A slow smile spreads over my face. “Jason, you’ve been accused of homophobia by your teammates and coach. Is there anything you want to say?”
“I was homophobic,” Jason says, his cheeks pinkening. “And I apologize. Tremendously. I made my teammates uncomfortable.”
I wait.
Jason inhales. “I also want to add something. This is not an excuse for my behavior. I’ve, uh, been thinking a lot about maskslately. Not in an I-want-to-go-to-Carnival-in-Venice manner either. I—”
His eyes catch mine, and I nod.
He relaxes at once. “I’ve taken my career seriously my whole life. Yes, I was the two-year-old on the ice playing with professional hockey players... In my case, players from my dad’s old AHL team. I didn’t know a way to live a life that wasn’t about hockey, and I pushed away everything that might get in the way. I, uh, first started having gay thoughts in elementary school. Fourth grade.”
Rustling sounds in my earpiece. Chloe clutches onto her papers, unwilling to drop them again.
“And even then, I knew that was something I couldn’t tell anyone. I heard the jokes. I hoped the feelings would disappear. They didn’t. And I couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t have those feelings. And I do like women too, and I thought it didn’t matter. That I could stomp away that part of myself. Put it in a box and fling it into the ocean. Unfortunately, there’s no ocean in Minnesota. I was sort of successful. People didn’t suspect I was anything but what I said I was, even though I lived in fear of having anyone find out my secret. I didn’t think I could be signed on to play a high-level team sport if I said I liked men. In fact, until the start of this season, there weren’t any examples. My teammates were right in saying I distanced themselves from them after they came out. But it was because I was terrified that I would be discovered. And I was also angry at them for getting into loving relationships so easily. At least, that’s how I perceived it. I was jealous. I-I didn’t want anything to do, with them. I behaved poorly, and I apologize.”
The control room seems in shock. I glance at the cameramen. They appear equally stunned.
“You were suffering from internal homophobia,” I say.
“Yes.”
“How do you define yourself now?”
“I’m bisexual,” Jason says. “Technically. But I, uh, am in a relationship with a man, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
I smile.
He smiles.
“I don’t know what this means for my career, but I appreciate Coach Holberg and the Blizzard’s commitment toward inclusivity, even though I spent most of the year pushing back against it,” Jason says. “But I’ve spent my whole life pretending. And the only time I felt real was with you.”
And even though I’ve read every handbook.
Even though I’ve learned guidelines on ethics.
Even though I know the difference between professional and not professional, I reach for his hand.
Jason takes it immediately.
He stares at our joined fingers, then he squeezes my hand, as if in wonder.
Finally, he looks into the camera, just like I know he was told to do, and smiles.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Jason
The interview ends.
There’s silence.
Then, from somewhere off-camera, loud clapping breaks out. I turn to see Jeremy emerging from behind the cameras, applauding enthusiastically.
“Holy shit, Jason!” he calls out, shiny teeth displayed in a wide grin. “That was incredible!”
The cameramen stare at me, then at Jeremy, then back at me.
Cal barks out a laugh. “How did you sneak in, Jeremy?”
