Puckless (Hockey Heroes Book 1), page 18
“Damn,” I grumbled, irritation churning beneath the surface. “Why can’t it just be simple?”
I ached to praise him and tell our story publicly, but that call wasn’t mine to make. It was Ethan’s choice.
“Maybe it won’t be long now,” I whispered into the darkness. “Maybe we’re close to shaking off the shadows.”
TWENTY-NINE
ETHAN
The neon lights of the karaoke bar flickered, casting a colorful glow over our booth. Ryan’s hand on my thigh was warm and reassuring, but I couldn’t shake the unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. The timing of my coming out was still plaguing my mind, and I knew I had to face it soon. But how exactly? And when specifically?
To ease some of the tension we felt from our team’s late-season charge toward the playoffs, Marek suggested that we go for a karaoke night at a local dive bar. I hesitated at first, but Nate and Biedler overruled me. “Bring Ryan along,” they suggested.
“Hey Marek, speaking of singing and all, what do you think of Eurovision?” Nate asked suddenly, his eyes dancing with mischief.
Marek’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Ah, Eurovision! It’s one of the greatest European traditions, my friend. We hold parties every year to watch.”
“Really?” Nate raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Marek’s enthusiasm. “I saw it on TV once. Some pretty weird stuff goes on there, man.”
“Of course!” Marek exclaimed, his accent thickening as he grew more excited. “Eurovision is about embracing the absurd and the humorous and even some serious music. It’s a true celebration of diversity.”
“Right,” Nate laughed, “I looked through stuff online, and this one act imitated a chicken in the middle of her song. What was that even about?”
“That’s what I say,” Marek beamed. “Isn’t it great? We need more silly in this world.”
Despite the weight of my secret threatening to suffocate me, I smiled at their banter. The camaraderie between my teammates was something I cherished. They’d already expressed their support for Ryan and me, and I knew they’d have my back when the time came to go wider with my news.
“Hey Ethan, what do you think?” Ryan nudged me gently. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, forcing a grin. “Just a bit distracted, I guess.” My statement was true. I found concentrating on the immediate scene around me difficult.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Ryan said softly, reassuringly squeezing my thigh. “We’re here to have fun, right?”
“Definitely,” I agreed, redoubling my effort to focus on the present moment and not let my fears control me.
“Since we’re on the topic of Eurovision, how about we take the stage and perform an ABBA song?” Marek suggested enthusiastically. “They won Eurovision in 1974, you know. That victory made them stars.”
“What song?” Ryan asked.
“Waterloo!” Marek exclaimed as he scrolled through the song selection on the karaoke machine, his eyes lighting up. “It’s here. It was their winning song. This is perfect.”
“Let’s do it!” Nate chimed in, clapping Marek on the back. “I’m the Anni-Frid to your Agnetha.”
Marek giggled. “And we need two more.” He looked directly at Biedler and me.
“Are you serious?” I asked, my heart pounding. Singing in front of everyone? I thought we were here to watch. I knew performing would introduce a new level of vulnerability—another raft of nerves.
“Come on, Ethan,” Biedler encouraged, “It’ll be fun.”
“Alright,” I finally conceded, feeling my stomach churn.
As we took to the stage, the opening notes of “Waterloo” filled the stale air in the bar. Surprisingly, the pulsating rhythm swept me up, and as we began to sing, something unexpected happened—I found myself enjoying the experience.
My thoughts returned to when I performed as King Arthur in Camelot in high school. I loved that. My voice rang out confidently, surprising even me with its clarity and strength.
Nate, Marek, and Biedler playfully belted out the lyrics at my side, their off-key harmonies creating a unique blend with my voice that had the rest of the bar laughing and cheering. As we reached the final chorus, the four of us locked arms and swayed together, our voices rising in unison.
“Waterloo, finally facing my Waterloo,” we finished, the last note hanging in the air.
The bar erupted into applause, and we bowed, grinning from ear to ear. It was exhilarating, the thrill of performing alongside my teammates like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
“Who knew you could sing like that, Ethan?” Biedler teased as we stepped off the stage. He slapped me on the back in celebration.
“Seriously,” Marek added. “You’ve got some pipes!”
“Thanks, guys,” I said bashfully, my cheeks flushing with pride. “I guess I did okay.”
At that moment, surrounded by laughter and camaraderie, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t known I needed. My secret seemed to shrink for the first time in months, fading into the background as I reveled in the joy of connecting with my teammates. I knew deep down that the time was coming soon when I’d have to face the truth head-on in the local spotlight, but for one night of playfulness, I let myself be swept away in the spontaneity and fun of it all, grateful for the friends who made me feel truly alive.
“Alright, Ryan and Ethan, your turn!” Marek announced, his eyes scanning the list of songs on the karaoke machine.
“Pick something good,” I said, trying to sound casual. I glanced at Ryan, who smiled encouragingly, reassuring me that we were in it together.
