Drumming on the table in our Houston hotel room, I waited beyond nervously for Cude to stick a towel under the door and deadbolt the room shut.

  We were taking no chances that anyone would hear, even if we both knew this was bound to get heated. Somehow, Cude and I were roomed next to Scott and Brock so we did not need to worry about someone listening in on the adjoining door. Just that we had to hope no one was walking in front of our rooms as either of us shouted something incriminating.

  I could not get a read on Brock’s facial expression as I stared him down. We were really doing this. After winning Game One by a score of 4-2, we dropped Game Two 3-1. Winning one on the road was more than enough to guarantee us home ice for the rest of the series, but it was clear that all four of us had something on our minds in Game Two. Scott and Brock were on the ice for two of the three goals, and Cude missed a key defensive coverage for the third. So, our brawl would come on the eve of headed back to Olympic City for the next two games.

  Winning Game One meant we were going to do this now anyway. There was no reason putting it off in Houston anymore. We were away from home, there was no where to hide, and we had two teammates shielding us so the rest of the team did not need to find out. I like Cude and Scott, they were the chiller members of the Core Four compared to Brady, but I did not really know them that well. That was by my own hand, but still coming out to two teammates immediately presented a risk. I was more nervous about that than I was trying to solve anything with Brock. We’d have it out and we’d either break up or it would ideally bring us back closer together. They were right this needed to be resolved. But you never know how a teammate is going to react when you mention you’re fucking the team’s top defensemen, and oh by the way I am actually a girl hiding that fact from everyone as we py the biggest games of our career every night.

  If Brock harbored any of the same fears and anxieties as I did, he certainly was not showing it. The scowl on his face was perpetual, ever since the four of us convened and prepared for this moment. Nice job Rhea, you had a dream retionship and managed to kill it within the first three months of it. That’s got to be a nd speed record.

  “Alright, so, Scott and I were thinking since we have volunteered to graciously host this brawl that we would offer up some information as colteral to show you how serious we are that nothing said here would ever get out,” Cude said, clearly trying to end this little tense stand off and kick this thing off.

  “That seems…generous of you,” I said cautiously.

  “Right. So, again. None of this leaves the room, under penalty of death. I’m serious, this is ‘ruin your career’ type stuff.”

  “Of fucking course.”

  Scott cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m not going to make you swear an oath or anything, Cude might, but.”

  “Hey. Its okay, I promise you it won’t be the most surprising thing to come out tonight.”

  “Don’t be so sure Jamie,” Scott said, as I visibly winced at him using that name. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, we’ll get to it. Just out with it.”

  “Fine. Eager, much? Anyway, I guess here it is. Cude and I have been hooking up all season.”

  “Oh, nice,” I said. Trying to py it off like it wasn’t earth shattering information. Cude and Scott? Together? A couple? Well he said hooking up. I wonder if he was downpying it to make Brock and I feel comfortable.

  “That’s it?” Scott said puzzled.

  “Yeah, I mean. Its surprising. But its not like, the most earth shattering information you could volunteer at this moment?” That would be reserved for when I come out you morons.

  “What Marksy is trying to say is, yes its a big deal, but neither of us would judge you for a second about it,” Brock jumped in, clearly doing damage control from my little faux pas.

  “Okay. Cool. I mean, you never know how people are going to react. You two gave off a vibe of chill,” Cude said, clearly trying to rex after the pair of them were just outed to someone who was recently described as “the team hermit,” and a new arrival that no one truly knew yet.

  “No, definitely. Luckily for you both, you’re not the only pair of people hooking up on this team,” Brock responded.

  “What do you mean hooking up?” I shot back with air quotes. Oh, it was on.

  “We’ll get there Marksy.”

  “No, not we’ll get there. We’re being honest right from the fucking start. We were or were we not dating?” I could see Cude inhale deeply at the words starting to get biting.

  “We are, Marksy. I said we’ll get there. I was just trying to set the mood being light.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Okay, I’m going to step in for a second,” Scott said. “Thank you for offering that info so we’d feel better, but also, bud. You can’t just try to match what I said without giving the actual context. You’re here to talk it out.”

  “Thank you!” I yelled, probably a little too loudly.

  “Hey, Scott, we said we weren’t going to take sides,” Cude said.

  “Yeah that’s right! You’re not helping,” Brock shot back.

  “Okay, okay. Enough!” I yelled. “We’re not going to have this devolve into a fucking four way brawl. I’m going to share my version of the events. Then Brock will share his. That way you two have all the context. Then we can go from there? Is that fair?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Before we get into the whole thing, there’s some things you all need to know. First, yes Brock and I have been dating, since the end of the regur season. Things have kind of gotten tense since after the division semis, which is why we’re all here. But, there’s also something else that’s kind of big too.”

