Chapter Text
"I'm guessing you didn't know this was a possibility." Michael, their team doctor, said gently.
Troy rubbed his hands over his face, biting his lip hard as he tried to hold back tears.
"Um, yeah...I mean, no. I didn't know." His voice cracked. "My father knew the statistics. One in nine hundred. He thought it was pointless to test because there was no way I was one of those men." He let out a bitter laugh. "There I go again. Just another way for him to be disappointed in me."
"Troy." Michael leaned forward. "It's not a shameful thing."
"Is it even allowed in the league?" Troy's hands dropped to his lap, fingers twisting together.
"It's not explicitly forbidden. But the league has access to medical records, and teams are highly encouraged not to draft anyone who has the gene." Michael's tone was careful, professional.
Troy nodded numbly.
"Troy, you need to tell Harris. You two can make a plan together."
"Yeah...yeah, okay, Doc." The words came out hollow.
"And obviously, you're on IR until you figure out how you're going to proceed."
Troy nodded again. The nausea hit him in a wave, and he pressed a hand to his stomach, trying to breathe through it.
"Do you want me to call him to pick you up?" Michael's voice was gentle. "You really shouldn't be driving like this."
"I'll call an Uber." Troy's voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.
"Okay." Michael squeezed his shoulder. "But as your friend? Don't hide from him. He deserves to know."
Troy managed another nod before gathering his belongings. His legs felt unsteady as he made his way down the hallway. It stretched endlessly before him, fluorescent lights humming overhead, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
Pregnant. The word kept circling through his mind, impossible and real all at once.
He was confused. Terrified, if he was being honest. Troy loved Harris but they'd never talked about this. Never discussed kids or futures or what any of it meant. And now he was supposed to tell Harris that he was carrying his child? That his body could do something his father had deemed shameful enough to hide from him his entire life?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with shaking hands, the screen blurring before coming into focus.
Harris ❤️🍎: What did Michael say?
Harris ❤️🍎: : Not trying to push but call when you're done?
Harris ❤️🍎: : I love you baby
Troy's throat tightened. Harris had no idea. No idea that everything had just changed.
T: Can I come over? We need to talk.
Harris ❤️🍎: : Well that sounds ominous. Should I order us some lunch?
T: No I just need to see you.
His phone vibrated with the notification that his ride had arrived. Troy pushed himself up and headed outside, sliding into the backseat with a weary sigh.
"Troy Barrett?" the driver asked, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.
Troy's stomach sank. A fan. Of course. Just his luck.
"Yeah, that's me."
"You're a legend, man!" The driver's enthusiasm filled the small space. "Toronto were idiots to let you go. But I'm not complaining! Ottawa was lucky to get you."
"Thanks," Troy said, the word flat. He turned his face toward the window, hoping the driver would take the hint.
"Man, with you, Rozanov, and Hollander, we're gonna be a powerhouse. A force to be reckoned with!" The driver's voice was bright with excitement.
If Troy went through with the pregnancy, he'd be out for the whole season. How would the fans react? Would Crowell find a way to kick him out of the league entirely?
"Yeah. Strong team. Lots of good players." Troy's responses came automatically, hollow and distant.
"I'm telling you, we're making the playoffs this year. I can feel it!" The driver continued, oblivious to Troy's lack of enthusiasm. "You think you guys have a shot at the Cup?"
Troy pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city blur past. His hand drifted unconsciously to his stomach.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "We'll see."
They pulled up in front of Harris's building.
"Man, Troy Barrett in my car!" The driver twisted around, phone already in hand. "No one's gonna believe me when I tell them. Can I get a selfie?"
Troy paused halfway out of the car, one foot on the pavement. He just wanted to get upstairs and be held by his boyfriend. To tell Harris everything and let someone else carry this weight for a moment.
But he'd worked so hard to shed his reputation as an asshole. Forcing smiles, signing autographs, proving he wasn't the player Toronto had painted him as.
"Yeah, sure." Troy turned back, managing something that might pass for a smile as the driver leaned in close.
The camera clicked. Once. Twice.
"Thanks, man! You're the best!" The driver beamed. "Good luck this season!"
"Thanks." Troy shut the door and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at Harris's building. His hands were shaking again. He took a breath and headed inside.
He knocked tentatively when he reached the door.
"Hey." Harris smiled as he pulled it open, but the smile faltered immediately. "Troy—"
Troy burst into tears.
"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay." Harris's voice went soft as he gently tugged Troy inside and shut the door behind them. He guided him to the couch, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Troy buried his face against Harris's chest, inhaling that familiar apple scent, trying to ground himself.
Harris lifted Troy's chin, thumbs brushing away tears. "Whatever this is, we can get through it together."
"I...I'm..." Troy's breath hitched. "I was never...so I didn't know...and now..."
"Deep breaths." Harris kept his voice calm, steady. "I'm not quite following, sweetheart."
"The gene...the...the carrier gene...I have..." Troy couldn't finish the sentence.
Realization dawned across Harris's face. His eyes widened, searching Troy's.
"Oh my God." Harris's voice was barely a whisper. "Troy, are you pregnant?"
"Yes." Troy's voice came out raw, broken. "And I know we've never talked about this, and I'm scared...I'm so, so scared. I don't know what this means for us or my career. Or if I even want to..." His breath caught. "And what if I'm like him? What if I'm a terrible father like he was?"
