Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Andry

Things shift between me and my little genius after the photoshoot. It’s like he’s finally letting go of the worry he’s kept hold of about his tormentors coming after him.

There haven’t been any incidents this week either. It’s a nice break from being on alert.

Granted, I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

The morning the photos we took hit social media, shit goes crazy. Suddenly, I’m even more popular. People approach me with congratulations and pats on the back to tell me they’re cool with me coming out.

It’s fucking weird.

To make it worse, I’m not the only one dealing with it. Rodney is also being stopped left and right as people recognize him. His texts come throughout the day, each more amused than the one before it.

Rodney: Someone just gave me a fist bump.

Rodney: I’ve known them for four years, and they’ve never spoken to me. It’s strange.

Rodney: This guy in my class sat beside me for the first time ever. He chatted me up about hockey. I think he’s a fan.

Rodney: The girls are even talking to me. They got the fact that I’m gay, right? That was obvious with the kiss shot.

Rodney: BTW we are so cute together.

Rodney: Aries says he’s getting us life-size cutouts of the kiss pose for our future house. He’s insane.

Rodney: Am I bothering you? I feel like I’m rambling too much.

It’s only after that last message that I finally send him something back. I tend to forget to reply because I enjoy seeing what he has to say more than responding.

Andry: You’re not rambling too much. I enjoy hearing what you have to say. I love being the person you trust with these thoughts.

He sends me back a string of heart emojis. I take that to mean he’s happy with my reply as I head into the arena for today’s practice.

Coach waves at me from his office when I pass by the door. He’s on a call, though from the look in his eyes, he intends to find me later. I can only imagine what for.

The locker room is full of noise as I step up to the door. When I step inside, it quiets immediately.

I raise my brow, though I don’t ask questions. There’s no doubt in my mind they saw the photos. If the blank looks weren’t clue enough, then the sneers from Liam would tell me the truth of things.

“Can’t believe he was kissing the nerd like that for everyone to see,” someone says. I don’t turn to find out who.

Someone else replies with, “Fucking disgusting. Gay shit like that shouldn’t be forced on us.”

I roll my eyes as I strip my clothes to get on my practice gear. It’s only when I hear a certain slur that I feel my blood boil.

Nope. Not fucking happening.

Dropping my jersey, I spin to face the hecklers. “You got something you want to say?”

They don’t even pretend to deny they’re talking shit about me and my boy. Instead, they laugh as they make their way closer to me.

Wrong fucking move, idiots.

“We were just talking about your pictures. You set that shit up? Have to pay those guys to do that disgusting stuff on camera?” Liam taunts.

I shake my head. “I didn’t pay anyone. And if you want the truth, Aries Merry is the one who set it all up. He invited me to practice, then the cameras showed. We wound up playing a game together.”

“Oh, shit! He got ice time with Brutal Bishop!” That comes from one of the guys standing behind Liam.

He turns to give them a glare. I ignore the look, a smirk blooming.

“Yeah, I did. We’re hanging out later this week too. There’s a party planned. I’ve been told I have an open invitation into their locker room too. The Bears are inclusive like that.”

Liam spits toward my feet. He opens his mouth to throw out some other type of bullshit when a loud whistle cuts through the room.

We turn to find Coach frowning at us all. “Break this shit up. What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing, Coach,” Liam answers as I reply at the same time with, “They’re pissed about the photos.”

He nods. “I can imagine some jealousy over Andry getting ice time with those guys might be too much for some of you to handle. I can’t imagine any other reason you’d feel the need to comment on those photos.”

Several of the guys duck their heads. It’s obvious they don’t like being called out for their homophobic bullying.

“They all wanted to talk about the kiss,” I hear from one of the other players not in the circle in front of me. He pushes his way forward until he’s at the front. I recognize him as Dretti, the guy I noticed on my first day who I thought I’d grow close to. That didn’t happen because I got all wrapped up in Rodney.

He continues on, telling everyone, “They were being assholes about everything being too gay for them. It was phobic as fuck, Coach.”

The man before us straightens to his full height. “If anyone has a problem with there being ‘gay shit’ going on around them needs to speak up now. I won’t stand for any hate on this team. A little competitive rivalry is good, but not this crap.”

I feel the group start to back down, though Liam looks pissed. He’s not going to let this go. I’d bet anything he’ll simply decide to take his next hit somewhere not related to the team.

Guys like him hate not having the last word.

When no one replies to Coach, he nods to us all. “Get dressed and on the ice. It’s time to get to work.”

He leaves us to do as he says. It’s a level of trust some of these guys don’t deserve.

I ignore them all to focus on my own stuff. Letting them get in my head before practice is not good. They don’t deserve my attention. If they keep talking shit about my little genius, I’m going to show them why they shouldn’t have. I won’t let them get away with it for long.

