Page 144 of The Blame Game

“Surprise! Welcome to the team!”

Dom groaned when he walked through the locker room and was greeted by the enthusiastic shouts of his teammates and an explosion of color around his stall. Goddamn it.

“I’ve been on your team for years,” he groused.

“Yeah, but now you’re officially on the queer team!” Matty said cheerfully. “Ryan Hartinger and I got into an argument this morning on the Out in the NHL group chat about it but I’m totally right that the Otters have to hand over the title for Queerest Team in the NHL to the Fisher Cats.”

Dom didn’t want to know what the fuck that entailed so he ignored Matty and batted away some rainbow-hued balloons as he walked toward his stall.

“So how are you figuring the numbers, Matty?” Nico asked.

Of course the two of them were in cahoots.

Matty cracked his knuckles. “Okay, so the guy has to be active on the NHL roster and have publicly acknowledged their queerness. So right now, Evanston has Shane Hurst, Jamie Walsh, Gabriel Theriault, Kelly O’Shea, and Trevor Underhill.”

“Right, so that’s five,” Nico said.

“Ooh, he can count to five!” Colton chirped. “Pretty impressive for a hockey player.”

Dom let out a quiet snort.

Matty continued. “So now we’ve got Dustin, Jonah, Felix, you”—he pointed at Nico—”me and Dom. Which is six. If I did my math right.”

“You mathed right,” Nico agreed. “So yeah, we obviously have them beat. I don’t get his argument that everyone in the organization counts.”

“Right?” Matty said, holding out his hands, palms up. “Thank you. Like, that’s cheating to include Zane Murphy, Lance Tate, and Noel Sutton in the count.”

“Who the fuck is Noel Sutton?” Dom asked, confused.

“Stats guy, he’s dating Shane Hurst.”

“Right.” Dom shook his head. “How do you even know this?”

“Dude, the text chat! Which you would know if you’d accept the invite to join that I sent you yesterday,” Matty shot back. “It’s fun! It’s like the most sarcastic support group ever.”

No, that sounded like a little slice of hell to him. Even if he had noticed the invite in the sea of messages he’d gotten lately, he would have ignored it. Who fucking cared who was queer and out?

Except, apparently, literally everyone but him.

“Do we have anyone else in the Fisher Cats organization?” Jordan asked thoughtfully. “Like, head office and shit?”

“Well, several,” Dustin said. “If you’re including support and office staff. Darla, one of the scouts, is married to a woman too.”

“You’ve also got me.”

Everyone turned to face their backup goalie.

“What?” Jesse said when they all gaped at him. “Didn’t you know?”

“Uhh, no,” Matty sputtered.

“Since when?” Colton narrowed his eyes. “I was forced to watch you make out with two women the last time we were in a bar on the road.”

“Since when does liking to make out with women make me ineligible to be queer?” Jesse said, crossing his arms. In no shirt with his goal pads on, he looked ridiculous.

“Thank you!” Nico said. “There will be no bi/pan erasure in this locker room!”

“Okay, fair,” Colton said, holding up his hands. “And I didn’t mean it that way. Birdie is bi and she’d murder me if I did anything to invalidate that because we’re together. I just didn’t know you were so inclined, Webby.”

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