Chapter Thirty-Three #2
“Always has been. Watch the cross-ice pass. That’s his setup.”
Sel nods.
The period ends scoreless, but we have the momentum with eleven shots on goal to Philly’s seven.
Sel
The second period starts with Philly throwing everything at us. The hits get heavier as desperation creeps into their team. Their coach leans over the boards barking instructions, and I swear I can taste their frustration.
The Philly Titans want this.
But we want it more.
A scramble erupts in front of our net as bodies crash and sticks hack at a loose puck. Finn takes an elbow to the ribs, but he doesn’t go down. Instead, he muscles his way through and clears the crease. I’m already on their winger, boxing him out, making sure Sorensen has clean sight lines.
“Nice,” Finn says as he skates past.
I tap my stick against the ice. No need for words when we both know what it takes.
Then our top line strikes, a perfect sequence that has the arena on its feet. Cross-ice pass, one-timer, and bar down for Makela. 1–0 Rush. Finn and I bump gloves at the bench and I don’t miss the flash of competitive fire in his eyes.
“We keep this up, they won’t get a single one.”
Finn nods. “That’s the plan.”
But Philly isn’t done. A questionable tripping call puts them on a power play, and I watch Finn skate to the sin bin, his jaw tight with frustration. I tap my stick on the ice as I line up for the faceoff.
We’ve got this. Stay focused.
Philly’s setup is textbook. They overload on one side, and look for the seam pass. I read it, keeping my position between the shooter and Sorensen, and disrupt every passing lane I can reach. When Jace winds up, I don’t hesitate. The puck cracks off my shin pad hard enough to rattle my teeth.
Worth it.
The second the penalty expires, Finn’s out of the bin, skating hard to my side.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” I keep my voice level, focused. “Titans are beyond frustrated, so watch out.”
And they are. I can see it in their body language, the way they’re forcing plays.
Jace tries to thread a pass—high risk, high reward—and my stick is already moving.
Clean interception and suddenly we’re transitioning the other way.
Finn takes my pass, chips it beautifully past the defender, and Berg’s off on a breakaway.
The shot goes wide, but Philly gets our message, loud and clear.
Finn
Intermission hits, and after we hydrate, Range and Laflore give us the wind-up talk we need for the final period. Every player on our team is practically frothing at the mouth to get back out there and lock in this win.
Most of the third goes like the first: no one scores, but plenty of battles are fought all the same.
With three minutes left, Philly pulls their goalie, and suddenly six skaters swarm our zone.
Between the fans screaming and my heart pounding, I’m ramped up and ready.
I block a shot and Sel’s there to clear the rebound.
We’re on the mark, working in tandem, and our rhythm doesn’t let up.
I swear it’s not just training, it’s our psychic bond, something I’ve never had with any other person, never mind a player.
“Thirty seconds!” someone shouts.
Jace has the puck at the half-wall, and I know that look, the way his weight shifts, the angle of his shoulders. He’s about to try something creative, something that used to work when we were on the same team.
Not tonight.
Jace fakes the shot and tries to slip a pass across the crease. Sel’s stick flashes out, pokes, and the puck is loose.
I’m moving it now, corralling it, sending it up the boards to Makela. He picks up the puck so fast that no one can catch him, and when he takes his shot, it hits the back of the empty net.
Score!
2–0 Rush.
Sel
The boom of the crowd hits like a physical wave, rolling down from the upper deck until the entire arena is shaking. Those of us on the ice are hollering and celebrating, and soon, the rest of the bench joins us.
Finn reaches out and taps my helmet.
“Incredible!” he mouths.
I can’t hear Finn’s voice because of the chaos around us, but I smile and tap back.
We don’t line up for handshakes in this game, but most of us skate around and chat with the Titans.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jace and Finn hugging and having their own conversation.
I don’t know what Finn’s saying to his friend, but he’s so excited he lights up the entire arena.
