Page 64 of The Official Problem
He was nearly done tidying when Alexei finally emerged. “I could find out for you.”
Matthieu scoffed. “Why would Kieran be more honest with you than he was with me?”
“I’ll ask Ivan.”
Matthieu got stuck on Alexei’s casual use of the player’s first name. The way it rolled off his tongue sounded so… familiar. “You don’t even know Ivan Petrov.”
Alexei sighed. “We have… a mutual friend.”
The tone Alexei used made it clear there was more to that story, but he held up a hand, signaling he wasn’t about to explain further.
“Would it change things?” Alexei finally asked. “If what you know now turns out to be the truth, then what?”
“It changes everything. I don’t know how to live with that.”
Because how the fuck was Matthieu supposed to look Kieran in the eye, knowing he’d thrown everything away over a half-heard sentence he hadn’t been brave enough to question? Ten goddamn years—wasted. Lost to fear, stubborn pride, and a truth he’d never let Kieran explain.
Maybe they wouldn’t have lasted. Maybe life would’ve pulled them apart anyway. Kieran would’ve still gone on to shine like he was born to. Matthieu still would’ve been called home to pick up the pieces of his family. At least then their break-up would’ve been real. Honest. Not built on a lie he let himself believe to make leaving easier.
He’d spent all this time mourning something he thought Kieran had destroyed. Hating Kieran. Hating himself. Believing he wasn’t enough—that he wasn’t worth loving.
All this time—all this fucking time—it was him.
He was the one who tore it all down. The one who walked away. The one who left Kieran bleeding while he ran. Like a coward.
Now he could never get those years back. Couldn’t undo the hurt. All he could do was live with the weight of it, knowing he’d thrown away something he should’ve held onto with both hands.
“We wasted so much time, Alexei,” Matthieu choked. “Time we’ll never get back.”
Alexei pulled Matthieu into his arms, rough and awkward, his body stiff with the discomfort of affection. He murmured something low and urgent in Russian against Matthieu’s temple. It wasn’t until those unfamiliar Slavic words brushed his skin that Matthieu realized he was crying—and didn’t even care. Apparently, everyone in his life was going to see how broken he was.
“You can’t change the past,” Alexei said, switching back to English. “You can only change how you move forward. If you love him—if you’ve loved him all this time—then you need to decide, right now, that you’re all in. You can’t get those years back, but you can make the most of the ones ahead.”
Alexei made it sound so damn simple. It couldn’t be more complicated.
“I’m scared,” Matthieu whispered.
“You’re scared because you already know what it’s like to lose him. If you don’t fight for it now, you won’t stand a chance of avoiding that again.”
Matthieu swallowed hard, the words clawing at his throat. His mind spun with everything that could go wrong—every risk waiting to crush him the second he dared to hope.
“What about the league?” he rasped. “Do you know what a nightmare it’d be if we were discovered?”
Alexei’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Believe me, I do. I won’t pretend it’ll be easy.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Even if you intend to keep it a secret—even if you keep this behind closed doors—you need to be careful. If it gets out, they’ll dig into every call you’ve made in an Inferno game. They’llanalyze it under a microscope, looking for signs you showed him favoritism.”
The thought twisted Matthieu’s stomach. All those long hours of training, the years he’d spent clawing his way up through the ranks, could all vanish like smoke.
“I could lose my job,” he said hollowly.
“You could.” Alexei pulled back to meet Matthieu’s eyes. “Tell me—is your job worth more than your heart?”
Matthieu drew a shaky breath. The rational answer should’ve been yes. Of course it was. How could one man be worth throwing away a dream he’d worked so hard to achieve? But the truth wasn’t rational. It was messy, terrifying, and dangerous. Yet standing here, bleeding out with regret, Matthieu found he already knew.
Nothing mattered more than Kieran.
TWENTY-FOUR
KIERAN
