Page 38 of Interference

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. About six months ago. We’ve, uh…” He closed his eyes and sighed before turning an utterly exhausted look on me. “Things have been rough for a while. He moved into one of the spare bedrooms for a few months. Then he decided he needed some actual space, so now he’s renting a place in Bellevue.”

I almost whistled at that. Rentals in the Seattle area were obscene on a good day, and Bellevue was stupid expensive even by Seattle standards. Though Anthony and Simon were professional athletes who’d been able to buy a house in Medina, so sticker shock probably hadn’t been an issue.

“But you guys are still together?” I asked.

“In theory, I guess?” He laughed almost soundlessly. “The whole point of him moving out was to give us both some breathing room so we could work on things, but…” He trailed off as he shook his head. “We haven’t made much headway.”

“Damn,” I whispered. “Sorry to hear it.”

Anthony took a deep swallow of water. As he leaned forward to put the glass on a coaster, he said, “The worst part is that I can’t figure out if the problem is us.” He sat back again, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head on his fist. “Or if it’s the pressure our team is putting on us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simon and I are the first out couple on the same team in the League,” he explained. “We’re not the first queer players by any means, but there weren’t any teammate couples before us. When we came out to the club, they told us in no uncertain terms that if our relationship caused any issues on the ice or in the locker room, one or both of us would be gone.”

I stared at him. “They’d just… kick you off the team? Because you and your boyfriend had a fight?”

“Not… I mean, it’s not that simple. And we’d still play hockey—just not on this team. They’d either trade one of us or… Well, they probably wouldn’t drop either of us down to the minors. Just trade us. Or waive us.”

“Waive you? What does that mean?”

“It’s…” He pursed his lips. “Basically, when they put a player on waivers, they’re telling all the other teams, ‘he’s yours if you want him.’ If someone grabs him up, then he just plays on that team. If they don’t, then he either goes to the minors, they trade him, or they terminate his contract.” Anthony paused. “It’s not quite that simple, but that’s the basic idea.”

“Wow. And they’d do that to one or both of you if you just had a fight or something?”

He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “They’d let it slide if we just had an off day or something. Teammates don’t always get along. It is what it is. But we’ve both been afraid to push it, you know? Like what if we’re having a minor rough patch at the same time our GM has a hair up his ass and wants to make a trade?”

“So you guys had to walk on eggshells ever since you came out.”

“Pretty much,” he said softly. “Our team—they don’t even know we’re living apart.” He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “We’re really good at putting on the ‘everything is great’ face around our teammates. And the cameras.”

“Jesus,” I said. “That sounds like a ton of pressure.”

“It is. And it also turns out that people being more accepting of queer players is kind of a double-edged sword.”

“How so?”

“As soon as we came out, we got some backlash, but we also got a ton of support. And that support turned into people putting us on a pedestal. We ended up becoming the poster boys for queer players.” He rolled his eyes and reached for his water glass. “Half the players in the women’s pro league are engaged or married to each other, but the men’s league? It took us so fucking long to even be able to come out, so everyone either hates us for being queer, or they go so hard as allies that they put a ton of pressure on us.” He turned to me, his expression sad and tired. “All we wanted to do was be a couple and not hide. Now we have to hide when we go through normal couple problems.”

“Damn. That sounds miserable.”

“It is.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand onto the cushion beside him. “I love what I do. Don’t get me wrong. But this whole celebrity thing?” He shook his head. “It’s fucking bullshit. I didn’t sign up for that.”

“I’ve heard people say being famous is overrated.”

“It’s highly overrated. And we don’t even have it as bad as the baseball and football stars, never mind actors or musicians. Aside from the really big superstars, we can mostly go about our lives without people giving us a second look. Like, we get noticed sometimes, but it’s honestly pretty rare.” He sighed, deflating against the cushion. “Or at least it was until we came out as a couple.”

“Were you already out as… I mean, were you already out individually?”

“Simon was.” A fond but sad smile crossed Anthony’s lips. “He’s been out and proud since he was in major juniors. I had a girlfriend from high school through my rookie season, so there wasn’t really any need for me to come out. After she and I split up and I started dating a guy… I didn’t want to hide. I’d never had to before, and I didn’t want to start then, so I came out as bi.”

I nodded as he spoke. “So it was kind of need-to-know for everyone else.”

“Exactly. And no one needed to know until I met Darren. When Simon and I got together, we kept it on the DL for a little while because we didn’t know if we could date teammates. There weren’t any rules about it, but that didn’t mean it was allowed, you know?”

I chuckled cautiously. “I distinctly remember one of my supervisors telling my platoon that just because there wasn’t a rule explicitly forbidding something didn’t mean it was allowed.” I rolled my eyes. “Not our fault the Army didn’t think to tell us—a bunch of bored teenagers and twenty-somethings—that, no, we were not allowed to surf on the backs of trucks or on top of Humvees.”

The laugh that broke through his funk made my breath hitch. “Oh my God. You guys really did that?”

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