28. Christian

Christian

The only thing more nerve-racking than being called into that theater was being called into one of the conference rooms.

I'd been confused and uneasy earlier, wondering why in the world anyone needed the equipment staff to join the team to review film. I'd guessed once my father had walked in, but I couldn't stop him.

Now I was terrified of what was going to happen next. Yes, the team had rallied around me and Theo, but the powers that be probably weren't happy that an employee had been banging a player. Least of all when that relationship had resulted in the whole team and staff turning on the GM. Causing waves that size was not going to go unanswered.

Which meant that, more than likely, one or both of us was fucked. Most likely me, since I was a lot more replaceable than a player who was notching points like mad for this team. Even with the support of Theo's teammates, the suits didn't have a lot of tolerance for people who rocked the boat.

So, my days—hell, my hours—with the Seattle Rainiers were likely numbered.

At least I'd managed a moment alone with Theo. I'd pulled him aside after he'd geared up for practice, as he was heading for the ice.

"Are you okay?" I'd asked.

"I'm good. Just… kind of trying to process."

"Same." I'd squeezed his hand. "I'm sure the fallout isn't over, but I'm glad the team has our back."

"Me too."

Then he'd had to join his teammates for practice, and it wasn't long at all before I was summoned upstairs.

When I stepped into the room, Bruce, the team's president of hockey operations, sat at the table beside Jerry Vincent, who I'd met briefly in the past. Jerry was part of the group that had majority ownership of the team, and he usually came in as a representative when an owner's presence was needed.

His presence in this meeting… did not bode well.

"Have a seat, Christian," Bruce said. "Thank you for joining us."

I took a seat in the single chair across from them, and I pretended I wasn't about to throw up all over the giant table. Today had been a disaster, and I doubted it was going to improve before I left this room.

"So, in light of what's happened," Bruce said, "we've consulted with our legal team, who has agreed that while your father was ostensibly enforcing a rule, the way he went about it was highly inappropriate and unacceptable. As a result, he has been asked to resign as general manager of the Rainiers."

I closed my eyes and exhaled. I didn't even want to imagine how this was going to affect my family. Dad would be insufferable when he got home. Should I text Mom and Chelsea to give them a heads up? Maybe suggest they pick today to be anywhere but home?

Before I could make a decision in that regard, Bruce continued. "On behalf of the Seattle Rainiers and the entire organization, I want to apologize for what you and Mr. Mathis have been subjected to. It's not behavior that we condone or allow."

I nodded and murmured, "I appreciate that," but my guard was still firmly up. There was a "but…" coming. I could feel it.

He didn't keep me waiting.

"The problem is that we reviewed the rules and bylaws that players and employees are expected to abide by." Bruce grimaced, and my heart was sinking even before he went on. "And there is a clause in there that explicitly states that fraternization of a romantic or platonic nature between employees and/or contractors is grounds for termination. Specifically, about employees and/or contractors fraternizing with players."

My heart hit the floor. "Oh. I…" I sagged back against my chair. "I probably knew that. I just…" What? Forgot? Never committed it to memory because I never thought it would affect me? And I wasn't sorry. Maybe sorry I broke the rule and had undoubtedly just gotten myself fired, but I wasn't sorry for what I'd done. Finally, I went with a quiet, "I don't have any excuse."

"We don't expect you to." Jerry sat up a little and folded his hands on his notes. "But after talking with the staff—including the coaches and some of the players—we can't deny that you're an invaluable member of the Rainiers. Arguably more so than your father has ever been."

I blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Bruce nodded. "It's been said that equipment managers are the unsung heroes of this sport, and you've made it very clear that's more than just lip service." He gave a quiet laugh. "Quite frankly, we would be stupid to let you go."

I wanted to be relieved by that, but the other side of the coin was plainly obvious, and I swallowed hard. "You're going to send Theo back down, then." I winced. "Please don't punish him. You've seen how he's played since he's been here. He deserves a shot on—"

"We know," Bruce said quietly. "Mathis has put up impressive stats since he's been up. Condit and Coach Baldwin have both raved about him and told your father repeatedly that we need to keep Mathis up even as injured players have been reactivated."

Pride swelled in my chest. God, I was so happy for Theo. Every minor league player knew they had to shine when they came up, and he'd done that in spades.

My smile fell before it really came to life. "So Theo is valuable on the roster. I'm… you don't want to let me go." I shrugged tightly. "What happens next, then?"

The two men exchanged looks.

"Well," Bruce said. "We discussed it, and we realized that even if Theo wasn't an up and coming star, and even if you weren't a very popular and competent equipment manager, the rule is… unfair. It's an overstep of the organization."

"It… It is?"

"Yes," Jerry said. "So to answer your question, what happens next is that we change the rule."

My lips parted. "Really?"

"Yes," Jerry said. "It was written with the intent of avoiding interpersonal conflict and conflicts of interest, but we realize now that it is perhaps more draconian than necessary. After all, everyone—staff, players, and what have you—fraternize on a regular basis. It helps to promote a good atmosphere in the locker room. So if we were to enforce this rule for you and Mr. Mathis, then we would also have to crack down on the friendships forged between others employed by the organization. Quite frankly, that would be detrimental to the team, and it would diminish the camaraderie that we believe is necessary."

