Role Model

by Rachel Reid

  There was silence, and then a soft whoosh of air from her end, like a sigh or a huff of disappointment. But then she said, “Oh, sweetie. Thank you for telling me.”

  Troy sat on his sofa. “I’ve been wanting to, but I was scared.”

  “Your father,” she said, and her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. I already felt so guilty for the way he treated you, and now...” She sniffed. “It must have been a nightmare, hiding this from us.”

  He couldn’t deny it, but he said, “I’m not hiding anymore.”

  “I thought—” She stopped, as if ashamed of what she’d been about to admit.

  “What did you think?” Troy asked gently.

  “I thought you were going to be like Curtis. Every year you seemed to be more and more like him. And you were friends with Dallas Kent, who reminded me so much of Curtis when he was young.”

  Troy grimaced. He hadn’t known his dad when Curtis was young, of course, but he wasn’t surprised to learn he’d been like Dallas.

  “When he left me,” Mom continued, “I worried that I was going to lose you both. That you’d take his side because...” She trailed off and sobbed, and Troy’s eyes welled up.

  “I would never take his side, Mom. I’m sorry I acted like him. It just seemed...safe. I was scared of people finding out I was gay, so I tried to be someone else. Someone he would respect.”

  “I know. I understand now. And I’ve known for years that you aren’t like him at all. Since he and I split up, you’ve been there for me. You’ve been such a good friend to me, which is something I could never say about Curtis.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy now. I’m glad you got away.”

  “So am I. God, I love you so much. I wish I could hug you right now.”

  “Me too. I love you.”

  She sniffed again. “Are you going to tell him?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it. He might find out, though. I’m going to come out publicly, I think.”

  “Oh wow. Like Scott Hunter?”

  “Well,” Troy scoffed. “I’m not going to kiss my boyfriend on live television, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Do you...do you have a boyfriend?” She sounded excited.

  Troy smiled. “I do, actually.”

  “What? Tell me everything about him! Can you send me a photo?”

  So Troy told his mother everything he could think of about Harris. He didn’t stop smiling the entire time he told her about how they’d met and gotten to know each other, about Harris’s ridiculously loud laugh, and his wonderful family.

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” Mom said. “He sounds adorable.”

  “He is. I really like him. You’ll like him too. Here, I’m sending a pic.”

  He texted her one of his favorite photos of Harris. One that he had taken while Harris had been making the apple pie in Troy’s kitchen two weeks ago. He had flour on his shirt, and his hair was a little rumpled, but he was grinning like Troy was the best thing he’d ever seen.

  “I love him!” Mom squealed. “Look at how cute he is! I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy for you, too. We both found nice men.”

  “We did. I’m glad you found yours when you were much younger than I was.”

  “I got lucky. So where are you anyway?”

  “Hawaii. We’re on Kauai.”

  “Shit. It must be the middle of the night there.”

  Mom laughed. “Time has no meaning to me anymore. We’re in a different time zone every week, almost.”

  “Still having fun?”

  “We’re having the best time. I can’t thank you enough for helping us be able to do this. It’s been incredible. You’ll have to do it yourself someday. Maybe after you retire, with your man.”

  Troy flushed a bit, but smiled. The idea of spending his life with Harris was overwhelming and exciting. And probably a bit much to be thinking about this early into the relationship. “Maybe I will. Someday. But right now I have to get to practice, and you should go to bed.”

  “I love you, Troy. And I’m so proud of you.”

  “I love you too. I miss you.”

  “Me too. I’ll see you and Harris soon, okay?”

  Troy loved his mom so much. He should have come out to her years ago. “Okay.”

  He ended the call, and was so excited to get to the arena he almost forgot his coat. He couldn’t wait to tell Harris.

  * * *

  Before Troy got a chance to find Harris at the arena, he got called into Coach Wiebe’s office.