“Islands In the Stream,” Marek declared triumphantly, typing in the code for the song. “A classic and a perfect duet for the two of you.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” Ryan agreed, taking my hand and leading me onto the stage.
As the music began, Ryan sang in a rich, velvety voice, making me forget about my nerves. I glanced at him, feeling the warmth that radiated from his loving glance. As I joined in, our voices harmonized effortlessly, and our chemistry intensified with each note.
“From one lover to another,” Ryan sang, his voice tender and full of emotion.
“Uh-huh,” I chimed in, gazing into his eyes, allowing myself to be vulnerable in front of the room full of people. Perhaps it was something of a test run.
I enjoyed the night, finally letting go of my insecurities and embracing my relationship with Ryan. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was the only person in the room, and for the first time, I didn’t feel awkward about putting our love on display.
Marek, Nate, and Biedler clapped along, cheering us on. Their smiles and laughter filled me with a sense of belonging, and I knew that the friendships were deeper than just teammates—they were family.
As the song came to an end, Ryan and I hugged. He shocked me when he whispered in my ear, “My King Arthur.”
Stunned, I stumbled off the stage behind him. The energy in the room was electric, the crowd cheering for us as we stepped off the stage.
“Wow,” Biedler said, shaking his head in amazement. “You two have some serious chemistry.”
“Thanks,” I replied. He ruffled my hair, and I felt my chest swell with pride.
“Great job, guys,” Marek added, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Marek,” I responded, my voice edged with gratitude.
For the first time, I felt genuinely free—unburdened by the weight of my secret, embraced by my friends, and so deeply in love with Ryan.
I whispered to him, “How did you know?”
He smiled. “I’m a journalist. They pay me to know things.”
The night wore on, filled with laughter and good-natured teasing as we all took turns belting out songs. Biedler’s rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” had us all in stitches, while Marek impressed us with his surprisingly strong falsetto during “Take On Me.” My heart swelled with each shared laugh and inside joke, feeling more accepted by my friends than ever before.
“Who knew karaoke could be so fun?” I mused, taking a sip of my drink.
“I knew you’d come around to it,” Ryan winked.
“Alright, last call!” the bartender announced, signaling the end of our impromptu karaoke night. Reluctantly, we gathered our things and prepared to leave the bar.
“Man, what a night,” Nate sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “Can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”
“Agreed,” I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought of how far I’d come that evening.
As we stepped outside into the cool night air, Ryan pulled me close and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was sweet and tender, a perfect end to an incredible evening.
Biedler whistled, grinning from ear to ear. “Get a room, you two!” he teased me playfully, poking me in the ribs.
I laughed and broke away from the kiss, looking back at Biedler. “That’s the plan—at home,” I replied, my voice laced with happiness.
“Good for you guys,” Marek said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Just don’t forget about us when you’re all lovey-dovey.”
“Never,” I promised, grateful for their support and acceptance.
We said our goodbyes and headed off into the night, my heart lighter than it had been in a long time. The weight of my secret no longer held me down—instead, I was buoyed by the love and acceptance of my friends and the incredible bond that Ryan and I shared. As we walked hand in hand toward our future together, I knew that nothing could hold us back.
“Hey,” Ryan whispered, his grip on my hand tightening, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” I whispered back.
THIRTY
RYAN
The vibration of my phone startled me as I finalized my weekly roundup. I glanced at the screen, expecting to see Arlo’s name, but it was my editor, Susan, calling from Boston.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“Ryan, great news,” she practically shouted. “Your feature article on diversity in hockey—we’re pushing it into early publication.”
I blinked, momentarily stunned. The news was unexpected. “Really? That’s fantastic.”
“Wait, it gets better,” she continued, her voice bubbling excitedly. “When we sent out our usual PR notices about the article, a local TV station got interested. They want you on their morning show to discuss the subject.”
“Me? On TV?” The words felt foreign as they left my lips.
“Yep,” she confirmed. “How does that sound?”
“Amazing, honestly,” I admitted, feeling a surge of adrenaline. “But also kind of terrifying.”
“Terrifying is good,” Jane said reassuringly. “It means you care about what you’re doing. This is a huge opportunity, Ryan. You’re going to crush it.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my heart pounding. “I’ll do my best.”
“Great. I’ll send you the details soon,” she promised before hanging up.
I stared at my phone, processing the news. My article would be published early, and I would discuss it on TV. It was an incredible opportunity, one that shocked the hell out of me.
As I sat there, contemplating the good fortune, I realized it could be a remarkable opportunity for someone else, too, not just me.
Heart still racing, I practically sprinted through my apartment to find Ethan. He was in the kitchen, expertly slicing vegetables for dinner using the knife skills I’d recently taught him. I was in the process of turning him into a competent cook. The moment he saw my flushed face and wide grin, he stopped.
“Ryan?” Ethan’s concerned blue eyes widened. “What happened?”
“Good news,” I panted, taking a deep breath. “Remember when I told you that my editor was okay with doing something other than the profile of the Mitts?”
