Page 6 of Hooking the Captain
I took a deep breath and then met his stare. “I’m gay.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened.
“I’m sorry to just blurt it out like?—”
Without another word, he engulfed me in a powerful hug, and I relaxed against him.
“It’s okay.” He still held me in his arms.
Once we pulled apart, I blew out a breath as the weight lifted. “I think I just needed to tell someone.”
“I’m here for you anytime you need to talk or if there’s anything you need from me.”
“Thank you. As I get closer to the end of my career, I’ve been thinking a lot about my future and how I’d like to settle down some day. It’s been consuming my thoughts and affecting my game. I figured you were a good person to come to since you witnessed how Jonah struggled with everything.”
“I understand, and you call me anytime you need to talk.”
“I will.”
“Let’s get out of the freezing cold.” I shivered.
As I watchedthe attractive stranger, I wanted to approach him, to introduce myself, to find out more about the guy who had drawn my attention, but the fear of my friends and the world discovering my truth held me back.
So, instead, I observed the guy from a distance as I continued to play catch with my buds, all while wishing I could ask the guy to join us, but knowing it was another opportunity I had to let slip away. What if he were gay and would keep my secret? Or what if he was straight and outed me to everyone? Why couldn’t I talk to him and invite him and his friends to play football? What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I wasn’t around guys all day long on the ice and in the locker room.
The hours passed, and I tried to gather the courage to approach him, to start a conversation, but the fear of exposure weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I never made a move.
Instead, my friends and I went back to the rental cottage, and the hot guy was forgotten.
Like all the others.
The following Friday,I was at my folks’ house where I grew up in Hartford, Vermont. With a grueling eight or nine month season, I always tried to spend a few weeks in the off-season with my parents. It was also a time for me to visit some high school friends, so as soon as my parents called it a night, I sent a text to my friend, JP, who had been my best friend since third grade.
Hey! What are you up to?
Just got the kids down. What’s up?
Will Chrissy let you out tonight?
You’re home?
Yeah
Let me see. She wanted to watch a movie but I’ll ask
I had to admire my friend for asking his wife instead of telling her he was going out. In the past, she’d understood I wasn’t home except for a few weeks out of the year and never had a problem with him meeting me to catch up.
A few minutes later, he texted back:
It’s a go. Meet at the Thirsty Cow?
Yeah. I’ll be there in 30
I quickly showered and changed into a short-sleeved light blue shirt and jeans. Once in my truck, I drove to the bar and cut the engine. Scanning the small parking lot, I didn’t see JP’s SUV, so I decided to go inside and wait for him.
Hellos rang out as I walked into the dive bar, which was cast in a pink neon glow. I was used to people knowing who I was in the Boston area and in Hartford. Not only did the locals know me as a local and an NHL player, but I had helped the Big Green win the NCAA championship the two years I’d played for Dartmouth just down the road in Hanover, New Hampshire.
“Hey, Coop,” Harvey, the 50-something owner, greeted me as I stepped up to the bar. “Beer?”