  “Just need to talk to you for a sec, Barrett,” Wiebe said. He looked anxious, but not angry. Troy had no idea what this would be about.

  “What’s up?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage.

  Wiebe nodded at one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Shit. This couldn’t be good.

  “I just had a meeting with management. Apparently you’ve upset Commissioner Crowell.”

  Troy’s stomach dropped. God, he was about to be suspended. Or tossed down to the AHL. Or worse. “I wasn’t trying to,” he said.

  Coach smiled wearily. “It doesn’t take much, I don’t think.”

  Troy relaxed a bit. It seemed his coach was on his side.

  “I’m supposed to discipline you. To be honest this whole thing makes all of us very uncomfortable: the GM, the owners. Everyone.”

  Troy swallowed. He had no idea what to say. Was he supposed to apologize? Defend himself? He’d known, when he’d decided to start posting about sexual assault again, that he was going against the commissioner’s instructions. He’d expected some sort of backlash, so he should be able to face it now that it had come.

  “I’m sorry if I made your job harder,” Troy said carefully, “but I don’t regret using my voice to address something important.”

  Coach raised his eyebrows. “It’s not you who’s making us uncomfortable, Troy. We agree with you. Even the owners have said they’re impressed with what you’re doing. We want our players to be good role models, and to contribute to the community. It’s Crowell who’s causing us problems.”

  Wow. Troy had not been expecting any of that. His throat felt tight. After coming out to Mom less than an hour ago, and now receiving this unwavering support from his employers, he was a little overwhelmed. “Oh,” he said.

  “To be honest, Crowell kind of has it out for this team. He hates that we don’t draw big crowds, and it’s no secret that he wants to move us to a larger American market.”

  “We’ve been getting bigger crowds lately,” Troy said, as if that would be reason enough to change Crowell’s mind.

  Coach smiled. “That’s what happens when you’re on fire.” His smile faded. “Crowell’s on a warpath, though. He really doesn’t like you.”

  Troy shifted in his chair. “I got that impression.”

  “He’s not a fan of Rozanov either. Or me.”

  “Really? Why? Rozanov is one of the biggest stars in the league. He’s one of the most entertaining players to watch ever.”

  “Yep. And then he voluntarily went to the smallest market team in the NHL.”

  Ah. Right. “Okay. Why doesn’t he like you?”

  “When I used to play, I filed a few complaints against one of my coaches for using slurs and generally being an abusive prick. He was bullying some of the rookies in particular. I didn’t like it.”

  Troy’s mouth fell open. “I had no idea.”

  “Because the complaints never saw the light of day. The league remembers, though, and I heard Crowell was pissed when I got this coaching job. I think I was hired just to spite him.”

  Troy shook his head. “No way. You’re a great coach.”

  Wiebe leaned back in h
is chair, smiling. “Well, there is that franchise-record win streak.”

  “Did anything happen to that coach?”

  Wiebe’s smile tightened. “Sure. He’s in the Hall of Fame now.”

  Troy’s heart sank. “Oh.”

  Coach shrugged. “I don’t regret trying. It’s hard to change anything in this league, though. Anyone who tries tends to get squashed.” He leaned forward. “So here’s what we’re going to do, Troy.”

  Troy braced himself. He could withstand whatever the punishment was, he told himself. Especially since he knew the Centaurs organization was on his side.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Coach finished. “We’re going to keep winning, and you can post whatever you want, and Crowell can get stuffed. Everyone in management agrees: he can’t really do anything. If he does, we’ll back you up and he’ll look like a monster. Stalemate, I’d say.”

  It sounded risky to Troy, but he was still thrilled. “Seriously?”

  “Dead serious. Now go get your gear on.”

  Troy stood up. “Thanks. And, um, I really like playing here. I know it probably didn’t seem like it for a long time, but I’m glad I’m here.”

  “I thought you might be,” Coach said. He put his head down and began scribbling some notes on a lined pad of paper. “Oh, and you should probably disclose your relationship with Harris to management.”

