Page 83 of Goaltender Interference

“Yeah,” Saari said. He had his own injury history and several surgeries, and he knew how the eighty-two-game season really wore down on you after a while. No matter how you prepared or tried to take preventative measures or treatments, the parts of your body that had been surgically repaired let you know. “Fuck, Matti, I’m sorry. You’re probably stressed enough about this. I don’t need to add to it.”

“I mean...it’s nice to know you’d miss me, I guess.”

Instead of answering, Saari elbowed him in the side. “Fuck off, man. Do you really not understand how important you are to this team?”

Matt didn’t answer, just shook his head and let it go. Being the captain of the team meant a lot of responsibilities, on ice and off, and he wondered how well he’d been doing at the off-ice responsibilities so far this year. He’d been distracted by Aiden falling back into his life, hadn’t been as on top of things as he normally would have been. He made a resolution that heneededto spend more time away from home, as tempting as it was to just run back to Aiden as soon as the plane touched down at YUL. The rookies—especially Jack—needed to have him around.

Especially if he wouldn’t be here next season.

It was funny, thinking about it: the idea of playing anywhere except Montreal turned his stomach. It still felt like he had unfinished business here, the drive to feel satisfied with what he’d done cemented. Maybe he would do what he’d threatened to do when they were talking about trading him to New York: just retire instead. Not that hewantedto retire. Not that he had any idea what he’ddoif he retired. He was seeing the effects of it in his own home, Aiden sadly moping around the condowithout anything to do. Not that Matt would be any better. His only hobbies were typical hockey player hobbies: golf, fishing, fantasy football. Nothing you could translate into a fuckingjob.

Matt rubbed his eyes and wondered, yet again, why they didn’t fucking give you advice about this when you got drafted. To maybe try to take classes or something, to think about what was going to happen when your body gave out on you or your brain had been through one too many concussions. When he tried to think of whathewould do, what he’d be good at, his brain just blanked out. A lot of guys went into business, or real estate, or shit like that, and Matt couldn’t see himself enjoying any of it. It was one thing to jokingly suggest career paths to Aiden, another altogether to visualize it for himself.

Maybe enjoying it wasn’t the point. Maybe you just had todosomething, anything, to keep busy. He had enough money not to work, but the thought of just sitting around, with no purpose to the day, was vaguely terrifying.

Then again, he had Aiden. Maybe...they could just have a life together. A quiet, purposeless life. No responsibilities, nowhere to be, nothing to worry about except each other. The idea was strangely appealing, if unrealistic.

And then they were landing, and he was too busy to worry about anything else. He wondered whether or not he should ask Aiden about checking in on his family, whether they would be upset by it. Aiden himself seemed a little distant and sad that night, which Matt had just chalked up to the absence.

“I’ll be home before you know it, baby,” Matt said, already falling asleep: travel nights always did that to him.

“I know,” Aiden said, and smiled. It was a weak smile, but sincere. “I just miss you when you’re gone, kind of...a lot.”

When he said shit like that it took almost everything Matt had in him not to call his general manager and tell him he couldn’t play anymore, he had to go home, it was family business. Hecouldn’t do any of that, obviously. But he thought about it. He wondered whether Aiden would think it was weird, if he told him. Probably. Probably it’d be too much. He didn’t say it, just closed his eyes and said, “I’ll be home soon, Aidy, I promise.”

“Knee holding up?” Aiden asked, the way he had started doing every call.

“Yes, Mom.”

Aiden smiled, a little sad, still. “I won’t keep you, Matt. Sleep well?”

“You too, baby.”

At morning skate the next day, Matt took the time to make sure that all of the rookies were on track with the drills, and that Coach Roy wasn’t pushing them too hard in the process. He pushedhimselftoo hard and was grateful by the time the practice ended and he could take a long, hot shower.

By the time he finished up and was headed out from the visitors’ locker rooms and to the garage where the bus was waiting, ready to head back to the hotel for an afternoon nap before the game, he abruptly came to a halt, almost tripped over his own feet.

Aiden’s mother, Shilpa, was standing outside of the door, lurking like she was an assassin about to pounce.

“Ms. Parekh,” Matt said, shocked. “I—hello? What are you—howare you? Shouldn’t you be in court?”

Considering Aiden was pretty tall—at least four inches taller than Matt—it had always amused him just how tiny his mother was. Shilpa Parekh stood a little over five feet tall, even in her short heels, although she had Aiden’s slim build, his huge brown eyes and distinctive nose. Her wavy, salt-and-pepper hair was cut short in a bob, and she was still dressed in her usual work clothes, a severely cut pantsuit that made her look like she should have been starring in some kind of legal drama. She and Aiden’s father—a sad man whose posture always looked vaguelydefeated—were a strangely matched pair, but it had always been clear who was the driver of that particular bus.

She looked over the rim of her thick-framed glasses at him. “Hello, Matthew. Please, after all of this time, I’m still Shilpa to you. You don’t need to stand on ceremony. And I took some time off to come and see you.”

“I’m, ah, honored,” he said, even though the more correct word wasterrified. Around them, the rest of his teammates were headed out toward the garage as well. Some of them pretended not to see; a few of them shot curious glances in his direction. He might miss the bus, at this rate, but it would be worth it.

Shilpa raised one eyebrow. “Why don’t we walk and talk, so we have a little privacy?”

“Sure,” Matt said, because saying no to her wasn’t an option.

They walked a little farther down the hall, in the opposite direction, and Matt waited for her to lead the conversation. It was strange, seeing her in person again; equally strange that she didn’t seem upset to see him, after everything.

“This is very awkward,” she said, after a pause. “I just wanted to—I wanted to check in. And see howyouare doing. And see how Aiden is doing. He doesn’t talk to us very much anymore, and I worry about him.”

Matt’s mouth went dry. “I, uh, I’m fine? Just getting through the season, you know. It’s a grind, even this early.”

“And my son?” Shilpa pressed. She had that hawk-like look on her face that probably terrified opposing counsel almost as much as it terrified Matt.

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