Please. Please. Please.
My mind shouts, but I don’t look contrite. I don’t beg. I can’t have him know he’s trampled on my soul. I can’t be benched. I can’t have the whole skating world know how useless I am. I can’t have my teammates look at me with more hatred and disgust than they already do.
When his gaze remains sour, I’m glad I didn’t debase myself.
“You told Volkov you did not want to see his naked body in the locker room.”
“He reported it?”
“No,” Coach concedes. “He did not. But you cannot act like the people who do not share your sexual preferences are less than you. I have zero tolerance for homophobia from my players.”
I close my eyes.
This is ridiculous.
But if I tell Coach that, he’ll be even angrier at me.
“I understand,” I say instead.
Disappointment flickers over Coach’s face. He probably wanted me to lose my temper.
And I am angry.
I want to tell him.
But my job is more precarious than I thought it would be. My identity as an NHL player on a top team might not be accurate for long.
Fuck.
I just bought an apartment in Seaport. Not the cheap part of town. I’ll lose money if I sell.
Is this all going to be over? Did I blow it?
Am I going to be searching for jobs to coach school children? Tension shoots through me. But who would hire a person who was thrown out for not working well with others? Will some rough and tumble team outside the NHL take me on? Where the injuries are as bad, the hours as cruel, but I’ll have none of my current glory? Will the players be as rough as I pretend to be? As nasty and terrible as I’m accused of being? As nasty and terrible as perhaps I am?
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
Coach Holberg sighs and taps something into his phone. My skates are too tight around my ankles, keeping me from running away.
“I do not want this to be associated with my team.” Then he turns the screen toward me, and a news article in the familiar bright colors of the Sports Sphere website flashes before me. I freeze at the byline—Valerie Davis and Callum Prescott.
I knew Cal was a journalist. I saw him in the press room at that terrible press briefing, and I’d read a few of his articleswhen I was bored and googled him. He used to work for Sports Sphere’s Southeast division.
Then my gaze falls to the article title: “Professional Sports Most Homophobic Player? Meet Jason Larvik.”
The blood drains from my face.
CHAPTER THREE
Cal
Rex Manley’s face is flushed red as he paces the glass conference room. I lean forward as he clicks on his PowerPoint.
My article appears on the screen:
“Professional Sports’ Most Homophobic Player? Meet Jason Larvik.”
God, this is cool. I grew up watching Rex play, and now he’s the premier sports journalist in the country.
