Page 57 of Blitz
My teammates piled on. Coach looked like he might actually smile for once. We were top of the division. I’d buried a game-winner with the man I loved watching from the stands, and Noah, who was fast becoming my best friend, was on my wing.
This was everything.
I loved hockey. I loved Tom. And for the first time in my life, I lovedme.
Epilogue
TOM
There’san old saying about how God moves in mysterious ways.
As I sat in the locker room of the BoltFuel Stadium in Atlanta, waiting for Coach to arrive for one last pep talk, fully geared up, fifteen minutes before we took to the field to meet the San Francisco Stars, I couldn’t help but smile at how Trick had come full circle. He was out in the stands with my entire family plus his sister, Noah and Brody, living it up. How opportune that the NHL had their All-Star week lined up to coincide—not on purpose, I assumed—with the Super Bowl. Not saying that hockey knew it couldn’t compete with football buuuuuut…
My man had left Georgia in disgrace and had come home a hero of sorts. He was certainly heroic in my eyes, and the eyes of many young gay kids who had heard his story and could see that there was a way out. I could never express how proud I was of him. Coming out took balls. Standing up to the person who had made your life a living hell was beyond ballsy. It was next-level valiant.
“Hey.”
I looked up from my cleats, an old Phil Collins song flowing into my ears, to see Tucker standing in front of me. Great. This was not the vibe I needed before hitting the field to play my last game for all the fucking marbles. I sighed, then tugged a bud out.
“Look, if you’re here to empty your chamber pot of judgmental hate over my head you can just haul your ass right back to the other side of the room,” I growled softly.
Ty, sitting a few feet over and lost in his pregame meditation, blinked an eye open to watch what was going on.
“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to apologize.”
Sure I wasn’t hearing correctly, I yanked the other bud out just as that killer drum bit was breaking free. “Am I being pranked?”
“No, man, no, I just…” He glanced around the room, then sank to one knee beside me. Others were watching now. Mostly observing and gauging the vibe. No one wanted to be stressed before the game started. And no one wanted any bullshit. “My sister has some kids. One of them just came out as a lesbian.”
Oh. Okay. Yep. That was cool for her. Brave kid. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from being that guy. The guy who mentioned how people suddenly sang a different tune when something impacted them personally.
“You must be proud of her for speaking her truth,” I said instead of being a jerk. But man did I long to be jerky.
“Yeah, well, it was a shock. But we’re all trying our best to be supportive. She’s a good girl, smart, going to college in the fall to be a nurse.”
“She sounds amazing.”
He shifted uncomfortably, the overhead lights reflecting off his bald head. “She’s my favorite niece.” He met my gaze for the first time in months. “I see now that I was wrong about you, and your boyfriend, about a lot. I know I can’t take back what wassaid, but I would like to say I’m sorry for spitting at you. That was crass.”
“Yeah, it was.” I sat back, drew in a breath, and offered him my wrapped hand. “I accept your apology. I don’t know as we’ll ever be besties, but I hope I can dump some champagne over your thick skull after we win that pretty silver trophy.”
“I’d like that too. God bless you, Tom, for your forgiving heart.”
We shook. He ambled off. Ty gave me a quirked brow. Coach arrived. We all went silent as he said a quick non-denominational prayer before launching into a short, but fiery, speech about our character, what our legacy was, and how important this moment was. He spoke of teamwork, how we would not settle for second, and how each of us will carry the memory of this game with us our entire lives. Then, with a nod from our captain, we rose and lined up in the tunnel. Energy was high. Men were bouncing, shouting, some were still praying. I was rocking back and forth, inhaling the smell of AstroTurf, sweat, and excitement.
“Hey, man, we took a vote. You lead us out,” Ty shouted at me. I gawked at my friend, then glanced around at the other players in gold and blue. They all nodded. “It’s your last game, man. You take us out.”
“Shit.” I choked up, then nodded. Taking a deep breath, I moved to the front of the pack and heard the stadium announcer leading up to our exit. With a rush of adrenalin, my old knees felt like those of a twenty-year-old as I charged out of the tunnel. The crowd went wild. Well, half the crowd. We ran past two huge foam pumas that blew smoke, then between twin lines of our team cheerleaders and our mascot, a dude in a puma suit, charging around making clawing motions at the opposing team.
Things went quickly then. Almost as if time were speeding up when I wanted it to slow down. I needed to relish every momentof this game. It was my last. That made me feel far too many things, so I pushed the emotions down for now. I’d sort them all out later. We bided our time until the flyover and anthem were sung, then we met for the coin toss.
We won the flip. We deferred to the second half, which meant the Stars would receive the ball first. This half. Coach liked us having the first possession in the second.
Feeling our oats, the defense took to the field with me shouting at the rest of the mountainous men to take him down. We all knew who he was. Gerome Ivans, the quarterback of the Stars. Great player, nice guy, cute wife and kid. I planned to smash his face into the green as often as I could. It was nothing personal. Just my job. Dropping down into my stance, I felt the love flowing to me from Trick. Somewhere up there, amid seventy thousand fans, was my boyfriend. Maybe I was being a little silly, but hey, a man in love is allowed to be giddy now and again.
Knuckles on the turf, heart pounding, I zeroed in on Gerome behind his offensive line. We wanted to make an impression right out of the gate. Gerome’s audible was hard to pick up with the crowd noise, but I caught the movement of his foot as he shifted.
The ball was snapped, and we surged. Bodies hit bodies, men grasping at other men, the grunt of impact. A small hole opened up, and I blew through it on the left as Tucker came at Gerome from the right. Pressured right from the snap, Gerome faded back, turned, and tried to fake a pass to his wide receiver, who was obviously not open because he then tried to rush the ball. I dove at his legs to take him down. We’d barely hit the turf when I was yanked to my feet and beat on the helmet by Tucker. I threw a fist into the air.