He pulled back just enough to look at Harris, tears streaming down his face. "But Harris, you'd be such a good dad. Our baby would be so loved and wanted and—" His voice cracked completely. "And I...I just...I don't know what to do."
Harris's own eyes were wet as he cupped Troy's face in both hands. "Okay. Okay, breathe with me." He pressed their foreheads together. "In and out. That's it."
They breathed together for a long moment, Troy's shaking gradually slowing.
"First," Harris said softly, "you are nothing like your father. Nothing. You hear me?"
Troy nodded against him, not trusting his voice.
"Second, we're going to figure this out. Together. There's no rush to decide anything right now." Harris's thumbs traced gentle circles on Troy's cheeks. "How far along are you?"
Troy felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He'd ignored the signs for so long—the fatigue, the nausea he'd blamed on stress, the way his body had felt different.
"Twelve weeks." His voice was barely audible. "I'm twelve weeks."
Harris went very still. Troy could feel him processing, calculating. Three months. A whole trimester.
"Okay." Harris's voice was carefully measured, though Troy could hear the slight shake in it. "Okay. That's...that's important to know." He pulled Troy closer again, one hand moving to rest gently on Troy's stomach. "Have you seen a doctor? Besides Michael?"
Troy shook his head against Harris's chest. "Just him. He did the test today when I went in about the nausea. I thought it was just...I don't know, stress from the season starting." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Apparently not."
"Troy." Harris's hand was warm through his shirt. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"
"I didn't think it was anything." Troy's voice broke again. "I really didn't know, Harris. I swear I didn't know this could even happen to me."
"Hey." Harris tilted Troy's face up gently, making sure their eyes met. "Look at me. I'm not blaming you for anything. Not even a little bit." His voice was firm, steady. "We just need to be proactive now. Get you to an actual OB, get an ultrasound. And we have some decisions to make."
Troy nodded, his heart hammering. This was it. The moment that would determine everything.
"I..." He swallowed hard. "I want to do it." The words came out quiet but certain. It was the first time he'd let himself admit it, even to himself. "I want to have this baby. With you."
Harris's breath caught. For a moment, he just stared at Troy, his eyes searching, glistening with unshed tears.
"Yeah?" His voice was thick with emotion, and despite everything a smile broke across his face. "You mean it?"
"Yeah." Troy felt something loosen in his chest, something that had been wound tight since Michael's office. "I'm terrified, and I have no idea how we're going to do this, but...yeah. I want this."
Harris pulled him into a fierce kiss, cradling Troy's face like he was something precious. When they broke apart, both were crying.
"We're having a baby," Harris whispered, almost incredulous.
Troy let out a watery laugh. "We're having a baby."
Troy's phone buzzed, breaking the spell of the moment.
Crazy Russian: Barrett! What is this? You are on IR?
Troy's stomach dropped. He'd forgotten about the roster announcement.
T: Uh yeah. Just some medical stuff.
Crazy Russian: You are ok? That hit last night didn't seem too bad. Is it Harris? His heart?
Harris leaned over to read the messages, his hand still resting protectively on Troy's stomach.
T: No Ilya. I'm fine, Harris is fine.
Crazy Russian: Then why does IR list say undetermined for length of time?
Troy looked up at Harris helplessly. They hadn't even talked about who to tell or when or how to handle this with the team.
"What do I say?" Troy's voice was tight with anxiety. "We can't tell him. Not yet. Not until we figure out what we're doing."
Harris was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing gentle circles on Troy's hip. "Tell him it's personal medical stuff and you'll fill him in when you can. Ilya's nosy, but he'll respect your privacy if you're direct."
Troy nodded and typed out a response.
T: It's personal medical stuff. I promise I'll explain when I can. Please don't worry.
The three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Crazy Russian: Ok. But you call if you need anything. Anything, yes?
T: Yeah. Thanks Ilya.
Troy set the phone down with shaking hands. "This is going to be impossible to keep quiet, isn't it?"
"It's not going to be easy." Harris pulled him closer. "But one step at a time, okay? Let's make the doctor's appointment."
Troy took a shaky breath. "Yeah. Okay. One step at a time."
A few hours later, they sat in an OB's waiting room, Troy's leg bouncing anxiously.
"And this guy specializes in carriers?" Troy kept his voice low, hyperaware of the other people in the waiting room.
"Yes, and he's highly sought after. It's a miracle they were able to get us in today." Harris's hand found Troy's, stilling the nervous bounce.
Troy managed a small smile. "Well, you kind of wouldn't take no for an answer."
"When it comes to you and our baby?" Harris squeezed his hand. "Never."
"T. Drover?" A nurse called from the doorway, clipboard in hand.
Troy's heart jumped at the fake name he'd given, though he didn't hate the idea of having Harris's last name. Someday, maybe.
Harris stood and extended a hand to help Troy up. Troy took it, grateful for the steady anchor as they followed the nurse down the hallway.
"Right this way, gentlemen."
The nurse took Troy's vitals and asked him a series of questions—any cramping, bleeding, previous pregnancies—each one making this feel more surreal. Finally, she left them alone to wait for the doctor.
Troy perched on the edge of the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath him.
"You okay?" Harris asked from the chair beside him.
"Yeah." Troy's hands twisted together in his lap. "This is just...a lot."
Harris reached out and stilled Troy's restless hands, threading their fingers together.
A knock at the door made them both look up. "Knock knock," a cheerful voice called as the doctor entered, a short, smiley middle-aged man with kind eyes. "Mr. Drover? I'm Dr. Morton."
