11. Dover
Angry and frustrated, I storm into the men’s bathroom, my footsteps echoing off the tiled floor as I make my way to the nearest stall.
Once inside, I slam the door shut and lock it behind me, seeking a small measure of privacy while I try to regain control over my emotions.
My jaw aches from clenching it so tightly, and I force myself to stop grinding my teeth.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool, sterile air of the restroom, and then slowly exhale, willing the tension in my body to ebb away with the breath.
I know exactly why I’m being singled out, and the realization only fuels my anger further.
The injustice of it is infuriating. Being gay isn’t something I chose, nor is it something that can be changed at will.
It’s simply a part of who I am—an intrinsic aspect of my identity.
This is my life, and I refuse to be ashamed of it.
In fact, I feel incredibly fortunate for the life I lead, despite the challenges.
Achieving my dream of becoming a professional hockey player is something I’ve worked toward for as long as I can remember.
I might only be twenty years old, but signing with the Vikings felt like the culmination of years of dedication and hard work.
The moment I joined the team here in Boston, I sensed that I had found a place where I truly belonged, a home both on and off the ice.
Coming out to my teammates was a monumental step for me.
I had built it up in my mind for so long, and when the moment finally came, I tried to act casual, pretending it was no big deal.
But the truth was, I felt nauseous with anxiety, terrified of how they might react.
To my immense relief, they accepted me without hesitation or judgment, treating me no differently than before.
Their support meant everything to me, and it gave me the confidence to be myself around them.
Still, I don’t go out of my way to advertise my sexuality to everyone.
I’m acutely aware that not all players in the league would be as understanding or supportive—some would undoubtedly be complete assholes about it.
For now, I choose to keep that part of myself guarded, sharing it only with those I trust or at least until now, which wasn’t by choice.
Heading to the locker room, I think about Viktor Tremont—a man who is notorious for his so-called ‘beliefs,’ to put it mildly.
Viktor has a reputation that precedes him, and his views are well-known, even if people tend to avoid discussing them openly.
Honestly, he’s the only person who comes to mind when I try to figure out who might be behind this.
I just can’t imagine being a fan, especially since my being gay only became public knowledge less than twenty-four hours ago.
As I step into the locker room, I quickly realize that I’m the first one to arrive.
The room is quiet, almost eerily so, with only the faint hum of the overhead lights breaking the silence.
I let myself fall back against the door, feeling the cool metal press against my back, and allow my head to thud softly against it.
I stare up at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts about what I’m going to do now that Levi is going to be in my personal space on a regular basis.
The truth is, my attraction to Levi started long before I ever signed with the Vikings.
There was always something about him—an intensity in his eyes, the way he carried himself—that drew me in.
He’s always been unpredictable, sometimes warm and friendly, other times distant and aloof.
I know the age difference between us has always been a sticking point for him, something he can’t quite get past. But I can’t help thinking that age is just a number, and it shouldn’t matter when it comes to how we feel about each other.
I run a hand through my dark, messy hair, trying to steady myself, and finally push away from the door.
I walk over to my cubby and stop in front of it, taking a moment to appreciate the sight.
My name—Hilton—and my number—12—are displayed proudly above my gear.
No matter how many times I see it, it never loses its thrill.
It’s a constant reminder of everything I’ve worked for, all the sacrifices I’ve made since I was a kid just to get to this point.
I’m determined not to let anyone take this away from me, no matter what threats come my way.
I’ve never been the type to back down from a challenge, and I don’t intend to start now.
I keep thinking about the meeting, and I feel a wave of irritation wash over me as I replay the conversation, annoyed with myself for not speaking up more forcefully.
I don't need Levi hovering around me like a shadow. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I should have made that clear to everyone present. The thing that stopped me from refusing protection at home was the thought that if Levi is in my personal space all the time, he will finally accept that we are meant to be together or at least give what’s between us a go.
Part of my frustration stems from the fact that I was caught off guard by the intensity of the hostility directed at me.
