Page 95 of Scoring Zone
We scheduled Pride Night for our last home game of the regular season. In a perfect world, we’d schedule it in June for Pride Month. But it’s not a guarantee we’ll have a home game,andit’s taunting the hockey gods.
The team is aware of our plan, and Finn met with us to discuss our statement. It was trickier than I thought because of the league’s stance on player/trainer relationships.
I crane my neck. “Do you see Brant?” Since we’re playing the New York Nationals, Rhys Brant wants to join us on the ice for Pride Night. His team doesn’t involve LGBTQ members in their celebration.
It seems like all of New York showed up to support us.
Sunshine laces our fingers together. “He might have a hard time getting permission to leave his team for enemy territory.” Gray appears calm, but he’s eager to thank Rhys in person. His statement to the press and at the police station brought a public outcry to the case and ultimately forced Dumas’s attorneyto drop both the civil and criminal charges. From what Gray’s lawyer said, Dumas’s father was the force behind pressing the lawsuits.
“True.” The visiting team’s locker room and entry to the ice are on the opposite side of the arena. “I gave security a heads-up, and Finn said he’d escort him if he comes over.” Brant is half out. His team, friends, and family know, but he hasn’t discussed his sexuality publicly. We’ve texted a bunch of times since the altercation with Dumas, and he’s a great guy.
The crowd is fired up because we’re in the playoffs and playing great hockey. Earlier, I saw the sea of Pride jerseys, and it brought tears to my eyes.
“Look alive, my stud muffins. The show’s about to start.” Finn rolls up with authority and deposits Brant behind us.
“Hey, man, good to see you.” I let go of Gray and give him a buddy hug.
“I’d give my left nut to play for a team like this.” He grins, peering down the tunnel.
“I’m so grateful to you, man.” Gray wraps him in a two-arm bear hug. “Thank you.”
Mr. Dimon exits an office, and I wave him over. “Mr. Dimon, have you met—” He abruptly turns and stalks away before I can introduce him to Rhys. “That was weird.”
The music blares, and the announcer gives his cue for us to walk onto the ice. There’s a rainbow carpet for us, and the players have their skate guards on.
We walk forward with Jayce McKenna, our Director of Player Development, his wife Madyson, and fiancé Emmet, at the front of the procession. The cheers are deafening as we reach the end of the tunnel.
“This is the greeting I imagine we’ll get when we win The Cup,” I mutter in Gray’s ear.
My chest fills with a surreal pride as we walk forward. In addition to a sea of Pride jerseys, there are Pride flags and banners waving. The song “Pink Pony Club” works the crowd into a frenzy.
My sister, Lori, is in the crowd tonight for support. She’s been an amazing ally and has kept our parents from spouting homophobic rhetoric. I can’t see her yet.
King stumbles, his ankles turning in. He glances over his shoulder with wide, terrified eyes.
Grayson lunges forward, calling my name, snaking an arm around King’s waist. We flank him to keep him upright. The one word I would use to describe King is smooth. Ten months make a world of difference. He arrived shy and cautious, but as he became comfortable with us, he’s shown his strength and unflappable demeanor.
He handles insults on the ice better than most veterans and moves with grace and ease. To see him stumble is more than disconcerting.
“They’ll all know,” he whispers, shrinking into himself.
“We’ve got you.” Gray tightens his arm around him. “They don’t know shit.”
“You’re an ally,” I declare, giving him an out if he’s not ready for this. Some members of the organization are walking out to represent their loved ones and aren’t technically a part of the LGBTQ community.
My fears about people’s perception of me have vanished as I concentrate on King.
“Smile for your parents,” Grayson urges him.
“I’m ruining your moment.” King tries to break away from us but trips.
“We’re good,” I assure him.
“This could be hilarious.” Brant steps up even with us. “The rumors of you guys in a poly relationship like McKenna aregoing to be delicious. I want in on this.” He drapes an arm over Grayson’s shoulder, and I fight the urge to snarl at him since he’s helping King.
King stifles a laugh and smiles.
My insides are ready to burst with the acceptance and love the crowd is giving us. “I wish I could bottle this,” I say in awe.