“Yes—“
“Well, the something other was an article on diversity among players in hockey.”
“Oh, you would be an excellent person to write that,” Ethan said.
My eyes opened wide, and I jumped up and down momentarily. “They loved my article so much that they are publishing it early, and they want me to go on TV here in Madison to discuss it!”
The surprise was evident on his handsome face as his eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible, Ryan! I’m so excited for you.”
I nodded vigorously. “Yeah, a local morning show wants to talk about the issue. Can you believe that?”
“Wow.” Ethan set down the knife, wiped his hands on a towel, and stepped closer. “That’s huge, man. Congrats!”
“Thanks,” I said, beaming at him. Thoughts tumbled over each other in my mind, racing with possibilities. I knew that it had the potential to change everything for both of us.
“Look at you, making waves in the journalism world.” Ethan grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” He gathered me in for a massive hug.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I replied sincerely, feeling warmth blossoming in my chest. His support meant everything to me.
“Hey, it’s your talent that got you this far. I just try and give you a little push from behind.” He winked, his playful demeanor showing in his eyes.
“Still,” I insisted, smiling at him, “thank you.”
Ethan simply nodded. As he looked at me, his expression was steady and sincere. At that moment, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: the opportunity to talk in such a public forum was more than a career milestone. It was a chance to bring real change to the sport that was such a massive part of both of our lives.
“Let’s celebrate,” Ethan suggested, breaking the silence. “I have a bottle of wine I was saving for something special.”
“Yeah, well, it sounds like it fits this occasion.”
Ethan chuckled softly. “Honestly, it’s just an expensive bottle. I wasn’t really saving it, but I thought that was a good thing to say.”
I hugged him as tightly as I could before I let him go to retrieve the wine. “It sounds perfect,” I said, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension about the immediate future.
As we each sipped our glasses of wine, the aroma of Ethan’s homemade spaghetti sauce filled the air. He stirred it carefully, watching as it bubbled and simmered. Delicate tendrils of steam rose, creating a dance of flavor and warmth that mirrored the energy between us.
“Hey,” I began, my voice filled with hope and hesitation, “I thought of something else about this TV appearance. I know it’s a long shot, but—what if you came with me?”
Ethan paused, his spoon hovering above the pot. “What do you mean?”
“Join me on the show if they agree,” I clarified. “Help me tell the story. It’s your world, too.”
He frowned, considering my proposal. For a moment, I worried that I had pushed him too far outside his comfort zone. But then he slowly set the spoon down, meeting my gaze.
“You mean as an interview subject?” he asked.
“Exactly,” I replied. “You could share your experiences as a professional hockey player and talk about the diversity—or lack thereof—in the sport. And if you feel comfortable, maybe even...” I trailed off, not wanting to pressure him.
“Come out?” he finished for me, his eyes searching mine.
“Only if you want to,” I said softly, my heart thumping. It was a monumental decision, and I didn’t want to make it for him.
Ethan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, while the sauce continued to bubble behind him.
“Ryan, I know it’s time, and I told the team I was ready. Trying to decide on the right moment has been tearing me apart.” His voice wavered slightly. “It’s exhausting. Maybe this is the right opportunity. I can finally be honest in front of the entire world.”
“Are you sure?” I questioned gently, stepping closer. “This is a big step.”
He looked up determination blazing in his eyes. “I’m tired of hiding, Ryan. If I can use my story to help others and make a difference in the sport I love—it’s absolutely worth the risk.”
“Then let’s do it,” I said, my voice full of conviction. I reached out and squeezed his hand, feeling the strength and resolve that had carried him through countless games and challenges.
“Let’s change the game together.”
After Ethan decided, I couldn’t ignore the weight of responsibility that settled upon me. I knew it was a gamble for both of us. My career and reputation were on the line, as well as his.
“Ryan,” Ethan whispered, gripping my arm tightly, “Will you ask your editor about this? What if she says no?”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability he often tried to conceal. “Ethan, this is your story, and it’s too important to let anyone else control how it unfolds. I won’t say anything to anybody until we’re there for my on-air interview. They may not want you to speak, but I know journalists. I bet the opportunity for an exclusive will excite them. We’ll do this together, on our terms.” My voice remained steady, even though my mind raced with the potential consequences.
“Alright,” he agreed, his jaw set with determination. “We have each other’s backs, no matter what.”
“Absolutely,” I nodded, squeezing his hand again before releasing it.
The following days became a blur as we prepared for the TV appearance. Between work and practice, we spent hours discussing what we wanted to say, how we wanted to say it, and the impact we hoped to make.
At night, lying in bed next to Ethan, my mind was consumed by thoughts about the upcoming appearance. Was I making the right choices? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but each time I looked at Ethan—his face relaxed in sleep—I knew that helping him live authentically was worth the risk.
“Ryan,” Ethan whispered, gripping my arm as we stood in the lobby of the local TV station. “I’m nervous.”