  Troy froze halfway to the door. “What?”

  Coach glanced up, smiling. “I saw you smooching in his office last week.”

  Jesus, had Troy really been that sloppy? Had he really kissed Harris with the door open? He felt like he might combust. “I, uh—we were—um—”

  Coach chuckled. “I’m happy for you. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Thank you,” Troy said. Oh god, he really was going to cry if he didn’t get out of there. This day was too much.

  He left the office in a daze. There wouldn’t be time to find Harris before practice now, but he was certainly racking up a long list of things to kiss him about.

  * * *

  “Holy smokes!” Wyatt yelled. “When did Chiron turn into an actual horse?”

  Harris grinned at the team puppy, who had grown into a decently large dog, and was looking like he might end up around the size of a Bernese mountain dog. “He did some growing over the past month, that’s for sure.”

  “No shit.” Wyatt took a knee on the dressing room floor, still wearing his giant leg pads. “Let me get some pets in before Rozanov sees—”

  Wyatt was cut off by a banshee scream coming from Ilya’s stall. “What the fuck, Harris? Why is he huge?”

  “Dogs grow, Roz.”

  Ilya had already crossed the room and was kneeling next to Wyatt, bumping the goalie out of the way. “Chiron! You are such a big boy now! You are like two Chirons!” He thoroughly scratched the happy dog’s ears and neck.

  While Ilya and Wyatt warred for Chiron’s affection, Harris glanced at Troy’s empty stall. He’d told Harris last night that he was planning to come out to his mom today, but Harris hadn’t heard from him since. “Was Troy not here today?”

  Ilya didn’t look up from Chiron. “He is here somewhere. Showers probably.”

  Well. Harris should probably wait then.

  “Chiron got some bad news this week,” Harris said. “I mean, maybe he’s not too sad about it.”

  Ilya’s head shot up, his eyes wide and horrified. “What news? What is wrong?”

  “Turns out he’s not therapy dog material. At least according to the trainers.”

  “Impossible,” Ilya said.

  “Aw.” Wyatt rubbed Chiron’s back. “We love you anyway, buddy. I sucked at school too.”

  “What will happen to him?” Ilya asked.

  Harris couldn’t help but smile at Ilya’s concern. “Nothing bad. He’s still going to be the official team dog, but he’ll need a home away from the arena.”

  “You will adopt him.” Ilya didn’t make it sound like a suggestion.

  Harris let out a startled laugh. “Well, maybe. I mean, I was thinking maybe that would be a good idea. Then I could bring him to work with me and you guys could see him all the time.” And, Harris added privately, Troy would get to cuddle him at home, and join Harris on walks with him, and maybe one day they’d get a house in the country with a big yard...

  He’d gotten way ahead of himself with his fantasizing when he’d first learned about Chiron not making the therapy dog cut. For now, he had to be realistic about his small apartment and this very large dog, but he’d probably be able to bring Chiron to work every day, and he could bring him out to the farm all the time, if he got along well with the other dogs. And he’d bet Ilya wouldn’t mind having Chiron hang out at his giant house sometimes.

  Ilya smiled at Chiron. “You are going to be the happiest dog ever.”

  Harris would make sure of it.

  At that moment, Troy emerged from a back room, but he was still wearing some of his gear. Not much of it. Just a few select pieces that, combined with Troy’s exposed skin and sweat-slicked muscles, basically made him a walking fantasy.

  He was wearing his jock and garters, but the socks and shin guards had been removed, leaving his muscular legs bare. His skin-tight performance T-shirt was rucked up just above his belly button, and he still had his elbow pads on, which was weird, but Harris was extremely into it.

  “Troy.” Harris realized he’d said the name as if Troy was a magical being who he had only before seen in dreams. He forced himself to snap out of it. “Hi.”

