The adjustments we'd made between games.
The power play.
The penalty kill.
The questions came one after another, and I answered them the same way I always did.
Then somebody near the front raised a hand.
"Thane, you've had a lot of attention on your personal life over the last couple of weeks. After the losing streak, there were plenty of people suggesting it had become a distraction. Any thoughts?"
A few reporters glanced up from their notes. The question wasn't surprising. I'd heard versions of it for days. Sometimes directly. Sometimes disguised as something else.
Usually, I gave the same answer. The professional answer. The safe answer. The one that kept the conversation moving.
For a second, I thought about doing that again.
Then I pictured Kieran sitting upstairs. I pictured him standing in his apartment three nights ago, trying to convince himself to walk away before I could hurt him. I pictured the look on his face when he told me about Janelle. About all those years he'd spent believing that when life forced a choice, he would never be the one people chose. Something settled inside me. Not a decision. I'd already made that. More like the certainty that comes after one.
I leaned forward slightly. "There's been a lot of discussion about my personal life lately. Most of it has been speculation. Some of it has been wrong. What hasn't been wrong is that I'm seeing someone."
The room grew noticeably quieter.
"He's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. His name is Kieran."
Pens started moving.
Phones lifted.
Nobody interrupted.
"A lot of people have asked whether he's become a distraction. He isn't. The truth is that Kieran isn't something I have to fit around the rest of my life. He isn't competing with hockey. He isn't competing with my career. He isn't competing with my future."
I paused. Not because I was searching for words. Because I wanted to get this part right.
"He's part of all of it."
Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. For the first time since the question had been asked, the room felt completely still.
"I love hockey. I love my team. I love my family. And I love him too."
The words came easier after that. Maybe because they were true. Maybe because I'd spent too much time being careful.
"I am proud to love him. And I'm done acting like that's something I need to keep quiet."
The silence stretched another second.
I looked around the room.
At the reporters.
At the cameras.
At the people waiting for me to say something clever.
Something polished.
Something safe.
