Page 29 of The Official Problem
They hung up soon after. Matthieu only then realized how much time had slipped past. He was now officially late to meet Alexei at the gym. The coffee sat cold and forgotten on the counter. He reheated it, threw a change of clothes and a towel into his bag, and headed out the door.
Twenty minutes later, Matthieu pulled into the Inferno’s training facility, where Alexei was already waiting by the front doors.
“Everything okay?” Alexei asked as Matthieu approached, clearly concerned, even if he was only a few minutes late.
“Yeah. Got talking to Julie. Lost track of time.”
“Ma chérie!” Those two were absolutely insufferable. “Is Paris still treating her well?” Alexei asked, holding the door open before falling into step beside him.
“Too well. She wants to stay another semester. Says Paris suits her educational style better than New Jersey. Weird, huh?”
Alexei huffed, his brow creasing in that same concerned way Matthieu was starting to hate. Out of Matthieu’s depressingly small friend pool, Alexei was the only one who knew even a fraction of the mess that was his finances. He’d kept it buried for years, but one night, a few too many drinks had loosened his tongue, and most of the truth had spilled out.
At least the part about Julie and their mother’s care. The rest, the darker parts, he kept to himself. The ones where he wondered if he should even be taking care of her after everything she’d done. The guilt that crushed him every time he thought it. To Alexei and everyone else, Matthieu was the dutiful son, taking care of his poor, sick mother. Sometimes, he didn’t know why he bothered keeping up the act.
“You said the study abroad was expensive.”
It wasn’t a question, so Matthieu didn’t answer as he turned into the training room.
“I can help, if…”
“No, Alexei,” Matthieu cut him off. He valued their friendship too much to let money fuck it up. “I’ve got a plan. It’s fine. One more semester. After that, Julie will be working, and she can pay me back.” They both knew that was bullshit. He’d never take a cent from her.
“Okay. The offer still stands if you need it.” Alexei’s voice softened. At least he wasn’t the pushy type. “Let’s get warmed up.”
The gym, if you could even call this massive facility that, was mostly empty, aside from a few Inferno players lifting at the far end. Matthieu only recognized one of them out of uniform—Andre Nix, the starting goalie, who tossed a lazy wave their way.
He and Alexei headed in the opposite direction, toward the treadmills. Refs didn’t need to be as strong as players, but they had to keep their endurance up. The game moved fast at the NHL level. Even with four of them on the ice, it could feel like being in two places at once. Matthieu had to be fast, sharp, and constantly moving. That had been the biggest shock when he moved up from the AHL last year. The guys in the minors were quick, but in the NHL? Inhuman.
To keep up, he ran daily. Miles and miles, until his lungs burned and his stomach threatened to revolt. Better to hit that wall training than mid-game in front of twenty thousand people.
Matthieu quickly dropped into a zoned-out rhythm. Alexei ran beside him, but Matthieu barely registered his presence. The hum of the treadmill became his soundtrack. Most people found it strange he didn’t run with music, but to him, it was just noise—another distraction. Music let him pretend for a second that the outside world didn’t exist, that his life wasn’t quietly crumbling, held together by little more than tape.
What better motivation to run than trying to outrun his mind?
Eventually, Alexei tapped his arm and pointed toward the weight rack. He spent way more time lifting than Matthieu, and as a result, had significantly more upper-body mass. Matthieu waved him off. He still had miles to go before his legs gave out. After the week he’d had, he needed the punishment.
Alexei didn’t argue, but Matthieu caught the quick, nervous glance he shot toward the door. A second later, the reason for it appeared to Matthieu’s left.
“You got a minute?”
The voice made Matthieu flinch. He’d known this moment was coming, but still, every instinct screamed at him to tell Kieran to fuck off. Unfortunately, he was the one who owed the apology. More than one, really. He needed to beg for forgiveness, mercy, whatever Kieran was willing to give, and pray like hell he wouldn’t go to the league. Or, worse, the police.
“Yeah.” Matthieu kept his eyes forward, ignoring how breathy he sounded. That was the run, had to be. Not the way his heart jackhammered in his chest with Kieran standing so close. “Give me ten minutes.”
Kieran nodded toward the exit and strolled off, hands in his pockets, never looking back. Matthieu used every one of those ten minutes trying, and failing, to pull himself together.
By the time Matthieu found Kieran, most of the overwhelming anxiety had settled, enough for him to fake calm. Kieran stood at the end of the hall, staring so hard at a promotional poster that Matthieu doubted he was actually seeing it.
He wore gym clothes similar to Matthieu’s, except his were designer. Matthieu’s came from the Walmart clearance rack. Kieran’s hair was tousled, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His skin had that post-workout sheen, even though Matthieu hadn’t seen him lift a single weight. Matthieu’s gaze caught on a bead of sweat trailing down Kieran's temple, sliding along his neck, and?—
Before he could stop himself, Matthieu reached out, thumb brushing the yellowing bruise at the base of Kieran's neck. It matched. Perfectly. The realization made his stomach twist.
“Shit, Kieran, I…” Matthieu started, but he trailed off.
Kieran shook his head without looking up. “Not here,” he muttered, then turned and started down the hall toward a supply closet.
He opened the door and gestured Matthieu inside like it was a conference room and not a janitor’s closet. Matthieu didn’t argue. He stepped in and pressed himself as far back as the mop buckets would allow. The door clicked shut. The overhead light flickered on. The air instantly thinned as if every atom of oxygen had been sucked out of the cramped space.
