Page 128 of Role Model

“Of course not.” Troy’s gaze snagged on Harris’s scars. “Everything okay?”

Harris folded his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah. Just a routine checkup. I feel great.”

“Good.” Troy was super late, but he spared a moment to give Harris a proper goodbye kiss. “See you later. Dinner tonight?”

“Yeah. There’s a Lebanese place I want to take you to.”

“Sounds good.”

One more kiss, and Troy began his mad dash to the arena.

Troy was late, of course, but Coach just waved him in without comment. Again, Troy marveled at how different he was from every coach he’d ever had.

The meeting was mostly positive, and Troy could feel the excitement buzzing in the room; there was a very good chance that the Ottawa Centaurs were going to the playoffs for the first time in over a decade. Even a couple of months ago no one would have believed it.

Despite Coach Wiebe’s upbeat energy, Troy had a hard time concentrating on the video clips he was breaking down. Lately Troy’s brain seemed to be full of nothing but Harris, little floating hearts, and creeping anxiety about Pride Night. The game was in three days, and he still wished it were against anyone other than Toronto.

But he was also determined. He knew he didn’t need to come out publicly, and he certainly didn’t have to announce it with the video Harris was helping him put together, but he felt it was the right decision. Once he did this, it would be over. Everyone would know, and he wouldn’t have to worry about people finding out anymore. That energy could be spent on creating positive change in hockey, and in himself. It could be spent on loving Harris. Because he was pretty sure he had a lot of energy for that.

When the meeting was over, Wyatt turned around in his chair and, with a big grin, asked, “Did you hear the news?”

It took Troy a moment to remember Bood and Cassie’s baby. “Yeah! It’s great.”

“I know. I’m stunned, honestly. But, man, he fucking deserves whatever’s coming to him.”

Okay. That was a weird way to show excitement for someone becoming a father. “I...guess.”

Dykstra, who was sitting next to Wyatt, said, “I hope he never plays again.”

What the—

“Why do you hope that?” Troy asked, beyond confused.

Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “I assumed you’d feel the same way.”

“Are we talking about the same thing? Bood, right?”

“What?” Dykstra asked. “No—why wouldn’t we want Bood to play hockey again?”

“I don’t know!” Troy said, exasperated.

“We’re talking about Kent,” Wyatt said.

Troy’s heart stopped. “What about Kent?”

Wyatt and Dykstra grinned at each other. “You didn’t hear?” Wyatt said. “He got charged. Five women came together and pressed charges. He was arrested right before this meeting.”

“What?” Troy couldn’t believe it. Was Dallas actually going to get punished? He knew that being charged didn’t mean he’d be convicted, but still. This was huge.

“Amazing, right?” Dykstra said. “Those women are brave as hell.”

“Yeah.” Troy reached into his pocket for his phone, then realized he’d forgotten it at home in his rush to get to the meeting. Harris must have sent him a million texts about this already.

“Is there video footage of Dallas being arrested?” Troy asked, because he wasn’t entirely a nice guy. Not yet.

“Hell yes there is,” Wyatt said, and held out his phone so Troy could watch the short clip. There was Dallas Kent, head down, expression dark. He looked more annoyed than anything, like he expected this to all be over soon. Troy desperately hoped it wouldn’t be.

And, holy shit, this meant Dallas wouldn’t be playing in the Pride Night game. It was a selfish reason to be excited, but damn. What a fucking load off.

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