  That got Cude and Scott’s attention.

  “Brock is straight.”

  “Okay then how does this work?” Cude asked.

  “Brock is straight, and we are going out because I’m a woman.”

  Silence. Dead fucking silence.

  “I’ve known that I was trans since my sophomore year of college. Jenna, for a long time, was the only one who knew. When she unexpectedly showed up here, that circle started to broaden a little bit. In the organization only Cra, the assistant athletic trainer, knows. Well, and Brock. I’m going by the name Rhea, and I am not on hormones. So you don’t have to worry about any of my performances being impacted. I am rgely presenting as a woman at home and when I’m alone with Brock though, which is why I’ve been kind of . during the pyoffs. Well, and because we had been spending a lot of time together.”

  “So let me get this straight. When I saw Brock in Boise?”

  “Yes, Cude that was me.”

  “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

  “Well this is not what I expected you to say Rhea. Now, I see why Brock always insists on calling you Marksy.”

  “You should tell them how you picked your name,” Brock said quietly. He had his head down while I was saying this, probably from a mix of nerves admitting to two teammates that he was dating the team’s closeted trans woman, and because our fight started to seem a little less significant now that we were sharing the really heavy shit.

  “Yeah, I want to know!” Scott said, a little too eagerly.

  “Uhh, alright. Well Rhea came from Rheaume,” I said.

  “Oh, Manon. That makes the most sense,” Cude said. “She’s a legend!”

  “That’s adorable. And very you, Rhea,” Scott said giving a warm smile.

  “Okay, so, like, we all understand how grave the situation is about any of what was shared today getting out is?”

  Everyone nodded. I was kind of gd that this mutually assured queer destruction was happening before we started brawling this out. I knew that nothing was going to come out from this, except, well, the actual coming out that was taking pce.

  “Yes, but before the season is over I need to see you all dolled up, its not fair that Cudey got to see it before me.”

  “Cudey?”

  “Yes, Rhea. You’re not the only one with pet names I’m sure.”

  “I still can’t believe the fucking quiet one on the team is the one with the juiciest gossip.”

  “Cude. Not the point babe. We need to let them sort this shit out.”

  “I know, I know. My mind is just blown from this.”

  “Same, but there’s still a palpable tension here between the two of them. We need to cut the shit and let them go at it.”

  Babe. Scott was calling his hookup or date or whatever the fuck two gay men refer to their retionship as, already. Just seconds after knowing they were in the presence of other queer people , and sorry Brock that includes you since you were crushing on boy-me, it was like the pair of them let their guard down. I’m gd that we weren’t the only ones having fun int hat wretched city that was Boise fucking Idaho. God, can you imagine that the most conservative pce we py, our apparently gay-ass team was defiling the lord’s name while celebrating an impending pyoff run. It was enough to almost bring a smile to my face before Brock butted in.

  “Okay, keep going Rhea. As cute as this whole thing is becoming, I still want to get this fucking over with so we can get back to Oregon ideally not fucking pissed at each other anymore.”

  “Fine, pretty boy,” I said, accentuating those st two words. “You know what? I just expended a whole lot of fucking mental energy coming out, so why don’t you tell the css what I did to have you jam a stick so far up your ass its come out your mouth the entire st series? Seriously, I thought we talked about this.”

  “No, you talked about it. And made a decision to put your career at fucking risk in order to chase some minor league hardware. When we all know you’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

  “Do I now? And you know what my career pns are?”

  “Yeah, of course. Its every fucking kid’s dream to win a Cup in the pros. Don’t be stupid.”

  “Well, pns change.”

  “What do you fucking mean pns change?”

  “I mean, my career likely isn’t going to be as long as yours.”

  “What do you mean, even backups have long careers in the NHL when they’re as good as you, Rhea.”

  “And did it ever cross your mind that I may fucking want hormones sooner than when I’m 40?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “You don’t seem to be acting that way.”

  “Well, I figured you would at least give it a few years in the pros before you made that decision. Give yourself the shot at the Cup like you’ve always wanted.”

  “You’re doing a lot of talking about my career path, when you’re not the one dealing with living two fucking lives every day. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe I am starting to realize I can’t keep this up for a few more fucking years?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Really? Because it seems like you have my NHL career mapped out ahead of you. Like any of it is a given.”

  “Well none of it is a given if you’re going to self harm by pying hurt and risk your entire fucking hockey future.”

  “And who says that’s what’s happening? Do you have my medical records? Because if so that’s a giant fucking viotion of my privacy, and I’m pretty sure a fucking crime.”

