Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

LO

It wasn't that long ago when goals were just part of the game. An important part, obviously. Yes, I'm always happy when I score—who isn't? But the way Caulder's looking at me with that fucking smile… everything inside me just jumps.

He doesn't look mad or irritated that they lost and will no longer be competing for the $1 million. His smile remains as he watches me. When I smile back, winking at him, Caulder rolls his eyes and looks away, but I don't miss the way his cheeks blush. Just a little.

There's another ten-minute intermission between this game and the next, so we head into the guest locker room with the Central team, sending Metro to the home locker room.

"Gather up," Coach Adak calls. Our celebrity, coach Royalty, is leaning against the side with a huge grin. It's pretty wild to be in their presence. I remember watching them on television when they were just getting big! "You're playing a good game. Kain—congrats on the hat trick."

Max wraps his arm around Noah's neck, forcing Noah to bend over. He laughs. "Thanks, Coach. I wasn't facing Azure, so I think I had the advantage."

Eyes turn to Azure. He gives the room half a smile but there's still something so… blank about his expression.

"Let's do Azure in the first half, Lamar in the second. Focus on offense in the first half and let's go hard. Get those goals. I'd like to see us not end up in a shootout," Coach says.

"If we do, let's keep Azure in the net," Lamar says. "I'm decent at one-on-one, but I don't have the unnerving stare like he does. It gives him that extra edge. I don't even like being across from him when we play Vegas."

The room chuckles. "He's a softie," Noah insists, throwing a big grin at Azure.

Azure returns the smile and it's probably the only time I've seen something almost warm on his face. Is it just Noah? Or are they more friends than acquaintances?

"Remember we have the best of the best on the ice," Brian says. "It's going to take a lot more than relying on our goalies to win this game. Keep focused."

He doesn't look at me, but I have a very distinct feeling that his words are directed at me. Maybe not intentionally, but he's not wrong. I need to keep focused. No thinking about Caulder for the next half an hour! I've spent my entire life not thinking about him. I can manage half an hour.

Okay, I've spent most of my life not thinking about him. Not going to lie, when I saw him on that billboard in his underwear? Yeah, I thought about him a little bit. How could I not? I thought he was gorgeous when I'd seen him in passing either at games or in pictures online. The billboard gave me a whole new appreciation.

But in person? Goddamn. Gorgeous just doesn't cut it.

No! Fuck's sake, Laurent. Hockey!

Thankfully, I don't have much longer to continuously mentally force myself to focus on what I should be doing. Which isn't thinking about a sexy Buffalo player. We head back to the ice a few minutes later, which makes it marginally easier to keep my concentration since he's no longer in view, and I have a job to do.

We arrange on the ice and line up for the puck drop. Mattias flings it away and it lands against Noah's stick. It doesn't take long for me to realize I'm much better playing defense and allowing them to dance around each other. Noah and Mattias aren't exactly the magic that the Buffalo trio is, but they connect quite easily.

The puck is stolen by Max and his fast ass has it down the other side before long. He doesn't go for a shot, but gives the attempt to Menlo, who manages to get it by Azure. We trade out and I watch Azure block two more shots while we make two—Noah and Mattias. Shocking.

I swap out with Noah right after Menlo makes his second goal. The end of the first period sees us tied 3-3 with me making one and Larson following it up directly after. For the last minute the two teams move up and down the ice until the buzzer.

We get our asses handed to us in the second half. I don't know if Metro has a switch that they flipped for ‘kick ass' or what, but we barely gain control of the puck for the entire ten minutes. They make seventeen attempts on goal. Lamar's amazing and stops thirteen, but that means they still land four, ending the game at 7-4.

My head is spinning as the buzzer sounds and the two teams pile onto the ice to wave to the fans. Atlantic and Central join us, as do sports anchors, the coaches, and some random people I don't know.

I'm standing near Max when he's talking to a local Florida network, so I can't help but listen.

"You came off a hard year not long ago and have turned your game around. What do these wins mean for you, Max?" he asks, clearly referring to yesterday as well.

"My game never suffered regardless of what was happening in my life," Max answers, not unkindly but also shutting that down. "It's been an honor to be invited to the All-Star Games. While it is a lot of hard work with different challenges than we're faced with everyday, it's also a lot of fun catching up with friends on other teams and showing off our skills in ways that we normally don't get to."

"You mentioned different challenges during these games than you usually face. What does that mean?"

"When you're with a team for a while, you build a routine and rapport with them. A bond. You learn each other's quirks and play style. Here, we're thrown in with ten different players, the majority of which you've never played with, but have played against. It's challenging to turn your mindset around—these aren't opponents right now, they're teammates. I've spent years playing against Larson Faulkner and suddenly I need to figure out how to switch off my strategies that I'd use against Larson and figure out how to work with his strengths instead of trying to counter them."