While, in some ways, I had anticipated being singled out or targeted, actually experiencing such blatant animosity was still jarring.
The shock of it left me momentarily speechless, and I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably as the reality of the situation set in.
Even now, a lingering sense of unease remains, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
Suddenly, the groaning creak of the door opening snaps me out of my thoughts.
Instinctively, my eyes dart in that direction, and I watch as Levi steps into the locker room.
His gaze immediately finds mine, and he doesn’t look away as he makes his way across the space to sit down opposite me at Richardson’s cubby.
I study him closely, and my eyes narrow when I notice a fleeting wince cross his face—one he probably hopes I didn’t catch.
“You shouldn’t be back at work,” I say, unable to keep the concern out of my voice.
Levi responds with a dark glare, clearly not appreciating my comment, but I hold his gaze steadily.
“Are you absolutely sure you don’t have any idea who might be writing those threatening letters?” He presses, his tone serious as I feel the intensity of his gaze on my face.
“I don’t know who. There are one or two players that come to mind.” I shrug. “This sucks.”
My eyes widen as Levi moves to stand directly in front of me. He searches my gaze and says, “While I’m on protection duty, things have to stay platonic.”
I pause for a moment, allowing the weight of what’s just been said to settle over me.
The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, before I let out a laugh devoid of any real humor.
“You’re serious?” I say, my voice edged with disbelief and frustration.
“That’s just another excuse for you to back away, isn’t it?
” I shake my head in exasperation, feeling a surge of anger and disappointment as I put some distance between myself and the asshole standing in front of me.
“I’m done with this, Dodge,” I continue, my tone resolute and final.
“I’m not going to keep playing this game.
You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, not just once, but multiple times.
So congratulations—you’ve gotten what you wanted.
It’s over before it even had a chance to begin.
” I let out a shaky breath, trying to steady myself as I process the situation.
After a moment, I force myself to focus on the practicalities. “Alright, then,” I say, my voice quieter but no less firm. “If you’re so set on this protection thing, what exactly does it involve? What does this protection actually mean for me?”
Dodge visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes anxiously scan my face.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” he says, his voice steady but laced with a fierce determination.
He pauses for a moment, locking his gaze with mine, as if to make sure I truly comprehend the weight of his promise.
“Or die trying,” he adds, his words hanging heavily in the air between us.
Without waiting for a response, Dodge abruptly turns on his heel and strides out of the room, the force of his exit punctuated by the loud slam of the door behind him.
I wince sharply, the pain and frustration twisting inside me.
My body feels weighted, every muscle tense with emotion.
I close my eyes tightly, trying to shut out the world, but instead I find myself fighting back tears that threaten to spill over.
What the hell is wrong with me? The question echoes in my mind, raw and desperate, as I press my finger and thumb hard into the corners of my eyes, willing myself to get under control, to not fall apart right here.
The man has me so fucking mixed up it isn’t even funny.
My thoughts are tangled and my emotions are a mess, all because of him.
With a low, frustrated growl, I shove myself up from my cubby and stride out of the locker room, unable to sit still any longer.
I can’t breathe in here—I need a run or some kind of release, anything to clear my head and get some distance from the chaos swirling inside me.
I jab at the elevator button and step inside when the doors open, leaning against the cool metal wall as it ascends.
When I step out, the hallway stretches ahead, fluorescent lights humming above and the occasional person drifting past, each absorbed in their own day, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
As I move forward, I spot Nash coming toward me.
He takes one look at my face—at the turmoil I can’t quite hide—and stops dead in his tracks, concern flickering in his eyes.
My voice comes out rough, thick with emotion I can barely control.
“Get me out of here,” I manage to say, the words scraping out of my throat.
Without hesitation, he nods. “Let’s go.” He reaches for my arm, steady and reassuring, and steers me firmly toward the exit, guiding me away from the suffocating walls and the people who might see me break.