Troy hesitated, then took a breath. If he was going to do this, he needed to be honest. "Actually, it's Barrett. Troy Barrett."
Dr. Morton's eyes widened with recognition. "Oh my! You are Troy Barrett, aren't you?" His smile broadened. "My wife and I have season tickets. We love watching you play."
Troy's stomach tightened. Here it was, the moment his privacy evaporated. "Yeah, that's me. And I'd really appreciate if this could stay confidential."
"Of course, of course!" Dr. Morton's expression sobered immediately, becoming professional. "Everything discussed in this room is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. You have my word." He pulled up a rolling stool and sat down. "Now, I understand we're here because you've recently discovered you're a carrier and you're pregnant?"
"Uh, yeah." Troy's voice was tight. "My dad never got me tested. He didn't think there was any possibility, and he didn't know I was gay..." He trailed off, the hurt flaring up again.
"A fairly common story for men your age, unfortunately." Dr. Morton's tone was gentle, understanding. "Many fathers...well, they had their own ideas about what was possible or acceptable."
Troy felt Harris's hand settle on his knee, grounding him.
"Yeah, well..." Troy cleared his throat. "My team doctor said he thought I was about twelve weeks based on hormone levels or something, but I don't know. He's not really trained in this stuff beyond the basics."
"That's understandable. Sports medicine physicians typically have limited obstetric training, especially with male carriers." Dr. Morton pulled up Troy's chart on his tablet. "Let's get some concrete answers. We'll do an ultrasound today to confirm dating and check on development. Is this your first prenatal appointment?"
"First anything appointment," Troy admitted. "I only found out this morning."
Dr. Morton's eyebrows rose. "This morning? Well, that's quite a day you're having." He gave Troy a kind smile. "Let's see what we can do to make the rest of it a little less overwhelming. Do you have any immediate questions or concerns before we get started?"
"Uh, well..." Troy shifted on the exam table. "I don't really know anything about carrier pregnancies. Is it that different from a traditional pregnancy? And like...how does the baby actually come out?"
He felt his face heat up at the question, but he needed to know.
Dr. Morton's expression remained kind and professional. "Those are excellent questions, and ones many carriers ask. Carrier pregnancies do carry somewhat higher risks such as increased chance of preeclampsia, gestational diabetes, and premature labor. That's why close monitoring is essential." He pulled up a diagram on his tablet. "Full term for carriers is considered thirty-six weeks versus the typical forty for female pregnancies."
"And the delivery?" Troy pressed, needing the answer even though part of him didn't want to hear it.
"Most carriers deliver naturally—anally," Dr. Morton said matter-of-factly. "The body undergoes significant adaptations during pregnancy to accommodate delivery. C-sections are an option if there are complications or if that's your preference, but natural delivery typically has fewer risks and faster recovery time."
Troy felt the blood drain from his face. Harris's hand found his immediately.
"I know it sounds daunting," Dr. Morton continued gently. "But carrier bodies are designed for this. The hormone changes throughout pregnancy prepare the body. We'll discuss everything in detail as we go, and you'll have plenty of time to process and ask questions. For now, let's take a look at how things are progressing, shall we?"
Troy nodded, his throat tight.
"Okay, let's take a look." Dr. Morton rolled his stool closer. "This gel is going to be a little cold."
Troy flinched slightly as the cool gel touched his abdomen. Dr. Morton lifted his shirt higher, revealing the small bump that Troy had been trying to ignore, telling himself it was just bloating or weight gain.
Harris grasped Troy's hand as Dr. Morton moved the ultrasound wand across his skin. The room filled with a rhythmic sound—thump thump thump thump—fast and steady.
"There's baby," Dr. Morton said, pointing at the grainy image on the screen.
Troy's breath caught. It was real. A tiny shape, curled and moving slightly, unmistakably alive.
"Harris," Troy whispered, unable to look away from the screen. "That's our baby."
"Our baby," Harris breathed. His voice cracked, and when Troy finally tore his eyes from the monitor to look at him, Harris's face was wet with tears.
"I can't believe I'm carrying our baby," Troy said, his own vision blurring. The fear was still there, coiled tight in his chest, but beneath it was something else, something fierce and protective and overwhelming.
Harris pressed a kiss to Troy's knuckles, then to his forehead. "You're amazing," he whispered. "You're so amazing."
"Baby looks very good. Very healthy," Dr. Morton said, moving the wand to get different angles. "Strong heartbeat, good size for twelve weeks."
Harris's grip on Troy's hand suddenly tightened. "Oh my God." His voice went sharp with panic. "I have a heart condition. I could pass that on to our baby."
Troy turned to look at him, seeing the fear wash over Harris's face.
"What kind of heart condition?" Dr. Morton asked calmly, still focused on the screen.
"Transthyretin amyloid cardiomyopathy. The hereditary form," Harris said, the words tumbling out.
Troy watched Harris's face crumple, guilt already settling in.
"Hey," Troy said softly, squeezing his hand. "Harris, look at me."
Dr. Morton set down the wand and turned to face them both. "That's important information to have, and we'll absolutely monitor for it. There are fetal echocardiograms we can do later in the pregnancy to check the baby's heart development. But right now, everything looks good." He offered Harris a reassuring smile. "Let's not borrow trouble. We'll take it one step at a time."
Harris nodded, but Troy could see he was still spiraling.
"Dr. Morton," Troy said, his voice quiet. "What about my job? There's never been a pregnant player in the NHL."
