“A torn Achilles isn’t usually career-ending at your age. Why can’t you play again?”
“I was good, but I wasn’t AHL good. I was a leading scorer and one of the best forwards on my team. But there are better, more consistent forwards. And yeah…just saying that out loud hurts. I think I’m a cautionary tale in what happens to guys who believe their own press. I assumed with a little extra hustle and grit, I could make miracles happen. I didn’t count on being sidelined with multiple concussions, and I sure as fuck didn’t count on tearing my Achilles in the middle of what was supposed to be my final season.”
“That sucks.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but that wasn’t the worst part.”
Cal massaged my calf sweetly. “What was?”
“I got dropped by the agent who’d supposedly been about to score a contract for me with the AHL. My parents thought he was full of shit. I didn’t know what to think. It’s like getting run over by a car, and thinking at least you remembered to write the license plate down…just as a Mack truck comes from the opposite direction to finish the job.”
Cal smiled wanly. “Gory.”
“That’s how it felt. I couldn’t catch a break. Injury after injury, watching games from the sideline while these dreams I’d had forever”—I snapped my fingers—“evaporated.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
My pulse revved at the casual term of endearment. I wondered if he even realized he’d called me babe. I let it go and continued my tale of woe.
“Me too. I didn’t graduate with my class, I didn’t get recruited, I didn’t…matter anymore. But my coach insisted that I come to the games. That gave me hope. Until I found out that having the out gay dude on the bench was somehow a PR boost. How ironic is that? The one thing I assumed I’d have to hide was the only reason they wanted me in the end.”
“So you were out in college?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Yes and no. A couple of teammates knew, but no one talked about it. No one cared and when they tried to show support, they added my homo-ness to the list. It was…weird. Jarring, ya know? On one hand, I wasn’t trying to keep a big-ass secret, but I thought I’d be the one to do the coming out.”
Cal went still. “You mean you were sitting on the bench with a cast on at a game when they started flying Pride flags in your honor?”
“Yep. They weren’t chanting my name or anything, but yeah…that was for me. I wasn’t sure what to think about it. My friends and family have known I’m gay for years. This wasn’t a coming-out moment for me. It felt more like I’d been used by the program. They couldn’t use my hockey prowess anymore, but they could use the press. A diversity shoutout made them look like stars for supporting a queer athlete as he retired from the game. Fuckers,” I huffed. “After that, I couldn’t wait to get out. My parents suggested that a change of scenery would do me good.”
“Long Beach?”
“Exactly. I moved here in June and spent the majority of my summer screwing my brains out while high, drunk, or both. I thought I was having fun, but I was self-medicating…trying to forget what I’d lost.” I sucked in a deep breath and rested my hand over his. “Then I tried surfing, and everything changed.”
Cal leaned in to stroke my cheek. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. And I’ve learned a lot. Waves and wind don’t adjust to my timeline. I can’t rush the process or will myself to be more than I am. It’s the most humbling sport I’ve ever tried.”
“You went from being an expert to being a novice. That’s pretty damn brave.”
“Brave? I don’t think so. I think of it more like going into therapy with nature.” I snorted dismissively. “Nah, that sounds dramatic—”
“No, it doesn’t. Surfing is good for the soul,” he said with a smile. “I bet you feel that way about being on the ice too.”
I shrugged. “I used to, but I haven’t been on skates in a while. I think I’ve been angry at hockey. I’ve felt cheated, like the game owed me something and didn’t deliver. I’m just beginning to clue in that I was never owed anything. Now it’s up to me to figure out what happens next. Maybe I can find something in hockey. I can volunteer with a youth team or hell, do office work for an organization. I’m open to ideas. It’s just helpful to think that I don’t have to walk away entirely.”
“Have you thought about joining a club team? Scouts might not notice you, but you could still do something you love. I’m sure there’s something like that around here. Ask Colby.”
“I will.”
“Good.” Cal grinned as he leaned in to kiss me. “You’re pretty fucking special, Luca. I know you’ll be amazing at anything you try, baby.”