Page 93 of These Wicked Games
I throw my stick, my stomach clenching with the agony roaring out of my friend. “What the fuck.” I grab Rome, punching him. His gloves drop and I can’t see shit. A blow to my cheek, and I’m punching, and punching. He’s even bigger then I am, but it doesn’t stop me from landing several more punches. Rome is a son of a bitch, but I think I see something close to remorse in his pale blue eyes. “You’re going to fucking pay for that!” I growl, winding up to hit him again when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Oli, don’t,” Andre whispers. I turn to him and look at my friend. Atlas is at his side while medics assess the damage.
Rage weaves through every molecule of my blood. “You’re going to get yours.” I point to Rome. “You will, you evil son of a bitch.” Rome’s pale eyes lift to where my friend is screaming. His mouth drops open, but he shakes his head, skating off the ice.
Andre tugs me back as I lunge again. “Come on.” Taking several heavy breaths, I skate over to Grey who’s still howling.
“Stretcher.”
“What?”
Atlas is still crouched over Grey. “We need a stretcher. Everyone clear the area.” When everyone steps back, I see his knee, his leg at an odd angle. He must have hit the ice, knee first. The impact alone should have knocked him out.
Finally they get Grey on the stretcher, and I’m taken back all those months ago to Rocky being carried out against the same team. The Vipers are a notorious brawl-heavy team, but this is a sick coincidence. My eyes search the crowd for Rome and I can’t find him.
I’m going to kill him.
Grey’s normally sun-kissed skin is pallid with a green tinge to it. “I’m going with him.” I hear Atlas.
“Atlas, they need to take him. We still have a game—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the game, Oli!” His electric eyes brim with unshed tears. “I’m going with him!”
“Hey, hey!” I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. “They need to get him out of here with no interference. He needs to get checked first. You’ll just be in the way. After this is over we’ll go to the hospital. I promise.” Atlas won’t meet my eyes, watching Grey being wheeled off the ice to an eruption of cheers. I slap hischeek lightly to get him focused on me. “We’ll go as soon as we can. Okay?”
His eyes glaze before he nods and pulls out of my hold. This is a shitshow.
I skate over to our bench where Coach is talking everyone through a play. None of us are feeling it. I’ve never seen Grey cry like that. I feel something at my back before I turn to see Andre’s glove on my lower back. He’s listening as we get our direction, and it hits me so fucking hard right now. I don’t know why.
We reset, and I take one look back at Andre, knowing what I have to do.
I tense in front of the microphones. My mind is still mostly on Grey and nausea clenches my stomach. I’ve never heard him scream like that, and I know it’s going to haunt me. Paired with the look on Atlas’s face, I just feel sick. I need to do this, though. I want to do this. We won. Though I don’t think either our team or the Vipers had wanted to continue the game. Rome was ejected and suspended for ten games. It’s justice, but it feels weak.
As soon as I’ve showered and changed I’m going straight to the hospital. Atlas raced off as soon as we got off the ice, and I hope he’s with Grey now. While I’m shaken, it took being shaken to realize the truth.
I’m in love with Andre and I don’t want to let him go. I want the world to know it, and fuck anyone who has an issue with it. My job is secure. I’m an amazing player, and my real fans will stick by me. Seeing the signs tonight, the support in most of them filled my cup so full.
Shit happens randomly, and I don’t want to waste another second without letting everyone know who my heart belongs to. I don’t give a shit who it makes uncomfortable or how many fans I lose. If they hate me because of this, I don’t want them as fans anyway.
I’ve spent so long trying to fit what we have into a nice little box, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters. Your life can change so quickly in this sport. I’m not wasting any more time. With that thought, I swallow, and wait for the chatter and clicks of cameras to stop.
I know Andre’s in the locker room now. I just hope he’s watching this. Melanie steps up to the microphone, waiting for the whispered voices to stop. “Oli is going to make a quick statement and answer three questions only. None of them related to Andre or the disgusting invasion of privacy our athletes have faced. And as of right now, we do not have an update on Greyson’s condition.”
“Thank you,” I say to her.Here goes nothing.“A couple of weeks ago my privacy was invaded. I just want to say that legal action is pending. While I am a public figure, I’m a private person, and I deserve as much privacy as any of you. I was also outed before I was ready. No one should have to go through that, let alone publicly.” No one should have to come out before they’re ready. No one should have to be forced to define something before they evenknow themselves. I don’t know what label I fit into, and I don’t even care.
I love Andre. Simple as that.
No one has ever made me feel even a sliver of the things I feel for him. Gay, bi, pan . . . It doesn’t matter to me what label the world will give me. I’m simply his. “It’s a reprehensible thing to do to anyone, no matter their celebrity status or tax bracket. I’m very fortunate to have the support of my team and friends, but not everyone has that privilege. Outing people has dangerous consequences. While I will be fine, the next person who has their privacy ripped from them may not be.”
“Oli, has your team found the ones responsible for breaking your privacy?”
“Yes.” I tamp down my annoyance at the interruption. “This is the only time I’ll make a statement like this, and going forward if you ask any of my teammates questions about their private lives and or sexuality, you will be barred from the Otters’ press rooms.”
I take a breath, ignoring the soft murmur that goes through the crowd. “Yes, I am in a relationship with Andre Tavares. Yes, it started after he was traded, although we’ve known each other since we were kids. We used to play on the Titans together. We used to be friends and now we’re more. I will continue to be captain for the Otters and successfully lead us to the playoffs. Who I’m in love with has nothing to do with the sport I play.” That’s it. The dice can fall where they please. I am done giving a shit what anyone else thinks. Melanie leans in. “Questions?”
“How do you feel about your team and their stance on the LBGTQ? Will you be holding more charity events to support the community now that you’re part of it.”
What kind of question is that? “I’ve always been an ally to the community. You don’t need to be part of it or know someone who’s part of it to be supportive and advocate for a minority group. In fact, I welcome all of you to advocate. You shouldn’t have to know someone or be part of a cause to support the cause.” I need to calm down a bit. These reporters are already pissing me off. “And no. The Otters as a whole have always prided ourselves on being an open team that support the LBGTQ+ community. I am very lucky to have a team of supportive people behind me.”
