Page 15 of Scoring Position

Nico almost couldn’t believe she’d waited this long to ask. Desperate for something to sensationalize, the media had been all over him about what it was like to have another gay guy on the team.

Two years ago, before Nico’s confidence had been ground to dust under the weight of two losing seasons, he’d probably have blinked innocently and said, “Oh, is Wright gay?”

“He’s fine. He’s a good penalty killer.”

Ella made a frustrated noise. “Stop being diplomatic and tell me what he’slike.” She paused. “Is he cute?”

“Ella.” She could use Google as well as the next person.

“He is! But that’s a total overreaction. What’s going on that I don’t know about?”

Nico released his knee and flexed it a few times, exhaling and trying to dispel the tension. “Did you know he has a degree in sports psychology?”

“Oh, acollegeboy.”

Maybe Nico didn’t need to make any more friends. The one he already did have was terrible. “Rees keeps telling me that he’d besucha good guy totalk to.”

Ella cursed. “I imagine you didn’t take that well.”

“How did you know,” said Nico dryly.

There was a pause, which didn’t bode well for him. It meant she was considering how to phrase her next attack. “You never told me why you won’t see the mental-skills coach.”

Sometimes Nico hated being right. “I don’t really want to tell you now either.”

“Nico, I worry about you. Everyone needs to talk to someone, you know? You don’t think there’s anything wrong when I talk to my counselor. It’s not good to bottle things up.”

Nico felt an uncomfortable twinge in his chest. He’d never considered that she might take his own reluctance as disapproval. “I know there’s nothing… I don’t think less of anyone for going to therapy.”

He knew he was in trouble for the inflection even before Ella said, “Youdon’t think less of anyone.”

“Ella—”

“I swear to God, I’m going to punch your dad in the face.”

Nico’s face burned. “It’s not—”

“Not because of him?” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “How long have we known each other? I have met your dad. You would eat nothing but pickled beets for a month”—Nico hated pickled beets—“if you thought it would help you with hockey, but you won’t go to therapy. Forgive me for thinking he might have something to do with it.”

Unfortunately she was right. Nico’s father approved of independence and “mental toughness.” He subscribed to the grin-and-bear-it, fake-it-till-you-make-it school. If Nico wasn’t scoring, it was clearly because he wasn’t working hard enough.

“You wouldn’t have to tell him, you know.”

Nico sighed. “I tried it once. Talking to someone,” he amended. “Remember?”

He’d told a teacher at school that he thought he was gay. He was twelve at the time. His parents hadn’t been homophobic—notreally—but he hadn’t been ready to tell them. That hadn’t mattered to Frau Schmidt, though.

Ella had been there afterward, when Nico had been so angry that he hadn’t cared about coming out to someone else as long as it meant he had someone to talk to.

He should’ve just talked to Ella in the first place. Instead, he’d had to deal with Frau Schmidt calling his parents, and coming home to discover that his parents knew. He couldn’t remember that day without feeling that bone-deep fear that shook him after the moment they mentioned her phone call and before they told him what they thought about having a gay son.

“She was so out of line.”

“I know.”

“Right.” Ella blew out a long breath. “I know that you know that, but do youknowit?”

“Ella,” Nico grumbled. Did that even make sense?

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