When Ash gets on the ice for his next shift, he steals the puck from one of the Boston players and gets his own breakaway. I watch him skating fast but gracefully. When he gets a good opening, he takes the bar down shot, aiming over the goalie’s shoulder on the glove side, hitting the bar, which causes the puck to ricochet into the net. The goalie doesn’t stand a chance to stop it and the horn goes off, indicating the goal.
The team picks up on the high energy for the rest of the period and our captain scores two back to back goals as well, which puts us in the lead by one.
Everyone is raving about Ash’s ability to make plays out of nothing when we get to the second intermission and I can’t help but be immensely proud of him.
The third period starts out hot when one of the Boston players boards our captain. It takes him longer than it should to get up, but thankfully he doesn’t need a stretcher to get off the ice. This gives us a five-minute power play when the ref calls out a major penalty for boarding.
The team quickly capitalizes on it, Ash scoring another goal almost immediately, followed by another goal by one of our defensemen. In the end, we win by four, which is a huge feat against Boston, and especially with our captain getting injured.
Our coaches congratulateus and the locker room is loud and buzzing with excitement as we begin to undress. Juuse asks me if I want to go out and celebrate, but he doesn’t hear my answer. He’s looking down at his phone and his face drops.
“Shit,” he says, somberly.
“What?”
He looks back at me apologetically and now I’m starting to get nervous. A few other phones ding in the room and everyone seems to be reading the same thing, based on the same surprised faces I see in the room.
I look at Ash and see he’s gripping the phone hard, his jaw clenched and eyes furious. He pins his gaze on me and I freeze. I reach for my phone to see what is going on, but Juuse snatches it from my hand.
“What the fuck?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to read it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Is it about me? Is that why Ash is mad? I swing back to look at him and see he’s marching over angrily. I think he might get all up in my face, but no—he goes right up to Juuse and shoves him away from me.
“Woah,” I say, trying to get between them but Ash gives me a look I haven’t seen in a while. He looks angry, protective, and also hurt at the same time.
“What is going on?” I ask, looking between them.
“Are you two gay together?” one of the guys behind me asks and I swear I can feel all the blood drain from my face. I freeze up and look at Ash, then again at Juuse.
Did one of them tell someone? Is that what this is about?
But no.
Ash wouldn’t do that to me. Not again. Not from his reaction—Ash is pissed and looks on the verge of punching Juuse. I look at my friend and see a sad expression on his face. Sad, but not guilty.
“Will one of you tell me what’s going on?” I manage to say, doing my best to ignore the whispers behind me.
Ash hands me his phone and hits play on a video. It’s from earlier today at the deli and it shows Juuse patting my hand and winking, clearly flirting with me. I look happy in the video too, laughing and smiling back. I swipe around, seeing more pictures of us on this stupid blog that focuses on hockey scandals. They’ve ruined more than one career in the past and I’m starting to panic that this might be it for me.
I can’t focus on reading the whole thing, but I pick up on certain words that stick out—newbie, goalie, couple, spotted together. From what I gather, the article is speculating whether or not Juuse and I are a couple, and drawing their own conclusion that—yes, we are indeed. I don’t make it to the comment section because Ash gently covers the screen with his hand and takes his phone back.
While I’m grateful, I feel like I might either pass out or throw up at any second. I glance behind me and see everyone staring at us.
“Well, is it true?” Mackenzie, one of our defensemen asks me.
“What the fuck does it matter if it’s true or not?” Ash asks hotly. I give him a pleading look, silently begging him not to get in a fight with a teammate on his first day up at the NHL. But as always, Ash doesn’t take the hint.
Mackenzie looks taken aback but says, “Calm down, newbie. We’re just curious. And it’s not about you, anyway.”
Ash takes a step forward, positioning himself in front of me and says, “No, but indirectly, you’re making it about me too. I’m bisexual. I want to know why you’re socuriousto see if it’s true or not. Does it bother you to have a gay or bi teammate?”
There’s complete silence in the locker room, and Ash continues. “How exactly does my sexuality affect the way I play on the ice? Do I score fewer goals if I also have sex with other guys? Am I somehow less of a player?” He lets the questions hang in the air for a moment, and when no one answers, he says, “Well, I’m not. So I ask again, why does it matter if the stupid article is true or not? You have two of the most amazing goalies in the whole fucking league right here. You should be supporting them, not questioning what they do with their own personal lives.”
Mackenzie looks down at his feet, and if it were any other situation, I would laugh at this 6’ 8” man looking chastised. But not everyone in the room has the same reaction to Ash’s words. Some of them look angry, but not angry enough to say anything back, and others look at us head on, nodding along.
Our head coach steps in, having listened from the door. He looks around at all of us and points at Ash. “You heard him. We’re all a team here and if you want to make it to the fucking playoffs this year, you need to be a cohesive unit. If any of youhave any issues, you come to me first and we’ll discuss them. Otherwise I expect you all to be courteous and respectful to one another. Understood?”
