Page 129 of Mending Hearts
He nods slowly.
“And if anyone tries to spin it that way,” I add, heat creeping into my voice, “we shut that down.”
“With what?” he asks quietly.
“The truth,” I say. “You’ve been playing through pain. You’ve been thinking about this for months. This didn’t blindside you.”
He exhales, some tension leaving his shoulders. “I just don’t want people thinking I’m walking away because I got caught,” he says. “Or because I couldn’t handle it.”
“You’ve handled more than most men ever will,” I reply.
His mouth twitches faintly, but there’s still a shadow there. “I worked too hard for this,” he continues. “I don’t want the last chapter of my career to be rewritten by a statement I didn’t even consent to.”
That hits. Because that’s the real wound, isn’t it? Not just being outed. Not just being exposed. It’s losing authorship of your own story.
“We get ahead of it,” I say. “Not reactionary. Strategic.”
Ollie arches a brow. “Since when are you strategic?”
“Since I learned the hard way that emotional chaos is a terrible PR plan.”
That earns me a small smile.
“I’m serious,” I continue. “We talk to Rachael. We talk to Eric. We decide how and when you announce retirement. Not under pressure. Not as a reaction. On your timeline.”
He studies me carefully. “You’re very calm about this,” he says.
“I’m not calm,” I admit. “I’m furious. But I’m not letting them turn this into something it isn’t.”
His jaw tenses again—not in anger this time, but in resolve. “I want to finish strong,” he says. “Play the rest of the season. Be captain. Show up. Not disappear.”
“And you will.”
“And then I retire because I’m ready,” he says firmly. “Not because someone forced my hand.”
I nod. “That’s the narrative,” I say. “And we stick to it.”
There’s a quiet beat.
“You know,” he says after a moment, voice softer, “for years I thought coming out would destroy everything.”
“And?”
“It hasn’t,” he admits. “It’s messy. It’s loud. But I’m still here. The team still has my back. You’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him.
Ollie looks at me for a long moment. “Part of me hates that it happened like this,” he says. “But another part is relieved the secret’s gone.”
That surprises me. “Relieved?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I don’t have to calculate every sentence anymore. I don’t have to lie by omission. It’s done.”
I reach for his hand. “That’s freedom,” I say.
“It doesn’t feel triumphant,” he replies.
“It doesn’t have to,” I answer. “It just has to be honest.”
