Page 39

Chapter 39

T he makeup artist's brush feels strange against my skin as lights and cameras get adjusted around me. Twenty-four hours ago, I was sitting in my car in the practice facility parking lot, gathering the courage to call my dad. Now I'm about to come out to the entire hockey world.

"Nervous?" Declan asks quietly as the crew does final checks on the lighting. He's ditched his usual press pass and rumpled journalist look for a proper suit - this is going out live on the network's website and social platforms.

"Surprisingly not." And it's true. After telling my dad, after standing in front of my team... this feels like the natural next step. The PR team worked through the night to set this up, wanting to control the narrative before rumors could spread. Carson's choice of Declan for the interview wasn't random - he's proven himself an ally, someone who refused to out us even when Nathan was shopping the story around.

"Just let me tell my story," I'd told Carson yesterday when we were planning this. "No ambush questions, no speculation about other players. Just... my truth."

My phone buzzes - another text from Jamie. Ready whenever you are, baby. He's in a separate holding room, waiting to join for the second part of the interview. The endearment makes my chest warm, even as the reality of what we're about to do hits me again.

Only a few months ago, when Jamie first walked into our team meeting, I was terrified of even looking at him for too long. Now...

"Two minutes!" someone calls out.

Declan settles into his chair across from me, adjusting his notes. "Remember, we can stop anytime. This isn't a gotcha piece - it's your story to tell."

I nod, thinking about how far I've come since that first press conference with Jamie, when I was so careful to maintain professional distance. When every question felt like a potential trap.

"Thirty seconds!"

My phone buzzes one more time. Jamie again: You've got this. I'm right here.

"And we're live in 5... 4... 3..."

"I'm here with Seattle Sasquatch captain Rylan Collings," Declan starts smoothly, his professional tone carrying none of our earlier familiarity. "Rylan, thank you for choosing to share your story with us today."

"Thanks for having me." My media voice kicks in automatically, but I force myself to soften it. No more perfect captain's mask. That's the whole point.

"You've been captain of the Sasquatch since their inaugural season, led them to a Stanley Cup in that first year. But today you want to talk about something more personal?"

Deep breath. This is it. "Yes. I've spent my entire NHL career - my entire life, really - hiding an important part of who I am. I'm gay."

The words feel different here than they did with my dad, and with the team. More final, maybe. More real.

"That's not an easy thing to share in our world of pro sports," Declan says gently. "What made you decide to come out now?"

I think about Jamie's smile this morning, about my dad's acceptance, about Nick's jersey hanging in my bedroom. "I've had amazing support from the organization, from my teammates. But mostly... I'm tired of hiding. Tired of being half of who I am."

"You lost your brother Nick when you were teenagers." Declan's tone stays gentle. "He was also a hockey player?"

My throat tightens but in a good way. "Yeah. He was... he was incredible. Would have made the show, no question. But more than that, he was always completely himself. Never afraid to be exactly who he was."

"That must have had a profound impact on you."

"It did. After we lost him, and then my mom a year later... it was easier to focus on hockey. On being the perfect son, the responsible captain. To push everything else away." I meet Declan's eyes directly. "But it turns out that's not really living, is it?"

"No," he agrees quietly. "It's not."

"My father's currently in recovery," I continue, the words coming easier. "He's working on himself, and facing a lot of hard truths. And as he's been doing that hard work, I've realized that I need to do the same thing."

"How has the team responded?"

A genuine smile breaks through. "Better than I could have imagined. I know it's a cliche, but those guys are my family. I was worried I could lose them, but I found out there was never a chance of that."

"And the organization?"

"GM Carson Wells, Coach Shaw, and the entire front office have been incredibly supportive. They've known for a while that having an inclusive culture was important - we've got several out players in our system already."

Declan nods. "Including Jamie Pirelli, who joined the team this season."

My heart races at Jamie's name, knowing what's coming next. "Yeah. Actually, about that..."

"Jamie Pirelli made history as the first openly bisexual player drafted into the NHL," Declan says. "I understand he's waiting to join us?"

I can't help smiling. "Yeah, he is."

"Before we bring him out, can you tell us about your initial reaction when you learned he'd been traded to Seattle?"

A small laugh escapes me. "Honestly? I was terrified. Not because of his reputation or anything the media said about his time in Florida. I was scared because..." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "Because from the moment he walked into that first team meeting, I knew he was going to change everything."

"Jamie," Declan calls out, "why don't you join us?"

My heart skips as Jamie walks onto the set. He looks unfairly good in his carefully casual outfit - dark jeans and a soft sweater that makes his eyes impossibly blue. His media smile is firmly in place, but when our eyes meet, it softens into something real.

"Hi," he says simply, settling into the chair next to mine. His hand finds my knee off-camera, grounding me.

"Jamie Pirelli, thank you for joining us," Declan says. "You've been through your own journey with being out in the NHL. How does it feel being on this side of the conversation?"

