’m done. We’ve received positive press from the entertainment media, so Hugo can leave me alone. I send a quick “I’ll get back to you” reply to Taylor and then consider when and how to approach Hugo.
Glancing at the time, I can’t believe it’s already evening. It feels like days since I saw Finn, not hours, and letting my heart lead my head, I video call him.
His beautiful face pops up. ““Hey, Wolfie. Finally.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”
“No shit. My hand was itching to call you first.” That telltale pink flush stains his cheekbones as he bites his lower lip. “Look at us.”
I nod.
“I know.”
We’re fools. Both of us.
“So, what’s up?”
“I chatted with Damien, and he thinks I should I warn Miki about us—I mean about being involved with a teammate. Just in case anyone finds out our secret before we’re ready to share it, so he’s, you know, prepared.
I trust Mik implicitly, but I don’t need to give him your name.
I could simply tell him it’s another player and leave it at that. It’s your decision.”
“He reps both of us, so if you trust him, so do I.”
“Are you sure?”
Finn leans forward and those gorgeous eyes capture my attention.
“Tell him.”
I’m too stunned for a moment to speak.
“The whole truth?” I whisper.
Finn nods. “And nothing but.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“What about Hugo?”
“What about him?”
“Should we also give him a heads-up?”
Finn shakes his head. “That one I need to think about. I know he’ll be pissed either way, but let’s see what Miki says first.”
“Okay, I’m gonna call Mik now. Or we can call him together?”
“You talk to him first and then we can have a follow-up.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I release a shaky breath. “I’ll do it now so I can relax this evening. Or as much as I can.”
“Call me later?”
“Nine?”
Finn licks his lip.
“I’ll be waiting.”
He offers me a wink before his face disappears from my screen, and man, I’m such a sap. I miss him already. Casual Kirkland has left the building and I’m not sure if he’s ever coming back. There’s still a nagging fear that lingers, but I’m ready for this convo, I’m prepared.
The second I call Miki my ability to remain calm shatters. When he answers, I blurt everything out.
“I have something important to tell you, but this stays between us and only us,” I say immediately. “Okay?”
“Of course.”
“I’m involved with another NHL player.”
A long pause doesn’t mean good things.
“Involved as in, you’re fucking another player?” he hisses.
I want to say it’s more than fucking, but I don’t.
“Yes, and there’s another issue.” I close my eyes. “He’s a teammate.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Miki yells. “What the hell? Are you out of your—”
I pull the phone away from my ear and wait until the loud swearing stops.
“Don’t, Mik. The last thing I need right now is a lecture. I talked to him before I called you and he’s okay with you knowing. But only you because we have a level of trust that goes beyond hockey contracts. He’s not out. He’s not ready. Yet. Or maybe ever. I don’t know.”
Miki sighs.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” he says calmly.
“It’s one of your new clients. It’s Finn.”
“Baran? The rookie?” he whispers. “Holy fuck.”
“We’re only telling you because we need a plan in case someone finds out and goes to the press before we do. Not that we’ll probably need a plan because we’re being careful. And you know, this is me. I’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend so it’s highly doubtful that this will last anyway.”
Every time I say that it makes me nauseous. Maybe it’s crazy, but I want me and Finn to last. I’m also a realist. Finn’s risking a lot and I’m not sure I’m worth it.
“Why tell me all this if you think it’ll be over soon?”
“Because you never know. You’ve seen all the ‘bromance’ coverage about us.”
“Your chemistry on the ice is obvious. But I didn’t realize it crossed over.”
“Like I said, this whole thing may never be an issue. Finn and I might be done sooner rather than later and then no one needs to know.” My stomach flips over. “We can forget about it.”
I hate lying to Miki, to anyone, but worst of all, to myself.