Dr. Morton's expression grew serious. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you can't play. Not even practice. The risk of injury, the physical demands it's much too dangerous for you and the baby."
Troy felt his stomach drop. He'd known, logically, but hearing it said out loud made it real.
"And after the baby is born?"
"Eight weeks minimum before you can return to any kind of strenuous physical activity. But remember, you'll have a newborn." Dr. Morton's tone was gentle but honest. "Sleep deprivation, recovery from delivery, and learning to care for an infant. Most carriers take at least three to four months before they're physically and mentally ready to return to demanding careers. And that's if everything goes smoothly."
Troy stared at the frozen image of the baby on the screen. An entire season. Maybe more. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd rebuilt after Toronto.
"Troy," Harris started, his voice thick with emotion.
"It's okay," Troy cut him off, though his own voice was shaking. "I want this. I want our baby." He looked down at the small bump beneath the gel. "Hockey will still be there."
They finished up the appointment. Dr. Morton printed off ultrasound pictures and scheduled their next visit for two weeks out.
Troy was quiet as they walked to the car, clutching the photos like a lifeline. Once they were both inside, the dam broke.
"I have to tell Coach." Troy's words came fast, tumbling over each other. "And my mom, your family, the team. Oh God, the team. And we only have five months! Five months and then we're parents. Harris, we have to move. Should we get married? We need to get married, right? For legal stuff and insurance and—" He sucked in a breath. "And Chiron. How will Chiron do with a baby? We need to train him or—"
"Troy." Harris reached over and gently took his hand. "Breathe."
"I can't—there's so much—"
"Breathe," Harris repeated, firmer this time. "One thing at a time, remember? That's what we said."
Troy closed his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart. "I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I," Harris admitted. "But we'll figure it out. Together." He squeezed Troy's hand. "Let's just go home, okay? We'll make a list, we'll make a plan. But right now, let's just go home."
Troy nodded, still gripping the ultrasound pictures. Their baby. Real and alive and coming in five months.
"Okay," he whispered. "Home."
They sat at Harris's breakfast bar, and Harris pulled out his iPad.
"Okay." Harris's fingers hovered over the screen. "Let's make a list. What's priority one?"
"Coach Wiebe," Troy said immediately. "I need to tell him before it leaks somehow. But..." He hesitated. "I want our families to know first. Before the team."
Harris nodded, already typing. "Agreed. We're supposed to have dinner with my parents and sisters tonight, if you're still up for it." He glanced up, eyes soft with concern. "And maybe we could FaceTime your mom first?"
Troy's chest tightened. His mom. She'd be thrilled. She'd always wanted grandkids, and she'd never been anything but supportive.
"Yeah," Troy said quietly. "Yeah, we should call her before dinner." His jaw clenched. "She deserves to know. She's always been there for me."
Unlike his father, who hadn't said a word to him since he came out publicly. Who'd known about the carrier gene but sabotaged him because he was so convinced his son couldn't possibly be gay, couldn't possibly be one of "those men."
"She's going to be over the moon," Harris said gently.
"I know." Troy looked down at the ultrasound picture on the counter. "I just...I hate that my dadbwas so ashamed of the possibility that he let me go through life not knowing." His voice dropped. "And I'm terrified I'll mess up like he did. That I'll fail our kid."
Harris was around the counter immediately, pulling Troy into his arms. "You are nothing like him. Nothing."
Troy let himself be held. "He hasn't spoken to me in over a year, Harris. And now I'm pregnant with his grandchild and he'll never even know because he can't stand who I am."
"Then that's his loss," Harris said fiercely. "His loss, Troy. Not yours. Our baby is going to have so much love from your mom, from my family, from the team from us. That's what matters."
"Let's call her now," Troy said, his heart already racing. "Before I lose my nerve."
Harris squeezed his hand and pulled up FaceTime.
The call connected after two rings. "Hi, baby!" Troy's mom's face filled the screen, her smile warm and familiar. "And hello to you too, Harris."
"Hi, Julia." Harris smiled and waved.
Troy's throat felt tight. "Mom, I have to tell you something. Something really important."
Julia's expression shifted immediately, concern flickering across her features. Then her face brightened. "You're engaged, aren't you?" She clapped her hands together. "Oh, I knew it! Let me see the ring!"
"No, Mom, we're not engaged." Troy's hands were shaking. "It's, uh...it's bigger than that."
Julia's smile faltered slightly, confused.
"Bigger? What's bigger than marriage?" Then she laughed, the sound light and teasing. "It's not like you're pregnant or anything."
Troy and Harris exchanged a look.
The silence stretched just a beat too long.
Julia's smile froze. "Troy?" Her voice changed, uncertain now. "Honey, what's going on?"
Troy took a shaky breath and held up the ultrasound picture to the camera.
"Actually, Mom... I am. I'm pregnant."
Julia's face went pale. "What? How?" Her voice rose, confused and urgent. "Your father said when he got you tested that you were negative for the carrier gene."
Troy felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "He...what?"
"When you were twelve. He took you to get tested and said you didn't have it." Julia's hand went to her mouth. "He told me you were negative."
"He never got me tested, Mom." Troy's voice shook with anger. "Or if he did, he lied about the results."
The silence on the other end of the call was deafening. Troy watched his mother's expression shift from confusion to shock to fury.