Jamie's thumb traces circles on my knee as he answers. "It's incredible. When I first came out, I hoped it might make things easier for other players, but I never expected..." He glances at me, his expression soft. "I never expected to find this."

"So you two are...?"

"Together," I finish firmly. "It's new, but it's..." I look at Jamie, seeing all our shared moments reflected in his eyes - that first night in San Diego, the video calls, the careful distance, the final choice to be brave. "It's everything."

"The chemistry between you two on ice has been remarkable this season," Declan observes. "Has your personal connection enhanced that professional dynamic?"

Jamie grins. "He makes me better. On and off the ice."

"Even when I'm driving you crazy with my color-coded sock drawer?" The chirp slips out without thinking.

"Especially then," Jamie says softly, and God, the way he's looking at me...

"The team's recent success - eight wins in your last ten games - suggests they're fully supportive," Declan says. "Was that immediate?"

The timing seems significant," Declan observes. "Coming up on the Christmas break, when the team seems to be finding its rhythm..."

"Look," I say, "we had a rough start to the season. New players, new systems, and high expectations after our struggles the past two years. But these past few weeks, especially heading into the holiday break - we're starting to show what this team can be."

Jamie nods. "Chemistry takes time to develop, both on and off the ice. But when you've got an organization that supports its players, that creates an environment where everyone can be themselves..."

"That's exactly why we wanted to do this interview now," I add. "Clear the air before these rumors could become a distraction. We've got three big games before the Christmas break, and we want the focus to be on hockey."

"We're just scratching the surface of what this team can do," Jamie says, his confidence making my chest warm. "The Cup win three years ago wasn't a fluke. This group has that kind of potential. We just need to keep putting in the work."

"Speaking of potential," Declan shifts slightly, "you two have shown remarkable chemistry since Jamie joined the team in September. Eight goals in your last five games heading into the break..."

"That's just hockey," I say automatically, then catch myself. No more deflecting. "Though I suppose our connection off the ice hasn't hurt."

Jamie's smile turns softer. "It's easier to anticipate someone's moves when you get to know who they are."

"The holiday break starts next week," Declan notes. "Any special plans?"

My mind flashes to Jamie's family coming to Seattle, and his mother's Thanksgiving invitation that led to so much more. "Actually-"

"My family's visiting," Jamie jumps in, his eyes twinkling. "Mom's determined to teach Rylan her secret sugar cookie recipe."

"She thinks my kitchen's too organized," I admit, earning a gentle laugh from both Jamie and Declan. "Says baking should be more... spontaneous."

"The Pirelli family approach to everything," Jamie grins. "Speaking of which, we should probably warn Declan about the New Year's party they're planning..."

"One step at a time," I say, but I'm smiling too. Because that's what this is - steps forward, together. No more hiding, no more deflecting.

"Any message for young players who might be watching this?" Declan asks.

Jamie's hand finds mine properly now, not caring that it's in the frame. "Be yourself," he says simply. "The right team, the right people - they'll love you for exactly who you are."

"And it's worth it," I add softly, thinking of everything these past few months have brought. "Being authentic, being brave... it's terrifying, but it's worth it."

"Final thoughts before we wrap up?" Declan asks.

I look at Jamie, seeing everything we've built reflected in his eyes. "Just... grateful. To the organization, to our teammates, to the fans who've already shown so much support. But mostly..." I squeeze Jamie's hand. "Grateful I don't have to choose between the game I love and the person I love."

Jamie's breath catches at the casual declaration, and I realize what I just said on live television. But you know what? I mean it.

"And we're clear!" someone calls out. The studio energy immediately shifts, crew members moving around, but I'm frozen in place, those words echoing in my head. The person I love.

"Well," Declan says, standing with a knowing smile, "I'd say that was quite successful. Thank you both for trusting me with this."

I manage to nod, but Jamie's thumb hasn't stopped tracing circles on my hand, and I can feel him vibrating with contained energy beside me.

"Take your time," Declan adds quietly. "The studio's booked for another hour. No rush to clear out." Then he's gone, herding the crew toward the door with surprising efficiency.

The moment we're alone, Jamie turns to me. "Did you mean it?"

"I..." My media-polished vocabulary fails me completely when faced with those hopeful blue eyes. "I didn't plan to say it like that. On camera. In front of everyone. But... Yeah. Yeah, I meant it."

His smile could light up the whole damn city. "Good. Because I love you too."

"Even with my color-coded sock drawer?" I try to chirp, but my voice comes out too soft, too raw.

"Especially with your color-coded sock drawer." He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. "I love every ridiculously organized, perfectly controlled, surprisingly soft part of you, Rylan Collings."

"Jamie..."

"You just came out to the entire hockey world," he whispers. "And then casually dropped the L-word on live TV. How are you still so fucking perfect?"

A laugh escapes me. "I'm pretty sure I'm a mess. But maybe..." I squeeze his hand. "Maybe that's okay sometimes."

"It's very okay."