Page 101 of The Official Problem
Matthieu didn’t answer. Not with words. Just one more kiss—gentle and lingering, the kind that said everything he couldn’t. When they finally broke apart, they didn’t move far. The exit loomed beside them, the muffled hum of reporters and fans bleeding through the metal doors. A thin crack of light cut across the floor, almost like a path pointing the way ahead.
Kieran’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “You ready to face this, or do you need another moment?”
Matthieu let out a rough laugh. “Let’s get it over with. I want to get you home and show you exactly who you belong to.”
The way Kieran flushed, lips parting around a breathless “Oh?” made heat curl low in Matthieu’s stomach. He loved that look—Kieran undone, pliant, all for him. Yes. When they finally made it home, he’d show Kieran exactly what he meant to him. Exactly who owned his soul.
They reached for the door, and Matthieu felt the crowd’s vibration on the other side. Kieran pushed it open an inch, enough for the sound to slam into them: shouts, questions, the shriek of cameras. Instinctively, Kieran shifted, his body angling like a shield. For one heartbeat, Matthieu let him. Old habits to stay in the shadows tugged at him, but that wasn’t who he was anymore. Not with Kieran by his side. Not after everything they’d fought through to get here. He wasn’t going to hide. Not when Kieran had just walked away from the league.
Matthieu stepped up until their shoulders brushed, sliding his hand back into Kieran’s and lacing their fingers tight. Hischin lifted. His pulse thundered, yet for once it wasn’t fear in his veins; it was certainty. Fierce, grounding certainty.
Side by side. Facing everything. Together.
The doors banged wide, and the world came crashing in: lights, flashes, the deafening roar of voices.
“What’s next for you, Kieran?” someone shouted.
“What’s next?” Kieran’s gaze found Matthieu’s, and even with a hundred cameras screaming for his attention, he spoke as if there was only one man on the planet. “I get to build a future with the man who taught me what love really is—the strongest, most fearless man I’ve ever known. He’s my heart. My home. My reason for everything. What’s next is the rest of my life—our life.”
Matthieu’s throat went tight. For so long, he’d been certain he wasn’t worth this kind of devotion. Yet here was Kieran, telling the entire world he was worth everything. Matthieu wanted to drag him back inside, shove him against the wall, and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Instead, with the storm blazing around them, Kieran turned that secret smile on him—the one that had wrecked him years ago and was wrecking him all over again.
“You ready to go home, Matty?”
“Sweetheart, I’m already there.”
EPILOGUE
IVAN
Ivan looked down at his phone. It had been a day. A long one. One that started with news he still couldn’t make sense of and ended with the unimaginable. It didn’t matter how long today had been; the next one would be longer. Tomorrow, he’d have to walk into a fractured locker room and somehow try to put it back together—at least long enough to make it through the playoffs.
Not that they had a real shot at the Cup.
Even if, by some miracle, they rallied enough to play, without Kieran on the front line, it was pointless. The hole he’d left in their offense was too big. The betrayal he’d left in their hearts was too painful.
A shuffle of feet signaled Jasper’s presence. He slipped into the room, approaching like someone might approach a bear. Ivan didn’t have the energy for this. If Jasper was here to deliver another lecture, it might push him over the edge he’d been walking all day.
To his surprise, his husband said nothing, only held out a folded sheet of paper. Ivan took it. His eyes tracked the lines, brain struggling to arrange and decode the kind of complicated language Jasper liked to use in his writing. Reading English had always been hard. When he was this exhausted, he might as wellnot bother. Still, he forced himself through it—better that than ask Jasper to read it aloud, like he was a child.
The words writhed across the page, but he managed enough to get the gist, at least. It hurt. “You are publishing this?”
“It’s already done.” Jasper glanced away, knowing better than to meet Ivan’s gaze.
Ivan didn’t get angry often. He was a huge man: tall, muscular, with sharp green eyes, a dark beard, and shaggy hair—a look that put the fear of God in people, even when he smiled. Yet he felt anger now.
Sensing it, Jasper added, “I wanted you to hear it from me instead of reading about it tomorrow. I didn’t have to show you.”
Ivan crumpled the paper. It was that or shake his husband. He would never lay a hand on Jasper, but he wanted to—and not in the passionate way he’d been dreaming about for weeks, either. Not right now.
Kieran was more than a teammate. He was a good friend. They’d shared so much over the years, but Ivan hadn’t seen this coming.
Hadn’t he?
Sure, he might’ve suspected something. He’d noticed the shift in Kieran, seen happiness creep into his life. If Ivan had let himself believe what was right in front of him, he would’ve seen what those longing glances across the ice had really meant. That secret smile Kieran only wore when a certain official was near.
It had been right in front of him, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own mess to notice. It wasn’t his own blindness that stung. No—it was that Kieran hadn’t told him about the man making him so damn happy. If Kieran had valued Ivan the way Ivan valued him, Kieran would’ve come to him before it all exploded. He’d thought they’d meant more to each other than that, which wasn’t fair. Ivan hadn’t told Kieran the truth either.
“What if this was us?” He turned to Jasper, pressing the crumpled paper into his palm. “What if someone else write this about you and me? Hm? How would you feel?”