"That son of a bitch," Julia whispered. Then louder, "That goddamn son of a bitch." Her eyes were suddenly wet. "Troy, baby, I'm so sorry. I thought..I asked him to test you and he said he did. He showed me paperwork. I never thought—"
"Mom, it's okay—"
"It's not okay!" Her voice cracked. "You should have known. You had a right to know about your own body. And now you're—" She stopped, seeming to really process it for the first time. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"
Troy nodded, tears spilling over. "Twelve weeks."
Harris's arm came around his shoulders, anchoring him.
Julia's face softened, anger giving way to wonder. "Oh, sweetheart. Oh my God, I'm going to be a grandma."
"You are," Troy said, a smile breaking through his tears.
Julia's expression suddenly shifted, her eyes widening. "Wait a second." Her voice took on that tone...the one Troy remembered from childhood when he was in trouble. "You played last night. Against Boston. And you took that hit in the third period." Her voice rose. "Troy Andrew Barrett, did you knowingly play hockey while pregnant with my grandbaby?"
"No! Mom, no." Troy held up his hands defensively. "I just found out this morning. I swear. I had no idea."
Harris squeezed his shoulder in support.
Julia's face softened slightly, though concern still etched her features. "This morning? You found out today?"
"The team doctor ran tests because I've been nauseous. I thought it was stress or food poisoning or something." Troy's voice was small. "I didn't know, Mom. I would never—"
"Okay. Okay, baby, I believe you." Julia pressed her hand to her chest, taking a breath. "God, that must have been terrifying. Finding out like that."
"It was," Troy admitted quietly. "It still is."
"But you're okay? The baby's okay? After the hit?"
"We just came from the OB. Everything looks good. Strong heartbeat." Troy held up the ultrasound picture again, and Julia leaned closer to the screen, her expression melting.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Troy. That's my grandbaby."
"You're the first to know, Mom," Troy said.
"Oh, sweetie." Julia's voice went soft and tender. "What do you need? How can I help? Do you have any cravings or aversions yet? I can bring dinner over tonight if you want. Or groceries. Whatever you need."
"Actually, tonight we're having dinner with Harris's family," Troy said, glancing at Harris. "We're telling them. And then tomorrow we're telling the team."
Julia nodded. "Of course. How are you feeling about telling them? The Drovers are such wonderful people."
"Nervous," Troy admitted. "But they've always been so supportive of us."
"They're going to be thrilled," Julia said with certainty. "And Troy? I know this is scary and overwhelming, but I'm so proud of you. Both of you." She looked at Harris. "You're going to be amazing parents."
"Thanks, Mom," Troy said, his voice thick.
"Call me after dinner tonight, okay? I want to hear how it goes. And I'm serious about helping. Whatever you need, doctor's appointments, setting up a nursery, someone to talk to at three in the morning. I'm here."
"I know, Mom. Thank you."
"I love you, baby. Both of you."
"Love you too."
"Harris?" Troy said as he set down the iPad, his heart suddenly pounding.
"Yeah?"
Troy turned to face him fully, taking both of Harris's hands in his. "Will you marry me?"
Harris's eyes went wide. "What?"
"This isn't how I planned on doing it. I don't even have a ring or anything but you're it for me." The words tumbled out, urgent and honest. "I want to grow old with you and raise our kid with you. You're so important to me. You're everything." Troy's voice cracked. "So what do you say, baby daddy? Do you want to be my husband?"
Harris stared at him for a long moment, his eyes glistening.
"Troy, you don't have to—"
"I'm not asking because I'm pregnant," Troy interrupted. "I'm asking because I love you. Because I've known for months that you're the person I want to spend my life with. The baby just..." He smiled through his tears. "The baby just made me realize I don't want to wait."
Harris let out a shaky laugh, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Yes. God, yes." He pulled Troy into a fierce kiss. "Yes, I'll marry you."
Troy kissed him back, relief and joy flooding through him. When they broke apart, both of them were crying and laughing at the same time.
"We're getting married," Troy whispered.
"We're getting married," Harris repeated, pressing his forehead to Troy's. "And we're having a baby."
"Best day ever?" Troy said with a watery smile.
"Scariest, craziest, best day ever," Harris agreed.
****
"Are you ready for this?" Harris asked as they pulled up in front of his parents' house.
Dinner at the Drovers was always loud and full of activity. On a normal day, Troy sometimes had to step outside to clear his head. And this was definitely not a normal day.
"We'll be fine," Troy said, resting his hand on his small bump. "She's got to get used to her crazy family."
Harris's head whipped around, a smile spreading across his face. "She?"
"Feels like a girl to me." Troy shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know. Just a feeling."
"Our daughter, " Harris said softly, like he was testing out the words. His eyes were bright with wonder.
"Maybe. Could be wrong."
"I love you," Harris said, leaning across the console to give Troy a quick kiss.
"Love you too." Troy took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go tell your family we're having a baby."
"And that we're engaged," Harris added with a grin.
"And that we're engaged," Troy repeated, shaking his head with a laugh. "God, what a day."
They climbed out of the car and headed toward the front door, where they could already hear the familiar chaos of the Drover family dinner filtering through the windows.
"My boys!" Marlene threw open the door and pulled them both into a hug before they'd even crossed the threshold. She pulled back, eyes narrowing as she looked between them. "Something's different."
"Holy cow, Ma, you're like a bloodhound," Harris said, shaking his head.
Troy felt his stomach flip. Could she really tell already?
"We do have some news," Troy said carefully, "but we want to wait until everyone's together."
"Everyone! Sam! Girls!" Marlene called out, already herding them toward the dining room. "Let's all get to the table. The boys have something to tell us."
