Page 178 of Game Changer
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Scott was surprised, but not really, to find Kip sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, and not in bed, when he got home. It was almost three-thirty in the morning.
He was wearing sleep pants and a tank top, and he was everything Scott wanted to see at that moment.
“You’re awake,” Scott said stupidly.
“Of course. You seem less drunk than I was expecting.” Kip slid off the stool and crossed the floor to meet Scott.
“I stopped drinking a while ago.” Scott put his hands on Kip’s waist.
“I’m really fucking proud of you,” Kip said. “For everything tonight.”
Scott kissed him and it was exactly what he had been craving all night. Even while celebrating winning the goddamnStanley Cupwith his teammates, he’d been consumed with the need to kiss his boyfriend.
“Kinda jumped off the cliff there,” he said, after they broke apart. “Sorry. I should have talked to you first, maybe.”
“It’s fine,” Kip said. “Scott, it’sfine. I wasn’t expecting it, but... I mean, that was romantic as hell!”
Scott laughed and buried his face in Kip’s neck, kissing just under his chin.
“I love you so much,” he said. His voice had gotten very raspy over the course of the night. He’d done a lot of yelling.
“Love you too, sweetheart. Now come on. Always wanted to take a Stanley Cup champion to bed.”
Epilogue
Scott felt Kip’s hand squeeze his own. He returned the gesture, reassuring him.
I’m fine. I’ve got this.
They sat together in the audience of the NHL Awards in Las Vegas. The nominees for the final award of the night, the league MVP, were being read from the stage, Scott’s name among them. Winning would be nice, but he wasn’t concerned about that as much as he was hoping for an opportunity to speak.
“And the Hart Trophy goes to,” said the presenter, “Scott Hunter!”
Scott exhaled and stood.Here we go.Kip released his hand and smiled at him, and Scott found strength in that smile. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach as he turned and made his way to the stage. He took the trophy from the presenter and held it up for a moment before setting it carefully on the floor next to the podium.
“Hi,” he said when the applause had died down. There was scattered laughter.
“First of all, thank you for this. All of my fellow nominees are just as deserving. Even Rozanov.” There was more laughter.
He looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He probably should have written something out, but that sort of planning was never really his style.
“A few weeks ago,” he started, “I achieved my lifelong dream of winning the Stanley Cup. Those of you who have done that know how it feels. I really can’t describe it. But...something else happened that night. Something that, you’ve probably noticed, got a lot more attention than the Admirals winning the Cup.”
The audience was very quiet now. He could feel the tension in the room.Is he really going to talk about this? Here?
“It’s been an interesting month,” he continued. “In case you somehow missed it, I came out as gay in a ridiculously public way. I don’t regret that, and I never will. I know it was a shock to most people. And, sadly, it’s been a disappointment to some. I know people have been burning their Scott Hunter jerseys, which, by the way, is not a good idea. Those are polyester, and are full of chemicals.”
The crowd laughed. They sounded relieved.
“I, uh, I got a Twitter account a couple of weeks ago,” Scott said. “I’ve always been a very private person. Or, as private as I can be, considering. I love meeting fans, but I never shared my life in any public way. What I’ve seen, these past few weeks, is that maybe it’s important that I do, a bit. Fans have been sending me messages, a lot of young fans, telling me how much it meant to them for me to come out.”
Scott didn’t mention that he had also received emails and phone calls from a few fellow NHL players, saying similar things. He wasn’t here to start rumors or speculation.
“I love hockey. I love being able to do this for a living. But,” he said, “I know what it feels like to not fit in.
“When I was a teenager, when it started to look like a career in hockey was a real possibility, two things happened. One was that my mother died. The other was that I began to realize that I might be thatthingthat every hockey player liked to throw around as an insult. The kind of language I heard on the ice, and in the locker room, every day was a constant reminder that I was different. Maybe it made me a better player. Maybe it gave me another reason to prove myself. But it also made me terrified that someone would find out my secret.”
