Page 64 of Goaltender Interference

Aiden spent most of the night tossing and turning in his bed, which was usually comfortable but currently felt both foreign and unusually empty, like a hotel bed. It was like without Matt, even his home wasn’t home anymore.

He gave up around four in the morning and just got up, ended up spending the rest of his time going through his closet and picking out a few cold-weather items to bring back to Montreal with him. When that was done, he threw the clothes he was wearing yesterday in the washing machine, because they still smelled like Pears’ game-day sweat and it was making Aiden feel itchy and anxious.

Pears showed up along with the sunrise, bearing breakfast sandwiches and coffee from the bodega around the corner from Aiden’s house, and a small carton of oat milk. Aiden, who had no food in his house anymore, accepted it, even if it was decidedlynotwhat he usually ate in the mornings. They mostly ate in silence, because the combination of soft egg and bacon and toasted bagel meant that if you weren’t careful your breakfast ended up squirting all over the plate. Pears licked his fingers when they were done, heaving a huge sigh of satisfaction. They talked a bit about the Libs’ preseason so far, how the new kids were settling in, how the new coach had been in the offseason.

Pears adjusted his snapback, rubbed his eyes a little sleepily. “It’s good to have you back in New York, bro, even if it’s just for a day.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“Really? Seems like you’re pretty settled in up there.”

“No... I don’t know. I thought it was only for the summer, but now it’s just... I don’t really know.”

Pears poured some oat milk into his coffee, tasted it, made a face and then dumped another large spoonful of sugar in. “Okay,” he said, and took another sip. “But why don’t you know?”

“I don’t want to, you know. Ruin what I’ve got right now.”

“If you don’t, you’re gonna make it worse.”

Aiden pushed his own coffee mug back and forth between his hands. “I did start going to therapy, you know.”

“Huh. Are you, like, actually paying attention? Are you actually trying?”

“Yes, Isaac.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m just wondering, like, what are you actually afraid of?”

Aiden shrugged. “If I fuck it up again, I come back here, and then I’m just...right back where I started. Right now in Montreal, it’s not easy, but I have kind of a life, and I’m helping Matt’s niece with goalie things, and Matt is—Matt. It’s just easier dealing with everything else when I have that—when I have him.”

“You can still have all of that shit, man. What’s actually stopping you from making it real?”

“Me?”

Pears laughed his honking laugh. “Now there’s that therapy insight, buddy. But what are you gonnadoabout it?”

“Thanks,” Aiden said, sourly, put the oat milk back in the fridge and did not answer the question. Mom had texted him a few times—she must have been watching the home opener and saw him on the Jumbotron—but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her. He had gone home, and it was good, but also a mistake. A huge, huge fucking mistake. And no, he wasn’t coming back to Winnipeg.

That’d go over really well.

He took a cab to JFK.

sorry abt the whole last night thing,Gabe said, while Aiden was waiting to board.if it made u uncomfortable.

Nothing to apologize for, buddy. And I’m sorry too. About everything else.

ok. just as long as were clear.

Aiden sent him a thumbs-up emoji.

When he deplaned at YUL and slouched his way through the terminal, the first thing he really saw was Matt waiting for him by the baggage claim, texting someone, a little frown knitting his eyebrows together. When he looked up and saw Aiden coming toward him, his face immediately changed: a broad, open smile. Aiden had a moment of vertigo when he realized that itdidfeel like coming home.

Except it wasn’t his home, and he was too chickenshit to make it his home, and he didn’t even know if Matt would want that, anyway, and—

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” Aiden lied.

Chapter Seven

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