In what felt like an instant, Harris's dad and sisters and their husbands were all seated around the table, looking at them eagerly.
Harris reached for Troy's hand under the table and squeezed. Troy took a breath.
"Well, first of all," Harris announced, unable to keep the smile off his face, "we're engaged."
Cheers erupted. Harris's sisters were out of their chairs immediately, hugging them both. Sam clapped Harris on the back, grinning wide.
"This deserves cider to celebrate!" Marlene was already heading for the kitchen.
"None for me, thanks," Troy said, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on his small bump.
Marlene froze mid-step. She turned slowly, eyes wide. "Troy. You're not—are you?"
Troy nodded, suddenly shy. "Yeah. I am."
"Oh my God. Oh my God!" Marlene pressed both hands to her mouth, tears already forming. She was smiling so wide her face looked like it might split. "We're having a grandbaby!"
"Wait, what'd I miss?" Sam looked around, confused.
"Dad," Harris's sister Margot laughed, "Troy's pregnant!"
Sam's jaw dropped. Then his face broke into the biggest grin. "No kidding? That's wonderful! Congratulations!"
The room erupted again, this time even louder.
"How are you feeling, Troy?"
"How far along are you?"
"I didn't even know you were a carrier!"
"When are you due?"
"Does the team know?"
The questions came from every direction, voices overlapping in excitement.
"Whoa, whoa!" Harris held up his hands, laughing. "One at a time, guys. We'll answer all your questions, I promise. But let's sit down and have some dinner first."
"Dinner can wait," Marlene said firmly, pulling out a chair for Troy. "Sit, sweetheart. You should be off your feet. Are you feeling okay? Any morning sickness?"
Troy couldn't help but smile at her fussing.
"I'm okay. The nausea's been pretty rough, but Dr. Morton said that's normal."
"Troy, honey, what do you need? Are you eating enough? Do you have cravings?"
"Ma, let him breathe," Anna said with a laugh.
Troy felt overwhelmed but in the best possible way.
"Well, I can tell it's Harris's baby," Troy said with a laugh, "because I've never had a sweet tooth, but this baby sure does."
Harris laughed sheepishly, his ears going a little red. "Sorry?"
"Don't apologize," Troy said, nudging him.
"We have apple crisp and cookies!" Marlene was already halfway to the kitchen. "I could make a cake. What kind do you like, Troy? Chocolate? Vanilla? Oh, we should get ice cream too!"
"Ma, you're going to spoil him," Margot said fondly.
"Anything for GiGi's little peanut," Marlene said.
Harris's head tilted. "GiGi?"
"Just testing it out," Marlene said, a little defensive but smiling. "I need to figure out what I want to be called. GiGi, Nana, Grandma...What do you think?"
"I think it's adorable," Troy said honestly, feeling his throat get tight. His own mother would be Grammy or Grandma, but having Marlene so excited, already claiming her role in their baby's life meant everything.
"GiGi it is, then," Marlene declared, beaming. "Now, let me get you some apple crisp."
Sam chuckled. "You realize you're never going to hear the end of this, right? She's going to be at your place every day with baked goods."
"I'm not complaining," Troy said, and he meant it.
Troy hadn't been worried about Harris's family being supportive, but still, it was nice to see it in action warm and encompassing.
"So when is the baby due?" Marlene asked, already pulling out her phone, probably to start adding dates to her calendar.
"Let's see, it's December now, and you're probably around eight weeks, so...July?" she guessed.
"Uh, not quite." Troy shifted in his seat. "I'm twelve weeks, and carrier gestation is only thirty-six weeks, not forty. So I'm actually due in May."
Marlene's eyes widened. "May? That's five months away!"
"Less than six months," Anna said, her voice rising with excitement. "Oh my God, that's so soon!"
"We have so much to do," Margot chimed in. "Nursery, baby shower, registry—"
"Do you know what you're having yet?" Mark asked.
Troy shook his head. "Not yet. It's too early. But..." He glanced at Harris with a small smile. "I have a feeling it's a girl."
"A girl," Marlene breathed, her hand over her heart. "Oh, Sam, we're having a granddaughter."
"Maybe," Harris said quickly, though he was smiling. "We don't know for sure yet."
"A grandbaby in May," Sam said, shaking his head in wonder. "That's incredible. Congratulations, boys. Really."
The warmth in the room wrapped around Troy like a blanket.
After the reactions from his mom and Harris's family, Troy was feeling more confident about telling the team. He pulled out his phone as they settled back at Harris's apartment.
T: Hey Coach. I was wondering if I could come discuss something with you before practice tomorrow?
The reply came quickly.
Coach Wiebe: Sure. Everything ok? Michael didn't give me much information about your IR placement, so I'm a little concerned.
Troy's stomach flipped. Of course Coach was worried.
T: Everything's fine. I promise. But we can talk about it tomorrow if that's ok?
Coach Wiebe: Ok. 9 o'clock in my office?
T: Harris and I will be there.
There was a pause, then:
Coach Wiebe: Harris is coming too?
T: Yeah. It involves both of us.
Coach Wiebe: Alright. See you both at 9.
Troy set his phone down and let out a long breath.
"He's going to figure it out before we even get there," Harris said, reading over his shoulder.
"Probably," Troy admitted. "But at least we're telling him before anyone else on the team finds out."
Harris pulled him close. "One more conversation, and then it's out there. We can do this."
"We can do this," Troy echoed, trying to believe it.
