Page 89 of Goaltender Interference

“Been a while,” he agreed, as they crouched.

“Knee holding up?”

“Yup. Team holding up?”

“Barely.”

“All right, gentlemen,” the linesman said, rolling his eyes. “When we’re all done with the social call, we’ve got a hockey game to play.”

“Yes, sir,” they said, in unison, and Williams cracked another one of those smiles as the puck dropped and Matt put his shoulder into it, knocking Williams on his ass with the force of the push. He’d had that problem when he was younger, before he’d figured out his center of gravity.

“Sorry,” Matt called over his shoulder, as he left Williams to pick himself up from the ice and went skating off to catch up with Adam Morin and the puck.

That was the thing: he couldstilldo this. He was still doing this. Knee aside, Aiden’s problems aside—Matt couldstill do this. He wasn’t ready to give it up, not yet.

He wondered if Aiden was watching. He wondered if he would be there, with the WAGs, when Matt got off the ice. Matt shook his head again and ground his teeth together. He had to concentrate on the game. So he did.

Dr. Gauthier’s office got a lot of natural sunlight, and she had a knack for plants. It reminded Aiden a little of Matt’s condo, filled with green leaves curling eagerly toward the windows. He also, instinctively, turned toward the window, and her chair. Squinted a little against the sun.

“I think—maybe—I thought of something I might be interested in doing.”

“That’s wonderful. What is it?”

“Uh...coaching. But specifically coaching, teaching kids? I’ve been working with Matt’s niece, and my rookie is...well, it was rewarding teaching him, too, but I think maybe it’s easier to work with kids than young adults.”

Now that it was out in the world, it was real. It felt more solid.

“You’re certainly qualified to do this, Aiden. Is there something you’re concerned about?”

“Just, uh, the logistics. You know.”

“You can do research and figure all of this out. The important thing is to allow yourself to envision the possibility.”

Aiden knew a lot about envisioning things, although the efficacy of those visualizations over the years remained in doubt. The problem was allowing himself to go further, and he didn’t know how to get around that.

Matt had started dreading the road trips, not just because they were long, but because Aiden looked so fucking sad when he went on them. This one was rough even in better times—through California and Seattle and up to Vancouver. The time zone difference was actual hell. And he’d be gone for ten days, and he wasn’t looking forward to treatments from the medical staff on the road, outside of the familiar facilities in Montreal. It was exhausting to play, but it was even worse, now, knowingthat Aiden was going to be waiting for him at home, and he wouldn’t be there to do—well, anything.

“Hey,” Matt said, “since I’m going to be gone for a while, how about we actually... I don’t know. Let’s have a date day.”

“A what?” Aiden said, blinking.

“Just a day to spend together. No hockey. Just you and me, and Montreal.”

“Matty, you don’t have to...”

“Come on,” Matt said firmly, “I’m not giving you an option. Get your coat, Aidy.”

Although Aiden looked doubtful, he obeyed. Matt had run through his little mental list of places he had long ago thought about taking Aiden, and the Botanical Gardens were one of them. It didn’t matter that it was winter, that there was snow on the ground: the gardens were open year-round, and even offered the option for cross-country skiing, if you were so inclined. Matt, who didn’t want to risk hurting himself any worse on something that wasn’t even hockey, opted for the walk instead.

Although a few other people had had the same idea, it was cold enough that it wasn’t very crowded. The snow was still falling lightly, little flurries that stuck to the edges of Aiden’s eyelashes before he blinked and they fell away or melted with the heat of his body. It was a fresh snow that hadn’t been trampled yet, and the air trembled with the chilly snap, the sky still white and gray.

They walked in companionable silence through the park, and Matt watched Aiden’s face slowly lose some of the anguish that it often had in moments where he thought Matt wasn’t watching. It was enough just to enjoy the heavy silence of the morning, broken only by the noise of birds, the snap of branches, the crush of snow falling from them to the ground, his own breath in his ears.

Feeling a bit daring, he slipped his hand into Aiden’s, both of their fingers freezing from the chill and slowly warming against each other. Aiden shot him a surprised look, a glance sideways that said,are you sure?Matt couldn’t answer in words, just squeezed his hand, silent, and kept walking.

By the time they made their way through the Chinese Garden, enough snow had fallen and iced on the trees that it had the look of a toy box scene, the perfectly laden branches hanging over the impossibly clear water, atop the red roofs of the pagoda.

As they walked through the stone courtyard, Aiden looked up at the sky again, and for once, he didn’t look anything except at peace, and something in Matt’s chest eased infinitesimally.

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