Page 129 of Role Model

“This is the best movie I’ve ever seen,” Troy said, as it played for the second time.

“Yeah, well,” Dykstra said as he stood and patted Troy’s shoulder. “Let’s hope it has a happy ending.”

As soon as Wyatt and Dykstra left, Coach Wiebe walked over to Troy. “It’s something else, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s, um. I can’t believe it, really.”

“I think this should keep Crowell off your back. I’m sure he blames you for this in his twisted way, but what can he do? It’s a legal matter now.”

Troy wasn’t sure Crowell would back off, but at least this would make it harder for the league to defend Kent.

“Are you okay?” Coach asked, and Troy was surprised to see concern in his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kent was your friend,” Wiebe said simply. “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt conflicted about this.”

“I don’t,” Troy said quickly. Then he acknowledged the knot in his stomach. Dallas wasn’t a good person, but he’d been Troy’s first friend in the NHL. Most of Troy’s good memories with him were tainted now, but they’d spent many hours in hotel rooms and on planes talking and making each other laugh. “Maybe a bit. I don’t know. I shouldn’t feel bad for him. It’s just weird, I guess. We were tight for a long time.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to stop caring about someone, no matter how much you know you should.” The way Wiebe said it made Troy think he was probably speaking from experience, but he didn’t ask.

Instead he just said, “I’ve got better people to care about now.”

“Wow,” Troy said. “This is really...professional.”

Harris chewed his lip, unsure if Troy liked the video or not. It was the morning of the Pride Night game, and Harris had barely slept because he’d been working hard on the video, obsessively tinkering with it to make it perfect. Now they were standing beside each other, hunched over Harris’s computer monitor in his office. “If it’s not how you pictured it, I can change it.”

“No,” Troy said quickly. “No, I like it. I’m just kinda blown away. Like...you made this.”

“We made it.”

Troy shook his head. “You filmed it, edited it, and basically wrote the words I’m saying. You made it.”

“I didn’t write what you’re saying. I just helped you tweak it a bit.” Harris’s heart sank. “I didn’t steamroll you, did I? This is so personal and I don’t want it to feel like—”

Troy stopped his babbling by putting his hand on top of Harris’s. “I love it. It’s just a little surreal, watching it. Watching me say those words.”

The video had featured Troy talking over some footage of him playing hockey, and doing some of the off-ice community stuff. Harris had included video footage from the team’s hospital visit, Troy and Ilya’s Christmas photo shoot, Troy playing with Chiron, and from team practices, as well as some game highlights. He’d cut it with video he’d shot of Troy sitting in the same chair he’d sat in when he’d done the Q and A video. His voice was steady and strong as he told the world that he was gay, and then explained why he was choosing to come out now.

It was a good video. Harris knew he had done a good job, and he was proud of Troy for deciding to make it. It had been a really tough season for Troy already, and this would no doubt complicate things even more. But Harris was confident that Troy’s decision would ultimately make his life better.

“So, um,” Troy said, standing back from the desk. “When should I post it?”

“It’s up to you. You could post it now, or this afternoon. Or right before the game.”

Troy stared into the middle distance as his jaw worked.

“Or,” Harris added, “you don’t have to post it at all.”

Troy’s gaze snapped to Harris. “You worked hard on it, though. You were up all night.”

“Not all night.”

“I woke up a million times last night, and every time you weren’t in bed.”

“Okay, fine. I could use a nap, sure. But you don’t have to post it. Really. If you’re not ready—”

“I’m ready.” Troy sounded so sure, and Harris felt an intense swell of affection rush through him.

---