Page 84 of Goaltender Interference

“I think maybe it’s his place to tell you,” Matt said, as politely as he could. “I promise you that he’s as comfortable and happy in Montreal as I can make him.”

She softened, visibly. “I know. You were always good to him, even before things...”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Matt said, even though he wasn’t sure what she was going to say after that. “It wasn’t either of our faults. It was just a bad time for the things I wanted, and I didn’t blame him at all for how he reacted when I made some really stupid choices after.”

“I know.” Shilpa shook her head. “That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about himnow. He hasn’t taken retirement well, and you... I know how much he loved you. But sometimes, I don’t think he knows what to do with all of those feelings. And the combination of things. I just... I worry.”

Matt ran his hand through his hair, which was still damp from the shower. “I mean, I understand. I wish he’d talk to you himself. I don’t want to overstep.”

“You were always such a good boy, you know. I’m sorry things went like they did.” Shilpa looked up at him, serious but fond.

“It’s fine. It’s—we both had a lot of growing up to do.”

“That’s for certain.” She looked down the hallway, where a few of the rookies were lingering. “It’s strange to see you now, all grown up, the veteran captain. I see you’ve got some gray hairs.”

“That’s all Aiden,” Matt said, dryly, and she laughed.

“Mine, too, if I’m being quite honest. All right, Matthew. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to...see you. To make sure you’re still the same person Aiden fell in love with the first time. To tell you I’m worried about him. Just the small things, eh?”

“Only the small things,” Matt agreed, and hesitated. She did it for him, though, stepped forward with her arms open to hug him. She was small but quite strong, the embrace brief but fierce.

“I can’t say I wish you luck tonight,” Shilpa said, with a half-smile, “no matter what happens, I can’t quite bring myself to root for Montreal, but Matthew—take care of yourself. And him.”

“I will,” he promised. “I am.”

“Good,” Shilpa said, and turned. He could hear the sound of her heels clicking as she walked away.

Matt took a deep breath, tried to settle his rattled nerves and picked up his pace so he wouldn’t miss the bus.

When he got home, Aiden was waiting up for him again, and Matt had the little thrill in his stomach when he realized. “Hey, baby,” he said, as he dropped his bags. It was becoming familiar: the drop, the eager step forward, the way Aiden would melt into his arms immediately after.

“Hi,” Aiden said, his eyes crinkling a little in a smile. “I, um, got a few things for the condo while you were gone, this time. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Things?” Matt asked, blinking.

“Yeah. I upgraded the blender for breakfast stuff. And you were talking about that new book about that Roman philosopher you like, so I uh, bought a copy of that, too.” He looked almost embarrassed by the gesture, although maybe that was Matt’s imagination. It was pretty late.

Matt leaned up to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, Aiden. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, his hand tracing over the lines of Matt’s back, like if he didn’t touch him constantly, relearn the shape constantly, he’d forget what it felt like. “I just wanted to do something foryou. And it’s hard when you’re on the road so often.”

“Aiden,” Matt said, seriously, “you do so much for me already. Just by being here. Do you understand?”

Aiden wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, I do. But hey, come on, it’s so late. Will you come to bed?”

Matt said, the way he always did: “Yes.”

Adjusting to life in Montreal while Matt was on the road was a strange experience. They still FaceTimed after most of the games, although half of the time Matt was on the verge of falling asleep, but that was fine. It almost reminded him of when things first started, the little swoop of excitement he’d get when he realized Matt was calling.

But the day-to-day existence of living without a purpose, in a city that wasn’t his, in a house that was partially his but only in a weird in-between way, in a place where Matt was really the only person heknew, was really starting to do his head in.

He was folding a load of laundry while Matt was at practice and he looked up at the calendar and realized that even though a lot of time had passed already, he was still going to have to make it through the rest of the season. And if he stayed for any length of time, thewhole eighty-two gamesnext season. At the thought of it, Aiden’s skin started feeling a little itchy, the room too small.

It wasn’t a full-blown panic attack, exactly, but he had to take some time in the bathroom, his head on the cold porcelain of the tub, eyes closed while he focused on the feeling of his breath, in and out, in and out, his lungs filling and emptying.

He could distract himself a little with emails to Ellie, who was the actual starting goalie on her mites team now, and who had specific questions about the angle she should be sharpening her skates for better lateral movement or what kinds of stretching exercises she should be doing before games, and who would occasionally send him a video of her doing drills to ask for his opinion on her form.

Aiden took his time to think about his responses and compose the best possible answers for her but at a certain point, he was emailing advice to a five-year-old, and as much as he enjoyed doing it, there was only so much time he could spend on that before the reality of his situation started to sink in.

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