Between the nerves and the constant need to pee, Troy barely slept a wink. Harris had to practically force-feed him oatmeal that morning.
"You need your energy," Harris said, holding out another spoonful. "You're growing a brain right now."
Troy laughed despite himself and managed another bite. "That's a terrible sales pitch."
"But it worked," Harris said with a satisfied smile.
When they pulled up to the familiar arena, Harris squeezed his hand. "It's gonna be fine."
Troy nodded, not trusting his voice. They walked through the employee entrance and down the long hallway to Wiebe's office. Troy's hand was shaking slightly as he knocked.
"Come on in, guys," Coach called.
They entered to find Wiebe behind his desk, smiling warmly. "Sounds like you have some news to share," he said as they settled into the chairs across from him.
Troy's throat felt tight. He glanced at Harris, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"Uh, yeah. So, um..." Troy took a breath. "I'm pregnant."
Wiebe's mouth dropped open. For a long moment, he just stared at Troy, processing.
"I was expecting pregnancy news after our conversation yesterday," Wiebe finally said slowly. "I assumed it was Harris who..." He shook his head, still looking stunned. "Wow. Troy. This is big. There's never been a player in the NHL who...I had no idea you were even a carrier."
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair. "I'm thrilled for you both, obviously, but this is..." He let out a breath. "This is huge. This is going to change everything."
Troy felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, clearly you're out for the season," Wiebe said carefully. "But this is going to throw yau and the entire NHL into the spotlight. The media is going to be all over this." He paused, his expression darkening. "And Crowell is going to throw a fit."
"Screw that guy," Harris said immediately, his jaw tight.
"I firmly agree with that sentiment," Wiebe said with a humorless smile. "But unfortunately, the jackass is still the commissioner."
Troy's stomach churned. Crowell had made his views on "progressive politics in hockey" abundantly clear over the years. A pregnant player? He'd lose his mind.
"Can he...can he do anything?" Troy asked quietly. "Legally, I mean?"
Wiebe leaned forward, his expression serious but reassuring. "No. You're protected under multiple discrimination laws. He can't touch you. But he can make noise, and he will." He met Troy's eyes. "I need you to be prepared for that. This is going to be a media circus."
"We're ready," Harris said, his hand finding Troy's.
Wiebe looked at them both for a long moment. "You're going to need legal representation, just in case. The league and the Players' Association should provide support, but..." He shook his head. "This is uncharted territory."
Troy felt the weight of it settling on his shoulders. He was about to become the face of something much bigger than himself.
Wiebe's expression grew more serious. "Troy, I need you to understand something. People are going to say things. Horrible things. Worse than when you came out on Pride Night." He paused, making sure Troy was listening. "And since your carrier status wasn't disclosed when you were drafted, or when you were traded...it could get ugly."
Troy felt cold. "You think people will say I hid it on purpose?"
Wiebe leaned forward, his eyes serious. "I have to ask you this, and I need you to be honest with me. Did you know you were a carrier?"
"No." Troy's voice was firm, immediate. "I found out yesterday. My father told my mom he had me tested when I was twelve and that I was negative. But he never tested me. Or he did and he lied about the results." His voice cracked slightly. "He knew the statistics. One in nine hundred. He didn't think it was worth testing because there was 'no way' I was one of those men."
Harris's hand tightened on his.
Wiebe's jaw clenched. "So you had no idea."
"None. I swear, Coach. If I'd known—" Troy broke off. "I would have told you. I would have told everyone."
Wiebe nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I believe you." He let out a long breath. "But you need to understand that some people won't. They'll accuse you of hiding it, of deceiving teams, of being a liability. Even though you're telling the truth. The facts won't matter to some people."
"That's not fair," Harris said, his voice hard.
"No, it's not." Wiebe looked at Troy with sympathy. "But there are a lot of people out there looking for reasons to tear down players like you. Players who are changing what hockey looks like."
Troy's hand moved unconsciously to his stomach. "So what do I do?"
"You hold your head high," Wiebe said firmly. "You tell your truth. And you let the people who love you stand beside you." He glanced at Harris, then back to Troy. "You're going to have this entire team behind you. I promise you that."
Troy's throat felt tight. "Thank you, Coach."
"Don't thank me yet. We've still got to tell the rest of the team." Wiebe checked his watch. "Practice starts in thirty minutes. You want to tell them before or after?"
Troy looked at Harris, who squeezed his hand.
"Before," Troy said. "Let's just get it over with."
They walked into the locker room, which was loud and full of Centaurs in various stages of getting ready for practice.
"Barrett!" Ilya's voice boomed across the room as soon as he spotted them. "And Harris...and Coach..." His smile faltered. "What is going on? Barrett, you are not practicing?"
The room started to quiet as other players noticed the trio.
"I'm actually out for the whole season," Troy said, his voice steadier than he felt.
The room went completely silent.
"The whole season?" Luca squeaked out from his stall.
Troy swallowed hard. "Yeah, it's because...well, I'm..." He couldn't get the words out.
"Nothing shameful about it," Wyatt called from the back. "Just spit it out."
Troy's head whipped around. "Wait, you know?"
Wyatt shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I keep telling you all, I'm a goalie. I see everything." His eyes dropped meaningfully to Troy's midsection. "Including things people are trying to hide under baggy hoodies."
Troy felt his face flush. His hand moved instinctively to his stomach.
"Barrett?" Ilya's voice was uncertain now, confused. "What is Wyatt talking about?"