Jace says something that makes Finn laugh, and they turn and wave me over.
When I reach them, I offer my hand to Jace.
“Good game, Rowland.”
“Not as good as you,” he teases. “Come on, hug it out.”
He pulls me in and slaps my back.
“Finn told me,” Jace murmurs. “You do right by him, Kirkland.”
I lean back and nod.
“Always.”
I glance up at the corporate seats to locate our family. Of course they’re the noisiest box. My mom’s singing and dancing in celebration, Will’s busting out the vocals too, and Axel is busy showing off Jace’s Philly jersey to the cameras. Damien’s up there too, but I don’t see Silas.
“Guys, let’s go!” Laflore yells.
The team finally heads for the boards and heads down the chute, where reporters are lined up and waiting. Makela and Berg get cornered first so they can talk about their respective goals, then it’s Sorensen’s turn.
“Kirkland! Baran!”
Here we go…
I feel Finn shift closer to me, our shoulders touching. The reporter closest to us leans in, shoving a mic in front of our faces.
“Sel, the Rush’s defensive lineup was on fire tonight. What’s the secret to your on-ice chemistry?”
I look at Finn and he catches my gaze. For the first time, we don’t look away.
“We trust each other.”
It's the simplest truth I know.
The press room is crammed, with reporters and cameras shoved into every available space. Range is here, as well as Berg, but only on the sidelines. Hugo’s organizing the chaos, but when he announces that it’s just me and Finn on the docket, the room buzzes with curiosity.
The media always want more.
They have no idea how much they’re about to get....
I take a seat at the table, Finn beside me.
Resting his elbows on the table, he reaches up to cover his mouth with his hand and leans over.
“You got this, baby.”
I mirror his movements.
“We’ve got this, sweetheart.”
Hugo gives the signal, and the questions start in a predictable way: What does it feel like to shut down one of the league’s top offenses?
I answer on autopilot, and then it’s over to Finn for his viewpoint.
My heartbeat hitches, but the longer I sit, the more confident I am in my decision.
Six months ago, I was running, I couldn’t do this.
I was devastated, scared. Six months ago, I asked for a trade to protect myself.
Maybe I should’ve pushed for an investigation, but I wasn’t ready for one.
But I’m not that person anymore. I have Finn. I have a team that has my back.
I found my voice again.
Leaning forward, I wait for a lull in the chatter.
“I have a personal announcement to make,” I state, my voice cutting through the murmur of follow-up questions.
The room senses the shift and quiets.
“Six months ago, shortly after I came out and while I was still with Chicago, I was subjected to a hostile work environment and worse, threatened by someone on the team. I reported all this to my agent and the organization. For my safety, I requested a trade, and the Bandits agreed.”
I pause, let that sink in.
“At the time, I didn’t have the will to fight back.
I was concerned for my health, and I needed to get out.
But I’m in a different place now, and I’m ready to hold them accountable.
What happened was wrong, the organization’s failure to act was wrong, and I won’t be silent about it anymore.
In addition, at our game against the Bandits in December, I was the recipient of homophobic slurs and hate speech from one particular player.
All this to say, I’m filing a civil lawsuit against the Chicago Bandits and my former teammate, Eric Donaldson. ”
Flashes go off and reporters shout.
I don’t flinch.
“Before I take any questions about my statement, my teammate has something to say.”
Finn
My pulse is hammering, but my hands are steady as I lean into the mic. I’m bolstered by my boyfriend’s courage. After everything he’s been through. Now it’s my turn to walk through those doors.
“I also have a personal announcement,” I start.
All those cameras and all those eyes focus on me. There’s so much on the line and I don’t want to fuck this up.
“Sel’s not the only queer player represented in this league or this team. I’m bisexual.”
The words land like a slapshot and there’s no taking them back. The room goes still for half a heartbeat, then erupts again. More flashes, more questions, but I keep going because I’m not done.