Page 96 of The Puck Contract

"School's good. Busy with finals coming up." I swallow, fingers drumming nervously against my thigh where they can't see. "Actually, I, uh, wanted to talk to you all about something."

The atmosphere shifts immediately. Mom's smile falters, Dad sits up straighter, and Elena leans forward with interest.

"Are you in trouble?" Mom asks immediately. "Do you need money? Your father just got his bonus—"

"No, no, nothing like that." I take a deep breath. "It's about... well, you've probably seen some stuff online. About me. And, um, a hockey player."

Silence falls over the video call. My mother and father exchange a glance I can't quite interpret. Elena's face splits into a grin she quickly tries to suppress.

"We have seen some things," Mom says carefully. "Pictures. Articles."

"They say you're dating someone," Dad adds, his first full sentence of the call. "A man."

The way he says it—flat, uninfected—makes my stomach clench. I can't read him at all.

"Yes," I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes through the screen. "His name is Ansel Williams. Groover, they call him. He plays for the Chicago Wolves."

More silence. I rush to fill it.

"It started as... well, it's complicated. But we've been seeing each other for a while now, and I wanted to tell you myself, officially, that I'm... bisexual." The word feels strange on my tongue, new but right. "I like women, but I also like men. Or, well, this man specifically, right now."

I'm rambling. I clamp my mouth shut, waiting for the response that will either break or mend something essential between us.

Mom speaks first. "Are you happy?"

The question catches me off guard. Notare you sureorhow could you do thisor any of the dozen reactions I'd braced for.

"Yes," I say, surprised by the certainty in my voice. "I really am."

She nods, as if that settles everything. "Then we're happy too."

I look to my father, whose expression remains unreadable. "Dad?"

He takes off his glasses, cleaning them methodically with the hem of his shirt—a habit I know means he's thinking carefully about his words.

"When you were born," he finally says, "the doctor put you in my arms and said 'Congratulations, you have a son.' And I thought I knew what that meant." He puts his glasses back on, looking directly at me. "I thought it meant you would be just like me. Same interests, same path, same kind of life."

My heart sinks. Here it comes.

"But you were always your own person, Mateo. From the day you could talk, always asking questions I didn't have answers for. Always seeing the world differently than I did." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "It used to frustrate me. Now it's what I'm most proud of—that you think for yourself, make your own path."

I blink rapidly, fighting back unexpected tears.

"So this?" He gestures vaguely. "This is just one more way you're finding your own answers. As long as you're safe, as long as you're happy... that's what matters to me."

"I knew it!" Elena bursts out, unable to contain herself any longer. "I told Mom months ago! The way you talked about that player in your texts—you were totally crushing!"

"Elena!" Mom scolds, but she's laughing.

"What? I have excellent gaydar. Or bi-dar, whatever." Elena's smile is smug. "When do we get to meet him? Is he hot in person? The pictures online are pretty damn fine—"

"Elena Maria Rossi!" Mom interjects, scandalized.

"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. The man looks like he was carved from marble."

I can't help laughing, relief making me light-headed. "He's... yeah. He's pretty great."

"We'd like to meet him," Dad says quietly. "When you're ready."

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