Troy looked at Harris, who gave him an encouraging nod. He took a deep breath.
"I'm pregnant," Troy said. "I'm twelve weeks pregnant. Harris and I are having a baby."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then, all at once, it erupted—cheering, congratulations, players rushing forward to clap Troy on the back.
"Holy shit, Barrett!"
"Congratulations, man!"
"You're having a baby!"
Ilya pulled Troy into a crushing hug, lifting him slightly off the ground before Harris cleared his throat pointedly. "Careful, Roz."
"Da, da, sorry!" Ilya set him down gently, grinning ear to ear. "This is amazing news!"
Dykstra was next, his handshake turning into an enthusiastic hug. "Dude, this is incredible!"
Troy felt tears prickling at his eyes. This was his team. His family.
"Settle down, guys," Wiebe called over the noise. The room gradually quieted, though everyone was still smiling. "We're all very excited for Troy and Harris, but this is big. Bigger than just our team."
The mood shifted slightly, players exchanging glances.
Wiebe continued, his voice serious. "Troy is going to be the first active NHL player to be publicly pregnant. That means media attention, scrutiny, and unfortunately, probably some ugly commentary. As his teammates, I need you all to have his back."
"Always," Ilya said immediately, and a chorus of agreement followed.
Troy's throat felt tight. "Thanks, guys."
Shane, ever the pragmatic one, spoke up. "How can we best support you? What's the plan going forward?" He looked between Troy, Harris, and Wiebe. "Will you have a press conference, or is Harris going to put something on the team's social media, or...?"
Troy glanced at Wiebe, realizing they hadn't actually discussed the details of going public.
"We need to coordinate with the league and the Players' Association," Wiebe said. "This is unprecedented, so we want to make sure Troy is protected legally and that we control the narrative as much as possible."
"I can handle the social media rollout," Harris said. "Once we have a plan. Personal statement first, then team statement, coordinate timing with any official league response."
"The league's going to want to bury this," Wyatt said.
"They can try," Wiebe said. "But Troy has rights, and we're going to make damn sure they're respected."
"What about practice?" Luca asked. "If Barrett's not playing, is he still going to be around?"
Troy looked up, uncertainty flooding him. He hadn't even thought about whether he'd still be welcome in the locker room, at practices, on the bench—
"Of course he is," Ilya said firmly before anyone else could speak. "He is still Centaur. Baby or no baby, he is our teammate."
A rumble of agreement went through the room.
Troy felt his eyes burning again. "Thanks, guys. I...I really appreciate it."
"So when's the baby due?" Bood asked, grinning. "And more importantly, can we throw you a baby shower?"
The tension broke, and laughter rippled through the locker room.
"Barrett, I have many questions," Ilya announced, his eyes bright with curiosity.
Shane groaned, rubbing his face. "Appropriate questions?"
"A mix," Ilya said with a shrug and an unapologetic grin.
More laughter erupted from the team.
"How about we let Troy breathe for a minute," Harris said, his arm sliding protectively around Troy's shoulders. "You can interrogate him later, Roz."
"Is not interrogation! Is genuine interest in teammate's life experience!" Ilya protested, though he was still smiling.
"Uh-huh," Shane said dryly.
Troy found himself laughing despite everything, the nerves, the uncertainty, the weight of what was coming. This was his team. These ridiculous, supportive, chaotic people were his family.
"Okay, everyone out," Wiebe said, clapping his hands. "We still have practice. Troy, Harris, my office so we can nail down next steps."
"Wait, wait, one question!" Ilya called out before anyone could leave. "Just one, I promise!"
Shane closed his eyes like he was praying for patience. "Ilya—"
"Where does baby come out?" Ilya asked, completely sincere.
The entire locker room erupted in groans and laughter.
Troy rolled his eyes, his face heating up. "The same way it went in, Ilya."
There was a beat of silence as that sank in, then—
"Oh," Ilya said, his eyes going wide. "Oh! That is...wow. That is...you are very brave, Barrett."
"Jesus Christ," Shane muttered, dragging his husband toward the door. "And on that note, we're leaving."
"What? Was legitimate question!" Ilya protested as he was pulled away. "I did not know the biology!"
"Ok, but maybe we could've Googled it instead of asking in front of the entire team," Shane said.
Troy was laughing now, shaking his head. Leave it to Ilya to ask the question everyone was probably wondering but too polite to voice.
Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder as he headed out. "For what it's worth, I think you're a badass."
"Thanks, Wyatt," Troy said, still grinning despite his embarrassment.
As the locker room emptied and the sounds of the team heading to the ice faded, Troy and Harris made their way back down the hallway to Wiebe's office.
Troy's hand found Harris's, their fingers lacing together automatically.
"You okay?" Harris asked softly.
Troy thought about it.
The shock of yesterday, the doctor's appointment, telling their families, the proposal, and now the team knowing. In less than twenty-four hours, his entire life had changed.
"Yeah," he said, surprised to find he meant it. "I think I am."
Harris squeezed his hand as they reached Wiebe's door.
Troy took a deep breath. The team had been amazing, their families supportive. But that was the easy part. Now came the real challenge...going public, facing the media, dealing with the league and whatever Crowell would try to throw at them.
He placed his free hand on his small bump, feeling the weight of what was coming.
"Ready?" Harris asked.
Troy looked at his fiancé, his partner, and the father of his child and nodded.
"Ready."
He knocked on Wiebe's door and braced himself for whatever came next.