Page 54 of Goaltender Interference

Would you care to confirm a story for me?

What do you mean?

Sources say you’ve been living in Montreal. I’d love to talk if you have time for a phone call.

Aiden set the phone down on the table. He felt—not as bad as he thought he’d feel, given everything. He was honestly surprised it had taken this long, given the nature of social media and the Montreal hockey market and the fact that he had just been going about his business like everything was normal, when it wasn’t.

Ten years ago, he would’ve panicked.

Today, he thought,Nobody cares. Nothing really matters. We’re all going to die one day.The thoughts he had always had in the net, during a bad game, when he’d let in too many bad goals and needed to reset himself so he wouldn’t get pulled. The thoughts he’d had after he had ended things with Matt, when he was searching fruitlessly for something he had never been able to find with anyone else.

Today, he just felt tired.

He had to talk to Matt.

When Matt got home, Aiden told him what had happened, asked, “What do you want to do?”

Matt shrugged. “She’s your beat reporter. It’s your life. It’s up to you, buddy.”

“I mean—” Aiden wasn’t sure how to phrase it appropriately. “You’re the one who’s still playing; it’s your city. I don’t knowwhat she’s planning to write, but if you don’t—uh—want everyone to know about us, or to make assumptions...”

Matt just looked at him for a very long moment. If you didn’t know him as well as Aiden did, it looked like a very bland, unreadable expression. But Aiden did know him. He knew him well enough to immediately recognize that Matt looked tired and a little annoyed.

“Aiden, I never cared about anyone knowing. The fact that you did is at least half of the reason we broke up the first time.”

“I—” Aiden started to protest. But Matt was right, of course. He looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Like I said. I understand why you weren’t ready. But I would have done it. And I don’t really care if you do it now.”

“You’re still going to get so much shit on the ice—”

“Baby, you really think I can’t handle that? I’m thirty-six fucking years old—some kids chirping me isn’t going to be the end of the world. It never was.”

“It’s not always just chirping,” Aiden said, thinking about some of Gabe’s stories about juniors, about the way he’d been ready to fight anyone and everyone when he’d first come up to the show. “Even now, it’s not.”

“I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle it.”

“So you want me to—?”

“I’m saying, Aidy, you can do whatever you want about it. Confirm, deny, I don’t care. The puck’s always been in your zone on this one.”

“Okay,” Aiden said, and exhaled a breath that felt shakier than he was expecting.

“So think about it.”

He watched Matt, still in only his basketball shorts, folding laundry on the couch. It was one of those weird moments where Aiden could see how life could be, if he just let it keep going like this, if he didn’t fuck it up.

The kind of life where he could come home to someone folding laundry on the couch, half-naked, completely at ease with Aiden’s presence there during this mundane moment. The kind of life where he’d have clothes to fold, too. The kind of life where he wouldn’t have to worry about someone getting the wrong idea if, when they went out for dinner after, he wanted to touch Matt in public. The weight off of his shoulders that would be. To be able to live the kind of life that he actually wanted to live.

He was retired. He wasn’t playing anymore.

He had nothing to lose except Matt.

Again.

I think I’m going to come out,he said to Gabe, a little later.

uh what? now? i mean congrats but. wow?

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