“I would never. I still want to win that Stanley Cup. For Dad.” The fire in his eyes, the excitement … I should be reflecting the same thing. But I’m not. Because as he says the one thing I’ve been telling myself for years—that the only thing that matters is the Stanley Cup—I realize something about myself I never saw coming. This is even bigger than my sexuality. Bigger than Easton pointing out I was an asshole. It’s the biggest shock of all. I don’t give a shit about winning a Stanley Cup.
