Page 32 of Goaltender Interference

Aiden looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Same dark circles under his eyes, same lines at the corner of his mouth. His hair wet from the shower, hanging beyond the nape of his neck, almost brushed his shoulders.

I want you every way I can have you.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to get out of this. Now that the high had faded the reality of the situation set in. Here he was, in Montreal, almost thirty-seven, making the same mistakes he’d made in his twenties. Except back then, he still had his entire future ahead of him. Now he had—what?

Aiden turned the sink on, leaned down and stuck his face under the cold running water.

If this was the only way he could have Matt, he’d take it.

By the time he collected himself and went back into the bedroom, Matt had already fallen asleep, still on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. Aiden stopped and just stared at him for a second, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the line of his stomach, his arm slowly dropping to rest against the blanket, the way his dark eyelashes looked against his skin, the dumb half-smile tugging his mouth up.

He did his best to clean Matt up without waking him, thought,you fucking moron, and got back into bed.

When Matt woke up, Aiden was still asleep. It was like he hadn’t slept in so long that now that he’d made his way back to Matt’s bed again, he was making up for lost time. Matt looked down at him, the dark bruised eyelids and slack mouth, and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. It was insane how different he looked with long hair. Not worse, just so different.

Whenever Matt used to think about him, in the long years they’d been apart, he pictured Aiden the same way he’d looked when they’d first met: his pretty baby face and his perfect hair and his pouty mouth. It was difficult wrapping his head around the fact that he’d broken up with a boy and Aiden was a man, with a history of years Matt didn’t know, habits he hadn’t become familiar with and sad eyes he couldn’t change.

Well. Aiden hadn’t looked like that last night. Aiden had looked—

Okay.

Matt had to stop doing this, or he was never going to get up and go to practice. He showered, even though he’d have to do it again after the skate, because if he showed up in Brossard smelling likethatthe guys would never let him live it down. And he didn’t want to set a bad example for the rookies. But he wasdistracted, his brain turning over and over the way Aiden had sounded, gaspingthank you, knowing that sex was a fucking stupid idea, unable to turn the car around before it went off the cliff.

Rookie camp wouldn’t start for a few weeks, but a lot of the kids who would be there had stayed in Montreal after dev camp, and were coming to the practice facility to skate with the major league regulars and get their reps in. When Matt was younger, he had done that too, and even participated in exhibition games and a summer three-on-three league for fun. Now that he was older and his knee was fucked up, he had to conserve his energy and ligaments, but he still liked to work with the kids.

He remembered when he had first gotten called up, how much it had meant to him when Gavin Weaver, the longtime captain of the Royal, had immediately introduced himself and invited Matt out for dinner. He made sure to fill that same role for the new kids, even if he was already aching a few games into the preseason.

Aiden was still sleeping when Matt came out of the bathroom. He dressed as quietly as possible. Passing by the bed on his way out, he paused, a stupid instinct gripping him. He leaned down and kissed Aiden’s temple. Barely a touch. But it was just—after the night before, it felt wrong to leave withoutanything, even if Aiden didn’t know he’d done it.

It felt good to get back on the ice, even though Jammer immediately saw the hickey Aiden had left on his collarbone, red and tender, and made a loud noise of amusement that really sounded more like a hoot.

“Damn, Cap!” he said, his usually expressionless eyes dancing with laughter. “Sowing your wild oats before the season starts, huh?”

The rookies stared at them, unsure of how to proceed. There was always the regular chirping you’d get in the locker room,but Matt was thecaptain. Matt had broughtCupshome to Montreal. That was different, right?

Matt knew how he was supposed to respond—laughing or bragging or making a joke out of it—but he couldn’t. Sleeping with Aiden felt fragile and new and like something he desperately needed to protect. Hecouldn’tlaugh about it. But not saying anything was making this more awkward and weird than a hookup had any right to be.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling his Under Armour over his head, “your mom was pretty great last night.”

“Hey,” Jammer said, hurt. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought it was cute you’re finally getting out there after Emily.”

For a second, Matt had to bite down the urge to laugh hysterically—after Emily, like that had done anywhere near the kind of damage that Aiden had done to him, that Aiden continued to wreak. Maybe he’d tell Jammer one day, when the rookies weren’t staring at them like they weren’t sure if they should say something or jump in or pretend they hadn’t heard any of it at all. For now, he sighed. “Cute?Really, Jams?”

“Hey,” Jammer said, wriggling into his pads—he was one of the few guys who didn’t play with any kind of underlayer at all. “I’m at ease with my masculinity. If you’re cute, I’m gonna tell you you’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, dryly. “Huge boost to my ego, bud.”

“Anytime,” Jammer said, reaching over to knuckle his fist against Matt’s head, before they both went back to dressing, Matt pulling his socks and pants on, and Jammer adjusting his straps. “That’s what you keep me around for.”

“That, and to quarterback the power play.”

Jammer waved his hand, unconcerned. “Priorities, Cap.”

Matt threw himself into the practice, making sure that Cormier and Crane were settled in, making sure that he wasn’t pushing his knee too hard. But the whole time, he was aware ofhis clothes and gear rubbing against the bite, of Aiden at home, waiting for him.

If he was a little off his game, who could really blame him?

Aiden had woken up when Matt was in the shower, but stayed with his eyes closed just because he didn’t trust himself to say anything. When Matt leaned down and pressed his lips against his head, Aiden’s chest lurched like he’d been in some kind of centrifuge. It was such a stupid, tender gesture, and Aiden didn’tdeserve it.

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