Mag-log inThe days after the press conference were strange. Eli expected backlash. He expected hate mail, cruel comments, teammates looking at him differently. Instead, something unexpected happened, people were kind to him. Fans sent messages of support and encouragement. Other players reached out to share their own struggles. The league issued a statement praising Eli’s courage. His parents called not to disown him, but to ask if he was okay. His mother cried. His father was quiet. But neither of them hung up. “We did not know,” his mother said. “Why did you not tell us?” “I was scared,” Eli said. “Of us?” “Of losing you.” She was silent for a long time. Then she said, “You will never lose us. You are our son.” Eli cried after that call. He cried for a long time. Mack was not there but Eli wished he was there with him. ~~~ Game Two was four days later. The Thunderbirds were down 0-1 in the series. Lose this one, and they would go to Edmonton facing elimination. The p
The morning after the panic attack, Eli woke to a storm of notifications. His phone would not stop buzzing, texts from teammates, missed calls from his agent, emails from reporters he had never heard of. The headline was everywhere "Thunderbirds Goalie Collapses on Ice, mental Health or Something More?" Eli stared at the screen. His hands were cold, his chest tight again. He wanted to throw the phone across the room. But Mack's voice echoed in his head. We need to get ahead of it. He called his agent. "Eli, thank God," the agent said. "The team wants you to do a press conference today, try and control the story." Eli's stomach dropped. "What do I say?" "The truth. You have been under pressure, your brother has been blackmailing you. You had a panic attack. People will understand." "They will also judge me." "Maybe. But it is better than letting them guess." Eli closed his eyes. "Okay. Set it up." ~~~~~ The press conference was scheduled for noon. Eli arrived a
Game One of the playoffs was the loudest thing Eli had ever heard. The arena was fully packed and the crowd was screaming. Every hit, every shot, every whistle echoed like a gunshot. Eli stood in his crease, his heart pounding, his gloves sweating. The Oilers were fast and aggressive. They crashed the net every chance they got. Mack was on the ice, clearing bodies, blocking shots, doing everything he could to protect Eli. But the pressure was suffocating. Daniel’s words echoed in Eli’s head. You are going to need luck. His brother had not texted today. That was worse. The silence meant he was watching and waiting. The first period was scoreless. Eli made twelve saves. His hands were steady, his breathing was controlled. The second period started. The Oilers came harder. A defenseman crashed into Eli’s crease, knocking him off balance. Mack shoved him away and took a penalty. The Oilers scored on the power play. Eli let the goal in. It was a soft goal. One he should have stopp
The days after Mack’s confession blurred together. Eli went through the motions, practice, meals, sleep but nothing felt real. His mind kept circling back to the same impossible truth: Mack was his brother. Half‑brother. The man who had outed him, who had apologized, who had almost kissed him, shared his blood. He did not know how to feel. Angry? Betrayed? Relieved? All of it, none of it. Mack gave him space. They still trained together, still shared hotel rooms on road trips, but the easy rhythm was gone. Mack did not push. He did not bring up the confession. He just waited for him. Eli was grateful, furious and confused. ~~~~~ The Thunderbirds clinched a playoff spot on the last day of the regular season. The locker room erupted. Players hugged, shouted, sprayed champagne. Coach Marshall stood in the corner, smiling, his arms crossed. Eli stood in the middle of the chaos, a bottle in his hand, his teammates slapping his back. But his smile did not reach his eyes. Across th
That night, Eli drove to Mack’s apartment with his hands gripping the wheel and his heart in his throat. The street was dark and empty. He had not told anyone where he was going, he had not answered Daniel’s texts and he barely ate anything. His mind was a storm of questions, and only Mack had the answers. Mack lived in a small building on the edge of downtown, quiet and calm. Eli parked on the street and sat in the car for a long moment, staring at the lit window on the third floor. You can still leave, a voice whispered. You do not have to know. But he did. He had to. Eli got out of the car and walked inside. Mack opened the door before he could knock. He was wearing a grey sweater and jeans, his hair still damp from a shower. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He looked like he had been crying. “Come in,” Mack said. Eli stepped inside. The apartment was small but neat. A couch, a coffee table, a bookshelf full of old paperbacks. A picture of an older woman on the mant
The morning after the almost kiss, Eli woke to an empty hotel room. Mack’s bed was made and his bag gone. There was no note, no text, no nothing. Eli sat up slowly, his head thick with exhaustion and confusion. He had not slept. He had stared at the ceiling for hours, replaying the moment when Mack pulled away. You deserve someone who hasn't hurt you. Eli pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to feel the ache in his chest. He showered, dressed, and packed his bag. The bus back to Seattle was quiet. Mack sat at the front, his back to Eli. Eli sat in the back, his hood up, his earbuds in. They did not speak to each other while the season continued. A week passed, one week turned two. The morning practices stopped. Mack stopped showing up early. He was polite, professional, distant. He answered Eli’s questions about drills, helped him on the ice when the coach asked, but nothing more. No coffee. No late night tal
The tunnel was cold and empty.Sebastian had waited. He told himself he was not waiting for Julian. He was just slow getting his gear together. He was just tired. He was just standing in the tunnel for no reason at all.But when he heard footsteps behind him, he did not turn around. He knew who it
The arena was loud.Sebastian stepped onto the ice for warmups and felt the energy buzzing through the stands. The Vancouver crowd was hungry for a win. The Storm had lost three of their last four, and the fans were getting restless. A win against Calgary would quiet some of the noise.But Calgary
Julian woke up the next morning and knew something was wrong. His knee had been hurting for months. It started after a hard hit in last season’s playoffs. At first he ignored it, the way hockey players always do. Put ice on it, wrap it up, take pain medicine, and get back on the ice. That was the
(Before the present)The first Sunday dinner after the wedding was the worst.Sebastian showed up late on purpose. He parked his old truck next to Julian's new car, the one Richard had bought him as a graduation gift, and sat there for a full minute before getting out. The mansion loomed above him,







