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We climb into the lounge chairs, side-by-side, and kick back on the roof of the hotel. I can't believe I haven't been up here before – it's a great spot, the chairs are comfortable, and we've got a great view of the early morning sky.
The wind picks up as the storm rolls closer. It's blustery and our shirts flap in the wind, but the breeze is a few degrees warmer than the night air, so it's a welcome treat. Feels kind of amazing, actually.
“I can't believe you really wanna know all this.” I stall for time. I'm still working up the courage to tell him. Only a few friends back home know. And they're all girls. I've never had to tell a guy this about me before.
“Are you sure you wanna know?” I ask again.
Vance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, man. How many different ways do I gotta ask?”
“You're not gonna tell the team anything?”
“Hell no. That's not for me to tell.”
Why couldn't he have been my captain instead of Burky? ... none of this would've ever happened.
“Alright, fine. Here goes.”
***
LIKE I SAID, I WAS 13 when I started questioning myself. It's weird how fast it happens. I remember sixth grade – it was like our last year of innocence. All the boys and girls in my class were into things like sports, playing outside, flying kites, looking for rocks, jumping into streams and getting muddy as hell ...
Then sixth grade is over, and we have our summer vacation, and we come back and it's seventh grade. And suddenly, there's this feeling that everything is starting to change, that the rug is being pulled right out from under you. You dunno what it is, but it's happening whether or not you want it to.
The girls grow up first. Over that summer, they started developing, growing like weeds – and developing way faster than we were turning into men. And the girls start dressing like it, too.
But us boys, haha, I don't remember us looking different at all after that summer. We were still the rambunctious, immature little shit-heads.
The girls were suddenly interested in us in a big way. They wanna hold our hands. They wanna go on 'dates,' they wanna write our names in white-out on their backpacks with a little heart around it, they wanna go to school dances. They wanna kiss.
And I just remember this – this feeling – that us boys weren't actually ready for all the stuff that girls were wanting to do. But we went along with it, right, because we had to. This was like, our training wheels at dating. The girls were interested in us and we weren't crazy about it. They seemed to make everything harder.
But I went along with the craze. I thought I had to. I was a popular kid and girls wanted me so I did it. I had myself a few girlfriends, and any of them could tell you – I was a terrible boyfriend, man. Totally wild and unpredictable, always wanting to do my own thing and not spend time with them. All I wanted to do was be with my friends.
Except now, with all of us having girlfriends? It was harder than ever to get all your boys together and hang out with them. Without a girl being around. And then the dynamic changed, we weren't the same, fun-loving, trouble-making group of wild boys. Nick wasn't Nick anymore – he was Nick plus Megan. And Nick plus Megan was totally different than Nick, by himself, the hilarious guy who will do anything for a laugh ...
Nah, now Nick was a mushy, soft, sensitive guy. A guy I couldn't relate to. Not just Nick – all my friends.
That was a weird year, honestly. The girls were ahead of us, no doubt. Us boys just pretended like we understood what they were going through, what they wanted to do, the way we felt about each other. But deep down we felt like frauds, playing the role of a suitable boyfriend.
I thought that feeling would go away in time. And, as time went by and years passed, I was right – in a way. I saw it with my friends. They started to catch up with the girls. They wanted them now like the girls wanted us.
But I didn't. I kept waiting for the day to come. I almost feared it, too.
Except ... it didn't come. And then, uh, y'know, I started to develop myself. And I discovered myself. And the things I thought about weren't the things that the other boys talked about. Which, at that point, all they talked about was usually 'giant knockers.'
No ... for me ... it was muscles. Something about a man, a man without a shirt – with a big, hulking chest. His muscles rippling, sizzling, covered in oil. That's what would flash through my mind.
It scared the hell out of me at first. Try as I might, giant knockers just didn't appeal to me.
But I was also insanely obsessed and busy with hockey – so I really buried myself in that. I figured if I got good enough, if I made myself into a famous hockey star, it wouldn't matter who I was or what I liked ... everyone would accept me because of how I played hockey.
(Ha. Yeah, right.)
I got older, and by the time I was 16, I knew I had to leave home if I ever wanted to move forward. Making the jump to Junior was the best thing for my career, I thought. I could play against bigger boys – men, really, and develop my game.
Plus, I needed a new start. Because by age 16, I knew I was into guys. For sure. And I needed to get out, had to get away from all my friends and their girlfriends and the girls who kept pestering me for dates. I couldn't tell them my secret!
So, I dropped out of school and joined a Junior team. I left my Grandma's house, moved outta town, moved in with a billet family. They were real nice – the Johnsons – and adopted me like I was their own son. The dad was really into training, and he worked with me every night. Showed me how to work out, how to build my body to be the best hockey player.
They also had a son. Bryce. And guess who got to share a room with Bryce – me, of course! The bottom bunk was his. I got the top.
I took one look at Bryce the day I moved in. And I can't describe in words what I felt – only that something deep inside me knew. It was like we were supposed to meet like this. There was something in his eyes, something that instantly clicked with me – and it was like time slowed down, and I couldn't breathe. But somehow in a good way.
Bryce's family didn't know about him. Or maybe they didn't want to know. I'm not sure.
But that first night? I was supposed to sleep in the top bunk, like I said. Well – that night I didn't sleep in the top bunk, catch my drift?
Most nights, in fact – I didn't. Honestly, I dunno how we didn't get caught.
All good things come to an end, though. When we turned 18, Bryce came out to his friends and family. He'd been telling me he was planning on doing it. I froze with terror, and I begged him not to. I told him I couldn't risk being seen with him if he did. But he did it anyway.
His parents freaked out. They 'let' me sleep on the couch from that point on. I didn't want to – but I had to. So that was the end of that. Because obviously I couldn't be with Bryce anymore. He was pissed, and hurt, but thankfully he didn't blow my cover – he knew what my career meant to me. Enough that I was willing to sacrifice us.
Bryce moved on. He started bringing around his new boyfriends. I'd see them make-out, I'd hear them fuck when Bryce's parents weren't around. Drove me goddamn crazy.
But that was the sacrifice I was willing to make. And I thought I could go through my career without giving in ... without anyone finding out. And at first, I could. I was just so excited to be where I was – playing hockey at this level, earning a big paycheck.
But slowly, once the novelty of being a pro started to wear off, the urges started to creep up on me. No one wants to be alone.
I can do this, I thought. No one has to know. I can be discreet.
So I hit up the clubs on the road, when we visited other NHL cities. Never in Winnipeg. That was too risky; too many people knew my face. Always on the road.
And, well, time passed and soon, I did what I swore I'd never do – I took risks. I got sloppy.
That's when Burky found out. So here I am. The rest is history.