  “Hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Harris could not stop staring. He knew it. And he knew Troy, Ilya, and Wyatt probably noticed. But he could not. Stop. Staring.

  “Um,” Troy said. He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “Are you, uh...” He glanced down. “Oh. You brought Chiron.”

  “Harris is Chiron’s new dad,” Ilya said.

  “What do you mean?” Troy asked.

  “Um.” Harris had planned to surprise Troy with this announcement later but, well, Ilya. “I think I might adopt Chiron. He’s not going to be a therapy dog, but he’s still the team dog, and, uh...” Jesus, Troy looked like an amalgam of Harris’s entire jock fantasy porn playlist.

  “He’s big now,” Troy said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Then Troy smiled at him, seeming to notice the effect his appearance was having on Harris. He nodded in the direction of his stall, then walked toward it. Harris followed helplessly.

  Troy’s garter straps were hanging loose and bouncing off his massive thighs as he walked. He had fancy athletic underwear on under the jock that looked like little black booty shorts. They clung to every inch of his ass, showing off the ripple of his muscles.

  When they got to his stall, Troy said, “You’re really adopting Chiron? That’s awesome.”

  “I thought you’d like that.” Harris stepped close, and fought the urge to put his hands on Troy’s chest. “This is completely unfair,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “This!” Harris waved a hand over Troy’s body. “Tell me you have a spare jock at home.”

  Troy smiled wickedly. “Why? You got a fetish for hockey gear?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Harris said it like it was obvious. “Like, you have no idea. Look!” He gestured toward the bulge that had appeared in his jeans.

  Troy looked, and when he met Harris’s gaze again, his eyes were dark and full of heat. “This is interesting.”

  Harris felt hot everywhere. “It’s just a fantasy or whatever. You don’t have to make a big deal about it.”

  Troy’s gaze dropped back to Harris’s crotch. “Looks like I already did.”

  “Oh fuck.” Harris shook his head. “Nope. Okay. We’ve got serious stuff to discuss.”


  Troy’s eyes lost some of their heat. “We do.”

  “How’d it go with your mom?”

  “Amazing. She was super supportive and great.”

  Harris beamed, and nearly kissed him right there in the locker room. “That’s awesome!”

  “Yeah. And when I got here, Coach called me into his office to tell me that Crowell is mad that I’m posting again.”

  Harris rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck. Are you serious?”

  “But listen, Coach said management supports me. And so does he. They aren’t going to do anything to discipline me, even though Crowell asked them to.”

  God, Harris loved this team. “I’m not surprised. I told you we only have good people here. Sounds like you got a lot of love today.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a little more,” Troy said seductively. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh! And Coach knows about us! He caught us, uh, smooching, as he put it, in your office.”

  Whoops. “Shit, Troy. Sorry. Are you okay?”

  Troy nodded. “I’m okay. I feel great, actually. I think I might come out to the team. Like, maybe right now?”

  “Right now? Here?”

  “Yeah. What do you think?”

  “It’s okay with me, but are you sure you—”

  But Troy had already stepped up to stand on the bench in his stall.

  “Hey, everyone,” he announced loudly.

  The room got slightly quieter. Then Ilya said, “Everyone shut up and listen to Barrett,” and the room went silent.

  “Just one thing,” Troy said. His voice was surprisingly steady. “I’m dating Harris. We’re together. I’m gay.”

  Well, it wasn’t poetry. But it still made Harris’s eyes fill with tears.

  There was another seemingly endless moment of silence, and then there was applause. And whistling. And cheering.

  Troy slumped back against the wall, as if he couldn’t believe he had just done that. He stared wide-eyed at his teammates until a wide, elated smile stretched across his face.

  “I’d like that to stay in this room for now,” Troy said, still smiling. “Please. Okay. Thank you.”

  He stepped down, into Harris’s waiting arms. Harris hugged him tight, not caring at all that he was drenched in sweat and smelled like a gym bag. “That was weird. I loved it.”