"It seems your team managed to do that very well," he says.

Max nods, shrugging. "We came together in the end, yes."

"Do you have any plans for the award you've won today?"

"Nah," Max says, laughing. "I didn't plan to win. Of course, it's always my hope and why I work so hard, but there are some amazing athletes here, so I didn't think my chances were all that great. I didn't think about the prizes at all."

"You've been with teammate Deryke Schneider for a couple years now. Is he at home watching?"

"Yes," Max replies. He doesn't elaborate though there's an awkward pause as the anchor waits for him to.

"What do you think he'd say if he were here?"

"He'd say he's proud of our team and that we played really well."

Another pause.

"Do you have any celebration plans with Deryke for when you get home?"

"I'll answer any relevant hockey questions you have, otherwise we're done," Max says.

I snort. Beside me, Noah laughs. I glance toward him, unsure when he moved beside me.

"I really hope he asks Max another irrelevant question," Noah mutters.

We listen for a few more minutes and the anchor seems to have gotten the message loud and clear. The next half a dozen questions are directly related to the All-Star event—the competition, the other players, the event that he struggled with the most…

And then he asks, "There's a lot of gay representation at the games this year. How does it make you feel to have so many of your people competing alongside you?"

Noah's eyes get wide, and I hold my breath. Did he really just ask that? Max just stares at him, and a beat passes before Max turns around and skates away. The anchor remains still for a second, as if not quite comprehending what just happened. As he's turning to the camera, Max is back and grabs the microphone from him.

"It is people like you that make the LGBTQIA+ community remember that a friendly tone does not mean you didn't just hide a slur in your question. We are not ‘gay' representation—we are LGBTQIA+ representation. Do not lump everyone in as gay—that's erasure for everyone who identifies as something other than that and their visibility is just as important as a gay person's is. My people? Do you mean athletes? You must mean athletes because referencing anything else that is a federally protected class could mean a lawsuit, and I'm not sure if you're aware, but that's punishable by law for you and the channel you're here with so I'm confident you didn't mean it as a slur. How do I feel to be surrounded by my fellow athletes? It's just another day at the office."

"Oh no," Noah says as Max turns his attention from the startled anchor to the camera.

"I know we're in Florida and the governor has a stick up his ass as an old, privileged, white man quoting a fucking text, but hear me—are you listening? You can't erase us. You can't force us back into the closet. You can't silence us. You can't shame us. You can't change us. You can force us to fight for our rights, but eventually, you'll die, and the next generation will remake what you're breaking. You can't get rid of us. We are here, we're proud, and we're not going away. It's time you learn some fucking respect."

Max shoves the microphone at the anchor's chest and releases it, leaving the anchor fumbling to catch it. He slips on the ice and nearly falls on his face. Meanwhile, everyone around us just stares at him as Max skates to the chute, dismissing everyone who tries to approach.

Noah and I look at each other.

"He's going to get in trouble for that," Noah says, sighing.

"Why?" I ask. "The douche was offensive. Anyone who has ears can hear it."

Noah sighs as he stares in the direction Max left. Coach Tavis Davenport, Max's coach in Philly, is following now, shuffling on the ice in his dress shoes, which is rather impressive. It's clear he's done that once or twice. Not going after Max, but shuffling quickly on ice in shoes.

Although, he's probably gone after Max a handful of times too. I've heard Tavis is a great coach and a good person. I have no complaints about Arizona's coach, but he's not Tavis. My gaze catches on Adak Nemaczekk following and I smile a little. He's not Adak, either.

"It was," Noah agrees. "But Max is supposed to walk away."

"I'm glad he didn't," I retort, and Noah looks at me with an eyebrow raised. I shrug. "It needs to be said. That guy was making little digs at Max the entire time. He's required to present respectfully, but that doesn't mean he is."

Noah nods. He looks in the direction Max left again. There are others leaving with him; Larson, Azure, Ethan. It doesn't take me long to realize it's the Gays Can Play group. Noah offers me a smile and follows.

An unspoken show of solidarity. My feet itch to follow.

"Laurent."

I turn to see the same anchor approach me, the asshole who Max just told off. A moment of silence falls around me and I realize I have a choice as this guy smiles. He knows I overheard, that I witnessed the entire thing.

"This was a good game for you," he starts, and turns the mic toward me.

There are eyes on me and yet, the arena fades. The lights, the noise, the bodies. I'm left staring at this man who insulted me. He doesn't know he did, but he sure as fuck did.

