Noah
I pace outside the hockey locker room while Ethan's inside, unable to hear anything through the door except muffled voices, unable to do anything but wait and imagine every possible reaction, good and bad, cycling through my head on a loop.
He comes out ten minutes later, and I search his face for any sign of how it went before he even reaches me.
"How'd it go?"
"Better than I expected. Mostly supportive." He exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "One guy went quiet, didn't really react either way, but nobody said anything cruel. Marcus backed me up the whole time, which helped."
"That's good. That's really good."
"Your turn," he says, and I feel my own nerves spike all over again, because I know my team's a different environment, a little more image-conscious, a l
