Page 33 of Goaltender Interference

When Matt left for the rink, Aiden spent about thirty minutes lying in their bed, until the warmth Matt’s body had left had definitely faded. The sheets were still rumpled, still smelled like sex, and every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghosts of Matt’s hands on him.

It was fucked up.

Hewas fucked up, mooning around over his ex like sleeping with him would make anything he’d done in the past any better. Like sleeping with him would change the fact that Aiden was turning thirty-seven soon and was basically freeloading in Matt’s condo because he had nothing better to do with his life.

The more he thought about it the more he could feel the old feelings rising up, like the room was suddenly too small, like the walls were closing in on him and crushing his lungs. He breathed through the sweaty, sick feeling until it passed, and then rolled over to grab his phone.

Aiden Googledtherapist montreal, wrote down a few names and made some phone calls.

It was awkward and uncomfortable making the calls. Part of him didn’t even know how to explain his situation. He wasn’tdepressed, he was just having a hard time with retirement,with the situation with Matt. It wasn’t something he needed medication for either, because...what would that even do? Medication wasn’t going to stop him from making stupid decisions about Matt. Medication wasn’t going to unretire him. He just had to get his head sorted out. That was all.

The therapist he ended up picking had immediate availability, more immediate than he’d expected.In fact,she’d said,I have some time today following a cancellation,and he’d had to make a last-minute leap of faith by sayingyes. Dr. Gauthier turned out to be a stocky, muscular woman maybe ten years older than he was, with the kind of thousand-yard stare and brusque, no-nonsense manner that instantly put him at ease. Like she would be completely unimpressed with whatever embarrassing thing he had to tell her.

She had a heavy Quebecois accent and had a laconic way of speaking that reminded him of every goalie coach he’d ever had.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, too, going to that first appointment, but it was a start. He felt shaky and anxious when he said goodbye and headed back, on his own, to Matt’s condo. But it was a start.

“Any news on the contract front, Cap?” Adam Morin asked.

They were in the locker room after practice, stripping down. Even though they’d won a Cup together, Matt couldn’t honestly say the Morin twins were his favorite teammates. They were both a bit full of themselves and tended to have an unerring big-sibling instinct for poking their noses exactly where they shouldn’t. Matt hadn’t envied their younger sister, Beatrice, having to grow up in their shadow, though she had just won a Cup herself and was doing quite well, far away from their judgment.

“No,” Matt said, “and there probably won’t be for the rest of the season. I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring it up. The last thing I want is for my situation to be a distraction.”

“Always a team player,” Adam drawled.

“Leave him alone,” Fournier said, in French.

“I’m just asking,” Adam replied in the same language, wounded look on his face.

“Well, don’t ask. Tabarnak, not everything is your business.”

After so many years in Montreal, Matt could easily understand the conversation. Technically he could respond in kind, but he still felt uncomfortable speaking. No matter how often he practiced his French, he still had a pronounced Ontario accent in it. He said, in English, “Thanks, Fourns. I got it from here.”

He tested out his knee again: it was aching a bit, but not enough that he worried about it just yet. Still, it was kind of a relief to get out of the practice facility and head home, knowing Aiden would be waiting for him.

For a second, Matt had the brief, stupid idea of surprising him with something: nice beer or takeout or a dessert, but Aiden didn’t drink much, and he was almost religious about eating healthily. Maybe Matt could...buy him a new yoga mat. Something, anything, that would show Aiden how much Matt wanted to fit him back into his life, make him comfortable in the condo.

In the end, all he had to give was himself, but judging from the way Aiden’s mouth gave underneath the eager kiss, that was enough.

“Hi,” Aiden said, a little breathlessly. He had pulled back a little so he could talk, but he was still close enough that all Matt could see were his eyes, huge and intent. Eyes you could drown in. “What was that for?”

“It’s just—nice to come home to someone,” Matt mumbled against the corner of his mouth. “It’s nice to come home toyou.”

“You’re going to get tired of me eventually.” Aiden swatted at Matt’s hands before he apparently changed his mind, grabbed Matt’s ass and pulled him into a closer embrace.

“I’m pretty sure that could never happen,” Matt said, and winced inwardly. Too honest too early. “What’ve you been up to today?”

Aiden went still in his arms and Matt wondered, yet again, if he’d said the wrong thing. Then he swallowed and took a deep breath, like he was gearing up to say something difficult. “I, uh...made an appointment with a therapist.”

“Yeah? That’s great, Aiden.”

“Yeah. Um. I had the intake appointment today. I don’t know how it’s going to go, but it felt bad just sitting around doing nothing, so at least I’m...taking steps. Right?”

“It’s awesome. I’m really proud of you.”

“Let’s wait and see how it goes before you go that far,” Aiden said, and Matt couldn’t help laughing. “Anyway, are you hungry? I made lunch.”

Matt leaned up on the tips of his toes so he could press his mouth briefly against Aiden’s forehead. This whole thing was stupid—it was too much like the way he’d have greeted a boyfriend, and Aiden was—he didn’t know what Aiden was. But it was worth it, watching the flush slowly color Aiden’s cheeks darker. “Could get used to this, eh?”

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