Coach’s warning won’t matter next time.

During practice, they make sure to pass me the puck just often enough for Coach to not call them out for ignoring me. It’s annoying given I’m the best player on the team. The less they use me, the worse we do overall.

Given its practice, it’s not as big of a deal as it will be during a game. But I’m of the firm belief that practice should reflect what we plan to do when it really does matter.

We’re also not supposed to play full out during practice. You wouldn’t know it with the way the other guys are slamming me into the boards. I’m big enough to be able to take it, though I shouldn’t have to.

The third time it happens, I skate past Coach and throw him a look. It says, ‘I’m done fucking around.’

He gives me one back that screams understanding. It’s like he intends to turn a blind eye on things if it gets rough.

Which is exactly what happens a few minutes later.

I’m slammed into the boards again. This time, instead of shaking it off, I turn around and slam my fist into Liam’s face. He collapses onto the ice, his body crumpling with the blow.

The rink turns silent at the crash. It amplifies the pitiful sounds he makes as he scrambles to stand again.

I lean over him, my voice menacing as I threaten him in my mother language. “If you so much as breathe a negative word about my little genius, I will have my uncle use your intestines as decoration for his office. You will be nothing more than an example to all those who cross us.”

He can’t understand a word of what I’m saying. None of them can.

Yet it’s obvious there’s enough anger in my tone to get the point across. Liam crawls away to his friends, who watch from the side as he pushes up to a standing position. They don’t dare help him for fear of getting the same treatment.

Practice ends right after. I’m not sure if it’s from the altercation or because Coach just knows there’s no point anymore. Either way, I’m happy to be done.

Another minute with these guys, and I’m going to lose everything. I’m in trouble as it is.

Coach yells for me to join him in his office. When I step inside after my shower, he motions for me to close the door.

Once it’s sealed and the blinds are closed, he smiles at me. “That was a beautiful hit,” he tells me.

I laugh at his amused expression. “Thanks, I think. I really thought you were about to lecture me.”

“Not this time. I’d already warned you. But then again, we’d warned them too. If he tries to press charges or anything, I’ll speak up for you. Harassment and discrimination go against the code of conduct as much as your punch does. He’ll be digging his own grave.”

“That’s true, I guess. Was there anything else you needed to tell me?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Just wanted to remind you I have your back, and that this isn’t a solo fight.”

I wait for whatever he has to say next. What comes out of his mouth is nothing I would have predicted?

“My niece is trans. I didn’t say anything last time we spoke because she’s not out to everyone yet, and I refuse to betray her trust. She’s trying to plan for what comes next as far as her transition goes, but it’s hard when everyone refuses to acknowledge her preferred gender and pronouns. So yeah, I’m in support of all things LGBTQIA+. You’ve got an ally in me.”

“Thanks, Coach. And tell your niece I’m excited for her. How old is she?”

He pulls out his phone. “She’s almost sixteen, which makes it hard. My brother is progressive enough to understand. His wife is not. They’re having issues because of it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. If she’s up for it, I could ask Bellamy or Jake if their sibling Royce would be up to chatting with her. They’re non-binary and from what I hear, they’re cool. It might help her to be around others living trans or androgynous lifestyles, right?”

Coach’s smile grew. “That’s a great idea. I’d love if you’d find out for me. I could reach out to Luke Swift to get connected to Jake Bellport myself; however, it might help to have someone on the inside with this.”

“I agree,” I tell him right as noise behind the door picks up. We both turn to it in confusion.

It opens before either of us can vocalize anything. When I realize I know the person standing there, I relax a bit. No wonder there was an uproar.

Bishop waves to Coach. “Sorry to interrupt. I was looking for Andry.”

“You’re good,” Coach replies in a quiet voice. “You’re… Brutal Bishop.”

The large man in the door nods as he steps forward. He reaches across the desk to shake Coach’s hand. “I am. I hear you’re this team’s coach. Andry had lots of good things to say.”

He’s not wrong. I did say a lot of good stuff about Coach’s efforts at teaching us to be good players on the ice. Most of it was to hint that I’ve got hockey experience under my belt, though some of it was just to let them know I had an ally on the team.

“Oh… wow. That’s good. Thanks, Andry.”

I wave a hand. “No thanks for me. It’s true.”

Bishop pats my shoulder, grabbing my attention. “How does lunch sound? We can grab Rodney too if he’s not in a class or anything.”

“He’s not,” I reply. I don’t have to check since I’ve memorized his schedule.

“Would you like to join us, Coach?”

The man can’t agree fast enough. I wind up at lunch with Bishop, Coach, and Rodney. It’s a strange mix, yet it seems to work.