  “No, of course I don’t. I just know what its like to be this fucking shortsighted and cavalier when its comes to injuries and your future in this sport. Before I went to Shattuck for my senior year, I tore my ACL. I lost my entire junior year of high school, when colleges were looking at me. Not that it fuckin’ mattered because Descartes was looking at me when I was 12 years old because my entire family went there. But I thought I lost it all, and boy did that hit me fucking hard. But it also made me realize something, hockey had taken over my identity. It was all I had. It forced me to talk to other people in school and become an actual person. Did you know I was a math major in college, Rhea? Because I would never have been without that year off rehabbing. I realized just how much I loved the subject and did the Math Club for a year.. Its probably why my thinking on the ice got so much better before I went to St. Mary’s. I learned to think a different way. But also, more importantly, it made me realize just how much I actually loved hockey. It wasn’t an obligation anymore. I wasn’t trying to be the second varsity athlete at Descartes my father produced. I got to miss the game on my terms. But, I was also 16 and I had time to come back. Who says that’s a given if you seriously blow out your knee now? And on the cusp of making the NHL? What’s to say you won’t live a life full of regret watching others get what you denied yourself because you were being selfish now.”

  “Selfish? Brock, I think you projecting your injury experience on me, and not even knowing the pain that I’m forcing myself through is a little selfish when considering its my body I am choosing to put on the fucking line.”

  “I know what that pain is, Rhea. Did my sister ever tell you how she came out to me?”

  “No. We aren’t that close yet.”

  “Weird. She usually tells it the first time she sees people. Especially trans people who she can rete to. Anyway, my sister was on track to make the U.S. Olympic Team her senior year of college. Trials were right after NCAAs and she was prepping hard to win a national title, then show up and sweep everything in Eugene before going to the Games. What I didn’t know, was just how fucking hard she was pushing herself as she was pushing her identity down further and further to avoid dealing with it. She was perpetually injured that year and kept it fucking secret from everyone. So, about three weeks before national’s she’s practicing her pole vault form because its probably her weakest event out of the 10, and her knee just fucking explodes. Like its gruesome. Her career is done, everything she’s work for evaporated. We’re not talking she can come back in the next cycle and have time to rehab, she was lucky she can walk to this day. Now, I’m rehabbing my knee and trying to rete to her, because she’s five years older than me. But I’ve never seen anyone so fucking despondent. She came home to get the surgery done in Boston because Descartes is in Western Massachusetts and I just saw the life in her eyes drain. She was a shell of a person, just no longer wanting to live. And I thought she was going to kill herself. Then one day before she went under the knife she sat me down and told me that she was trans, and the only reason she was telling me was because she wanted one person on earth to know who she actually was and who knows maybe she doesn’t wake up from the surgery. But she told me after she was denying herself who she was because she felt she needed to do everything she could in order to make that Olympic team. It was her only drive in life, and when that was gone she felt she had nothing else. So she had to tell one person about herself just in case something blew up. So, I’ve seen what being in the closet can do to an athlete, especially when they’re self harming by avoiding injury prevention. I know its not the same for you Rhea, but I fucking worry okay? You were so cavalier about yourself and just saying it was going to be fine. But what if it wasn’t? What if it all goes away? And what if I lose you to yourself and we don’t come out of it? I can’t lose you, I fucking love you.”

  There it was. The l-word. He fucking dropped the l-word on me during a fight.

  “Brock, are you just telling me you love me because we are fighting and you are scared that we can’t communicate?”

  And there it was. I pushed the bruise, except this time it was a fucking open bullet wound.

  “No, of course not. How could you say that?”

  “Because we are in a giant fucking fight right now, so big that teammates had to fucking out themselves to moderate it.”

  “Okay, yeah. I see how it could come off that way. But its genuine.”

  “And even if it is, the first time you told me you love me will always be from you being backed into a corner in a fight.”

  “Fuck.” He looked like someone just kicked his puppy into a vat of acid.

  “Fuck is right! But lucky for you, I fucking love you back, okay? So don’t go using these kind of situations and emotions as manipution to have an excuse to say it. Just tell it to my face?”

  “You…love me back?”