"Oh" was all I could think to say.

"It'll take some time," Bruce warned. "It needs approval by all the majority owners, not just Jerry, and we'll discuss it with the team. The league and the players' association will also need to review and approve the change. All we ask during that interim is that you and Mr. Mathis keep your relationship out of the public eye. Once everything has been approved by all the necessary parties, then you'll be free to be open and public without consequence."

I swallowed. "That's… Yeah, we can do that." I huffed a relieved laugh. "We've been doing it all along, so…"

"All right. Well." Bruce nodded sharply. "We'll keep you apprised of everything that happens. Hopefully it won't take long."

"Hopefully," Jerry confirmed. "And on behalf of the Seattle Rainiers organization, I again want to sincerely apologize to you and to Mr. Mathis for what happened today. This is not who we are as an organization, and going forward, I assure you, there will be zero tolerance for that kind of behavior."

"Thank you, sir," I said quietly.

There wasn't much left to discuss after that, so they adjourned the meeting. Before I left, they came around the table, each offering me a handshake.

"Thank you for this," I said. "I know twenty years ago, things would have played out very differently, but—"

"Fortunately," Jerry said, "that was twenty years ago. Times have changed, and the Seattle Rainiers are determined to keep up with them."

"I appreciate that." I paused. "And, um… if it's not pushing my luck to ask… Is there any chance we can reinstate Pride Nights?"

The other men exchange glances, and there were some shrugs.

Jerry looked up at me. "We'll certainly discuss it with the team for next season."

I smiled. "Thank you, sir. It means a lot to the community. I know there's backlash and people who complain about it, but our community—we really appreciate it."

"That's good to know, kid. Thank you."

I gave him a quick smile and a nod, and then I stepped out into the hall. I paused outside the door just to let the relief and adrenaline crash over me. I'd been so certain that Theo and I were both epically fucked, but the team—including the higher ups—had rallied around us in ways I'd never anticipated. Sure, I knew the guys would intervene if someone tried to gay bash me in a bar, and I knew the higher ups would do lip service in favor of Pride, but this? Players openly demanding trades if my father wasn't fired? The brass changing rules so that Theo and I could still be together? We could be out together? Publicly?

Fuck. I was dizzy from all these emotions rushing through me. I'd known I was stressed over all of this, but I hadn't known just how stressed until all that weight was suddenly off my shoulders.

No more walking on eggshells.

No more working for my father.

No more keeping my relationship with Theo a secret.

Once the league and players' association had approved the rule change, we could be completely out and open about being together. The men we worked with—the players, the staff, the executives on high—didn't object.

Holy shit. We made it. All we have to do now is—

"I hope you're happy." My dad's voice cut through my thoughts, and my eyes flew open as he stalked toward me. "This is your fault, you know. Entirely on you. You flaunting your lifestyle all over the place cost me my job. Do you realize—"

"You're the one who showed that video," I threw back, and I said it fearlessly because goddammit, this man couldn't do anything to me anymore. "You aren't getting fired because you have a gay son. You're getting fired for—"

"Don't you talk to me that way!"

"Or what?" I glared at up at him, gritting my teeth just to keep them from chattering because oh, fuck, I really was standing up to my dad. "You gonna fire me? Ground me? Disinherit me? You can't do shit to me anymore, Dad."

He gaped at me. His face was beet red, his lips pulled back across his gritted teeth. "You ungrateful—"

"Fuck off," I snapped. "You brought this on yourself, and I'm not—"

"Mr. Hayes." Bruce's voice was sharp and hard.

I spun around to face him, apologies at the tip of my tongue, but before I could speak, I realized he wasn't looking at me.

He meant the other Mr. Hayes.

Striding closer with Jerry behind him, he growled, "I will not have you harassing Seattle Rainier employees."

"This is a conversation with my son," Dad said. "It's none of—"

"He is an employee of this organization," Bruce pushed back. "You, on the other hand, are not. I would suggest you clean out your office and leave the premises without harassing any more of our staff, or else I will be happy to have Seattle P.D. join security in escorting you out."

The shocked expression on my dad's face was a sight to behold, and I didn't care if it made me a bad person—seeing him like that was so fucking satisfying. He'd bullied everyone in his vicinity his whole life, and now he'd been stripped of the one and only thing he actually cared about: power.

In silence, and without giving me another look, he turned and walked back to his office with his proverbial tail between his legs.

God, I wished I'd filmed that for posterity.

Bruce put a hand on my shoulder. "I apologize for this, Christian. Again, behavior like his will not be tolerated in this organization any further."

I swallowed against an unexpected lump in my throat. "Thanks."

It really was over. Dad had no power here anymore. He couldn't touch my career or Theo's. He couldn't do a damn thing to stop us from being together and living our lives.

It felt like I'd been holding my breath not only since I'd started dating Theo, but ever since I'd started working here, terrified to make a move or even a noise because Dad might shout at me or fire me.

Today, right now, I could breathe. Fully and freely.

And I needed to go find my boyfriend.