Page 144 of On Thin Ice

“I’ve been upfront about how I should have gone to therapy sooner than I did,” Neal confessed. “I spent practically a whole year hiding in my house, after the Super Bowl. Because yeah I didn’t want to see anyone, and wonder what they were going to say about the kick I’d missed, but also because I was more worried how I’d feel about myself if they did.”

“I figured out pretty quickly I needed the therapy,” Jacob said wryly. “My agent found me one day, sink full of empty wine bottles and a week out from a shower, and he sent me a number that same day. She’s been amazing, but even as amazing as she is, it’s not easy.”

Neal shook his head. “Nope. The process kind of sucks, right?”

“Totally sucks, but still totally worth it.”

“Is that who recommended that you start your new foundation?” Neal asked.

Jacob braced himself. They were coming into the meat of the interview. The part he’d practiced with Finn last night.

Early, early this morning, before he’d left for the airport, Finn had kissed him sleepily, told him he loved him and he was proud of him, and honestly that memory had been keeping him going.

“Yeah, it was her idea that I find something new to care about. The foundation was a no-brainer because I wish there’d been something like this when I was growing up.”

Neal gave him a soft, supportive smile and read the mission statement Jacob and Carla, their brand-new director, had spent the last week refining.

“So,” Neal added, “this is really great. I think LGBTQ kids could really use this support system. And it sounds like you’re committed to giving it to them.”

“Totally committed,” Jacob agreed.

“Sounds personal,” Neal said, and there was the prompt. Not exactly as it had been written on the sheet, but there it was regardless.

Jacob was afraid. There was no way around it. He was afraid, but he also trusted that in the next minute, he’d be less afraid.

Less afraid and free, and the latter was all that mattered in this moment.

“I’m gay,” Jacob said. And there it was. Recorded and not released but that didn’t matter, because tomorrow everyone on the planet could hear him say those words. Most of them wouldn’t know who he was and most wouldn’t even care, buthecared.

He took a breath and kept going. “I wish I’d had someone to tell me that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t a freak. My family and friends were supportive. My coaches always knew, and a lot of teammates, and they were mostly supportive, too.”

Neal shrugged, and Jacob knew from the look on his face that he understood, more than maybe Finn had, who’d grown up in a more accepting time, with more out pro athletes, that nothingwasever perfect. “It’s sad that we were forced to acceptmostlysupportive, butmostlyis better thannot,” Neal said.

“Yeah. I was luckier than some. But even when I had great people in my corner, I think it would have gone a long way if I’d believed that the wider world was also supportive. That’s really the idea behind this foundation. We want to build support systems for those kids. Kids like you, and like me. But even more importantly, I want to raise awareness in the wider sports community and build collaboration and understanding.”

“I think there’s this really terrible fallacy out there,” Neal said, nodding, “that the sports communityisn’tsupportive, and I think it’s great you’re going to try to bring the truth of what it means to be a queer person in both non-professionalandprofessional sports out to the wider public.”

“Nothing’s perfect,” Jacob said, borrowing Finn’s words, because hewasperfect.

“Nope, but we’re making it better one day at a time,” Neal agreed.

The interview wound down. When it finally ended, Neal rose and Jacob met him halfway between the chairs, holding out his hand to shake, but to his surprise, Neal pulled him in for a hug instead.

“Congratulations, Jacob,” he said, when he let him go. “I’m so happy for you. Great interview. I can’t wait for people to hear it.”

“Thanks for having me,” Jacob said.

“You know, we contacted some of your teammates and players you skated against, for extra material,” Neal said.

Jacob tensed. He hadn’t known they were doing that.

“Sophie,” Neal continued, “suggested a list, and it had one really interesting addition.”

God, Jacob just bet she’d done it. He wanted to yell at her, but he supposed Neal was bringing this up for a reason. Either to tell him he needed to fire Sophie—and it would be terrible timing todo that, since she was standing just behind the camera, listening to every word—or to tell him that the result had been surprising.

“Hayes Montgomery had something to say, and Noah Boucher and Asher Dalton too. But the most fascinating addition was Morgan Reynolds. You know, his son Finn’s gay?”

“I know,” Jacob said, trying to keep a straight face.

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