He raised his head and looked out at the cameras pointed his way. “Jake, Roy, Mary, Janet, Stevie? I am still your big brother. Right now I’m broke as f—” He corrected himself. “Extremely broke, because I’m just in the ECHL, but I’ll be in the NHL soon, I promise. And once I have money, I’m putting aside a college scholarship. Any of you who want out of Kansas? You call me or come find me, and I’ll get you out. Even before then, if you need a safe place to go? I’m your place. They can keep me from contacting you when you’re minors, but they don’t own you, or me. You need me? I plan to be real easy to find. You need help? You have mine.”
“And mine,” Cross said into his mic. “While it may take a couple of years for Rusty to get to the NHL, I’ve been earning millions for years. So yeah, Rusty’s siblings, if college is your dream and you can’t get there on your own, or if you need a safe space, we’re family too.”
Rusty’s throat tightened. He and Cross were going to have to have conversations about money down the road, but for this? Rusty would take Cross’s dollars. His heart ached. “Mike would have been applying to college right now,” he said. “Getting in everywhere, too. He was wicked smart. And cool and funny. Mike was the best of all of us. It sucks that my brothers and sisters are being told more bad than good about him. Mike was gay, but that was the least important thing about him. He was a musical genius, he was great at math, he could work with his hands, he rescued injured animals.” Rusty blinked hard and looked directly at the camera again. “If you kids want to find out the real truth about your big brother Michael you can ask me that too. I’ll tell you about the guy we should’ve had anotherlifetime to tease for wearing mis-matched socks, and listen to solving the problems of the universe—” His voice gave out with a squeak there.
The reporters looked up at him, silent for an instant, and he realized that was probably way TMI. He leaned against Cross’s shoulder and rasped, “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to hijack your coming out.”
“You didn’t.” Cross set a hand behind Rusty’s head and kissed him, soft and fast, right in front of those cameras. “I’m so sorry you lost your brother.”
“Yeah, well.” He rubbed his face and turned back to the reporters. “Anyhow, that’s how I came out. Big stupid drama. But this? This is just Cross and me, falling for each other.”
Before anyone could ask another question, Vail stood up. “I think that’s enough for this morning. LaCroix will be available on a limited basis for one-on-one interviews at a future date. Contact me if that’s something you would like to pursue. For now, let’s just all wish LaCroix and Dolan the best, and hope for a great next season for both of them. Gentlemen?” She gestured toward the back door.
Rusty was very ready to be done. He would’ve given Cross a hand up, but if the team was still playing “he’ll heal up and be back soon,” Rusty didn’t want to mess that up for them, so he waited and let Cross lever to his feet on his own. The reporters called out more questions, mostly harking back to the kidnapping, as they filed out the door at the back, but Vail went ahead of him, and Cross close behind kept him moving. Amy brought up the rear.
The back door opened into some kind of hallway. Vail turned to them. “That went okay.”
“Sorry,” Rusty had to say.
“No, it was good. Gave them something to think about.” She sighed. “It will give the nastiest of your opponents something to chirp you with, though. The name Mike and gay slurs won’t be fun.”
“I’ve been getting shit all year. I can take it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. But there’s a reason we had Edison miked up all season and let the opposing teams know.” She patted his arm. “I’ll give the Tornados media office a heads up.”
“Uh, you mean the Gryphons?”
She grinned. “I’ve seen your stats. I have faith in you. And Cross, I’ll be in touch when I’ve fielded some of the interview requests. We can discuss strategy.”
“Okay. Shana, thank you for the help.”
“Anytime. Well, not literally. Let’s try to keep the major media events to one a season.”
“Or less,” Cross suggested.
“Less works for me.”
Amy said, “Come on this way, guys. I’ll get the valet to bring your car to a side door.”
Ten minutes of navigating the halls of the hotel, and they were back in the Porsche and on their way.
“Where to?” Rusty asked as he paused the Porsche at the exit from the parking lot.
“Let’s go for a drive,” Cross suggested. The skies had cleared while they were in the hotel, bringing a summer warmth to the air. He explained to Rusty how to lower the roof, and a softbreeze cooled the sweat on the back of their necks as they left the hotel grounds.
Rusty drove to Cross’s command, winding back through residential streets and eventually following a paved two-lane up a small rise. A dirt road led off into the trees to their right and Cross said, “Take that.”
“It’s your undercarriage.” Rusty slowed and turned in between towering pines.
“We’ll be fine. I’ve been this way before.” Cross draped an arm out the side, flipping his fingers in the air current as the road twisted on itself.
“Better hope we don’t meet anyone.” The gravel was smooth enough, but single-car narrow.
“What? Farm boy can’t back down a lane?”
“Not in a hundred-thousand-dollar car.”
“The road opens up at the top.”