"You can't possibly think I'm going to speak to you," I say and turn away. I'd tried to keep my face neutral, but I'm also confident I didn't succeed. I could hear the disgust dripping in my tone.

More so now than three seconds ago, I feel the weight of the arena surrounding me. My breathing feels heavy, so I concentrate on my skating. I'm heading for the wrong chute; I know that. But it's about solidarity right now. It's about support. It's the statement of standing beside our fellow athlete more than turning my back on the anchorman.

As soon as I step off the ice, the world tips a little and I'm reminded that skates aren't made for concrete. My hand brushes the open boards and I continue to focus my attention on not falling.

It takes me a minute to reach the end of the chute where I find the others who'd left. Max is frowning as he listens to someone on the phone. Was the interview live? I bet it was. Damn.

Max looks up. His eyes meet mine and then move beyond me. I'm jostled a little and I shift, looking over my shoulder. I'm surprised to see more players filing in. Caulder is just walking through the door and my eyes land on his as if they're magnetic. He gives me a smile as he comes toward me.

It's tight when all four teams press together and I feel Caulder's chest at my back, a mile of pads separating us, unfortunately.

Everyone is quiet while Max is on the phone. He sighs. Rolls his eyes. A glimpse of his trademark amused smile flashes across his face, then he lets his head fall back in annoyance.

"Yep," he says and that's apparently the end of the call. When he picks up his head, he looks around the room at all the faces. The forty-four players, guest coaches, celebrity coaches, referees, even a bunch of arena workers who'd been here for the two-day event and helped get everything set up between events. "Hi," he says with a smirk. "What're we doing?"

"Supporting you," Lamar answers for all of us. "I have no idea what just happened, but I saw from across the ice that something went down."

"I heard the whole thing," Noah admits. "Please tell me you didn't get in trouble again?"

"What happened?" Mattias asks. "I happy to support you and sounds like that man was asshole, but what he say?"

"I got this," Larson calls out and holds up his phone. "My husband just sent me this clip."

The question that the anchor gave Max that made him walk away echoes loudly into the space. Then the silence that follows it. And then Max's angry reply. His words and voice send chills down my spine when I hear them again and I close my eyes, leaning into Caulder. Just a bit.

More silence follows. No one speaks. Then the anchor again but this time, it's not to Max. "Laurent."

The room shifts to look at me. I cringe, my shoulders tensing.

"This was a good game for you."

Okay, I know I'd felt disgusted and I'm quite sure it was reflected in my voice. But fuck, my response was nothing short of clipped, aggressive, and appalled. I wince as my words ring through the locker room.

The clip ends and I wait.

Someone shoves me. Not hard, but enough that I'm forced to open my eyes. Mattias looks at me with a smile. "Said well, my friend."

"That's why we followed you," Ethan says, slapping his stick against Max's. "Laurent's the only one who had the opportunity to tell him off, but rest assured, we'd all like to."

Max smiles a little.

"You in trouble?" Noah asks again.

Max shrugs. "Dunno. Not with my agent or lawyer, though they're on standby."

"With Deryke?" Larson suggests, smirking.

Max laughs. "Maybe. This might fall into the ‘being an asshole to someone' category, though it also wasn't unprovoked, so I might be off the hook."

Tavis rests his hand on Max's shoulder. "I'm proud of you. You weren't disrespectful in any way and still said what needed to be said. This might just be your biggest win this weekend, Max."

The room breaks out in chatter, but I just lean my weight a little further against Caulder. I feel his mouth at my ear. Quiet so only I can hear him. "I'm really proud of you for doing that. I'm not sure I'd have had the courage to."

He's wrong. Had he been there and in my position, he absolutely would have. This has nothing to do with me being gay. Max said what needed to be said. There was nothing that could be added that he hadn't already said better.

This was about supporting Max. Standing by Max.

There's a difference between being a supporter of LGBTQIA+ and an ally to the community. A supporter will agree that you should have every right to love and marry and be who you want to. They're quiet, but they will never stand in your way.

An ally is someone who will fight alongside you. They will help you with your battles because they know you need every voice to make a difference, not just those who are affected.

What I said was as an ally more than a closeted gay man. I was showing the asshole that I stood with Max and the entire LGBTQIA+ community, regardless of my identity within it. Whether Caulder thinks he'd have been brave enough to do the same or not, I know he would have. Because it wasn't about us individually. It wasn't about being pissed off as a gay man that he insulted, even if he didn't know he did. It was about everyone those words affect. It was about doing what's right, not just from the sidelines but on the front line.

The fact that every single hockey player followed, not knowing what was said, but seeing the way Max skated off, gives me confidence that, at least in the NHL, the world is moving in the right direction.