  “Of course I do, you fucking goof. But that’s not the point. And that doesn’t fucking absolve this whole thing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Brock, you need to fucking tell me these things in the moment. Not let it fester like this. I’ve been fucking worrying myself the past few weeks because you won’t TALK to me. If you had said this from the start, yeah I’d have possibly been annoyed and upset in the moment, but I also would have gotten it. This is not your sister’s sports career, or your sports career. Its fucking mine. And I want to do it on my terms. And my terms right now are I’m doing this clear headed and have a fucking team around me making sure I don’t push myself too hard and destroy my knee, and that includes YOU. Now, I’m going to be mad that it took this to get us to say I love you to each other, but I fucking adore and love you, you absolute dumbass. But being Rhea only to a few people? That’s been hard. Its doable because I have you. Not because its the right move. But I don’t know how much longer I have it in me to keep it up. But I do know I have this pyoff run, and I have enough knee stability to push through this series and the next.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it.”

  “I mean what do you want me to say?”

  “Fucking sorry for one! And not just because I said this! I will apologize for not taking your concerns as seriously as I should have in the moment, but I need you to stand up and apologize to me and promise me that we’re going to be on each other’s team going forward. No matter how contentious it gets. Because I fucking love you, okay? And I know its fucking quick and I don’t care if it hurts us more. I love you Brock Lazenby.”

  Brock thought about saying something before he got up and walked over to me and enveloped me in a hug.

  “You’re right, and I am truly sorry. We won’t do this again. Well we’re going to fight again because we’re strong willed people. But we won’t let it get this bad.”

  “Promise?” I said looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

  “I promise to do my best.”

  I just sunk my head into his neck and gave him a peck.

  “Okay, we are celebrating this now that we’ve got this out of the way,” Cude said pulling out a bottle of what looked like brown liquor in a gss maple leaf.

  “Cude, we’re going dry for the pyoffs,” I said.

  Before I could say that maple liqueur sounded absolutely disgusting in the moment, he threw the bottle at me.

  “Alcohol free, Crown Royale Maple Whiskey? Are you fucking serious?”

  “Drink up boys, and girl. We’re going home,” Cude shouted and grabbed the bottle back to start pouring.

  The next three games unfolded like nothing else. My knee was acting up at times, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

  Our py though, just felt effortless. Houston had nothing on us, and when we got back to Oregon they were chasing not only the rest of Game Three but the rest of the series.

  We won Games Three through Five by a combined score of nine to two, with me pitching a Game Five shutout to seal the deal.

  We had done it. We were going to the UHL Finals, after being at the brink of elimination the first to series. The locker room was euphoric. We were on cloud nine, it was the best we had ever been. The champagne was flowing and we were all drenched. Even those of us going dry, had a few gsses in the locker room because how could we not. We went from barely making the pyoffs in the final week to winning the fucking Western Conference Championship. No one can take that away.

  Now, we just had to win four of seven games to bring the Commissioner’s Cup to Olympic City where it belonged.

  We flew back that night on a special chartered flight from our owner so that we wouldn’t have to spend another second in godforsaken Houston than we needed to. We had about four days before the Finals were to begin, possibly five if St. John’s and Portnd, Maine not Oregon, and yes it is confusing that both Portnd’s have teams in the minors, went a full seven games. St John’s had a three games to two lead, but in this league nothing is guaranteed.

  Ad hoc celebrations happened the next day we nded, and a rge portion of us ended up at Markus’ the first opportunity we got. Now, Brock and I were still honoring our commitment to go dry for the pyoffs, but the atmosphere was just too jovial to stay away from. Jenna and Sam may have been working, but they managed to give me some huge congratutions and well wishes when I wandered from table to table of different groups of my teammates.

  “How’s your knee?” Cra managed to sneak up on me to ask.

  “It’s…stiff.”

  “Do Brock and your teammates know?”

  “They know its been wonky, but I probably have undersold how bad it has gotten at times.”

  “You really need to get it checked out the day after the Finals are done.”

  “Absolutely. Its a short offseason no matter what now, I’ll have it ready by training camp if it even is anything. It could just be general swelling remember.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m not trying to bring the mood down either…I just wouldn’t be doing my literal job if I didn’t pester you.”

  “No, no. You’re right. And thanks.”

  “Of course. You have a lot on your mind, so that’s what I’m here for.”

  “Yeah, that’s for sure. Brock and I told Scott and Cude about me in Houston.”

  “Rhea, what the fuck.”

  “Don’t worry. Let me just say its cool. Plus, it helped relieve a lot of tension, just like, in my mind. I th ink that’s why we stomped them the st three games.”

  “Alright, if you say so. Just, be careful okay?”

  “I’m more careful about that than my knee, don’t worry.”

  “That’s a problem!” She said as I chuckled walking back to the table with Brock, Cude and Scott. I had found my people. We were pying for a championship. Things were looking like they had rgely settled into pce.

  “Yo, Marksy!” It was Brady. I hadn’t seen him all night. “You didn’t tell me your parents are in town, they’re hirious!”

  I’m sorry, what.