Page 134 of Role Model

And if not, well, Harris was going to be watching the video footage of Troy’s standing ovation roughly one billion times.

His phone lit up with a text from Anna. That was so beautiful what the hell. Are you ok?

Harris grinned. His whole family was at the game, all wearing Troy Barrett T-shirts and waving rainbow flags. Troy had seemed touched and surprised when Harris had told him they were going, and maybe a bit sad. Harris understood, and he wished Troy’s mom could be here. He wished his dad weren’t a worthless prick.

He replied to Anna: I’m not a total puddle yet.

Anna: I am!

Harris laughed, and yes, it was a little wet sounding.

Troy almost regretted being named the first star of the game. He had earned it, certainly, by scoring two of Ottawa’s four goals. They had won the game, and Troy knew he would never forget this incredible night.

But when he skated out to salute the crowd after being named first star, there was another standing ovation that went on far longer than usual. He felt fragile after his emotional roller coaster of a day, as well as the hard-fought game, and this was too much.

There were so many signs. A lot that said We Love You, Troy and Proud of Troy Barrett and similar things. Troy couldn’t really process it.

He gave a final wave and left the ice, eyes burning. He didn’t have enough fluid left in him to cry right now.

The game had been tough because Toronto was a good team, even without Dallas Kent, but they had been unusually quiet. Troy hadn’t gotten the insults and slurs he’d been expecting, and maybe that was because of the fans’ massive show of support, or maybe it was because his teammates made it clear that they had Troy’s back. Maybe losing Kent had taken some of the wind out of the Guardians’ sails. Whatever it was, Troy was grateful. He hadn’t wanted to have to punch someone in a building that was so full of love for him.

The energy in the locker room was sky-high. When Troy walked in, everyone cheered.

“Enough,” Troy said, though he couldn’t stop smiling. “Please.”

Ilya wrapped him in a hug. He was bare-chested, so Troy’s face was mashed against his ugly grizzly bear tattoo. “Amazing,” Ilya said. “Like a Disney movie.”

“The one where the prince gets hugged by a sweaty oaf at the end?”

Ilya released him. “I hope you are ready to talk to the press for hours.”

Troy groaned. The night had been awesome, but he really wanted to go somewhere private with Harris and maybe alternate rounds of sex with bouts of happy crying.

The press did come, and they did want to talk to Troy forever. He answered their questions as best he could, but mostly he was trying to peer through the scrum for Harris. Finally, the cluster of reporters broke apart, and there he was, smiling at Troy and holding a bouquet of flowers.

Troy stood and went to him. “These for me?”

“Nope. But you can have them.”

Troy laughed and shook his head, then kissed his boyfriend. There were catcalls. It also occurred to him that the press were still in the room, and were definitely taking pictures.

“You okay with them photographing us?” Troy asked.

“I am if you are.”

Troy kissed him again. He wouldn’t mind having a professional photo of this moment.

When they broke apart, Troy was surprised to see Remy, the security guard, standing nearby. “Troy,” Remy said, “there’s someone here for you.”

All good feelings evaporated instantly. Troy looked at Harris, who shrugged.

“Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to come to the game,” Troy said. “Why would he?”

“It’s a woman, actually,” Remy said. “Julia Frasier. She says she’s your mom. Your family’s not real big on calling ahead, huh?”

“What?” Troy whispered. He thrust the bouquet back at Harris and took several strides toward the door before he realized how rude that was.

“Sorry,” he called back to Harris. “I love the flowers!”

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