Page 15 of The Official Problem
The last couple of hours had actually been fun. The kids were eager to show off their skills to their idols, who spent nearly two hours playing alongside them, offering tips and tricks as they went. Several players showed real promise, if Matthieu was a reliable judge of such things. He wouldn’t be surprised to see some of them on ESPN one day, playing in the big leagues. Maybe he’d even get to officiate one of their games.
Cynthia quickly split the group into two teams while a few kids removed the partitions from the ice, resetting it to regulation. Stirling, Vahlgreen, and Mercier formed one teamwith Cynthia in goal, while Kessler, Kieran, and Matthieu faced them with Andre in net.
Clearly, this had been arranged with optics in mind. The press would’ve run wild with Matthieu facing off against Kieran, but showing them on the same side gave the NHL exactly the image it wanted.
Look, we’re friends. Nothing to see here.
They bent low for the face-off, and Matthieu stole a glance at Kieran, lined up to his right. A sight Matthieu hadn’t seen since college, one he’d longed for every day since. Kieran must’ve felt his stare because he turned and met Matthieu’s gaze.
“You remember how to do this, old man?” Kieran teased, though he looked like he regretted it immediately. Banter had once been their chosen communication style. However, things were different now. Kieran was different now.
Matthieu flashed him a smile and shot back, “Watch and take notes.”
Seconds later, the kid acting as official blew the whistle and dropped the puck. Matthieu took off. He beat Vahlgreen effortlessly, which was embarrassing, considering the guy was paid millions to win face-offs, then dodged Mercier and flew toward the net. Cynthia crouched low in the crease, eyes sharp as Matthieu glided toward her. Stirling appeared out of nowhere, but Matthieu didn’t hesitate. His eyes locked with Kieran’s, and he slapped the puck his way. It met the tip of Kieran’s stick like it was magnetized.
Kieran swerved around Vahlgreen, eager to redeem himself, and dropped the puck back to Kessler to avoid losing it. Kessler fed it to a now-open Matthieu. Matthieu pulled back like he was about to shoot, then faked and sent the puck back to Kieran, who hammered it into the upper right corner of the net.
The kids roared, jumping to their feet and heckling Cynthia for missing the save. Matthieu didn’t blame her. The goal wasa beauty, and the pass that set it up was a work of art. It might’ve been conceited, but Matthieu doubted many NHL goalies would’ve stopped it.
“We still got it, then?” Kieran asked, head tilted back in laughter. The sound nearly undid Matthieu. “Who knew you still had it in you?”
He patted Matthieu’s shoulder as they skated back to center ice. Matthieu tried not to flinch, but Kieran pulled his hand away just as fast.
“What do you say? Think we can get another one?” Matthieu tried to tease around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.
“All day, baby. All day.”
As the charity event wrapped up, Matthieu let out a long sigh of relief. In truth, it hadn’t been that bad. The kids had been fantastic, the press got their photos, the NHL got its good publicity, and most importantly, he and Kieran had managed not to kill each other. He might even go so far as to call the morning fun.
The players were giving their goodbyes on the ice. None of the kids had come to see him, so Matthieu slipped back to the locker room, hoping to escape before Kieran inevitably came looking.
They’d gotten along well together during the event. For a moment, it had felt like old times. The two of them, playing together, making play after play, sinking shot after shot into the net. Matthieu had always played his best hockey with Kieran by his side, and in the moment, the endorphin rush of beingreunited had been… nice. But the high was fading now, and the nostalgia creeping in was a little too painful to face. He didn’t have the energy for a forced conversation.
He undressed quickly in the empty locker room, deciding to skip the shower he probably needed, and pulled on his street clothes instead. His apartment wasn’t far. He could shower there.
As he zipped up his old, beat-up pads, the same ones he’d worn in college, the sound of the other players coming down the chute drifted in. That was the sign he needed to get out of dodge. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Andre Nix was the first through the doors.
“There you are!” Andre exclaimed, like maybe he’d been searching for him.
Nix was a good guy, professional on the ice, quiet family man off of it, and, from what Matthieu had heard, a regular at events like this.
“We were all going to grab some lunch. Want to join?”
This was precisely what Matthieu had been trying to avoid. Truthfully, he’d love to grab lunch with the guys, maybe even a beer. He rarely got the chance to hang out or meet new people. But the thought of sitting across from Kieran? He couldn’t do that without giving away how just being near him again was splitting him in two.
He couldn’t say that, of course, so he fell back on his usual excuse. “It’s probably best I don’t. Would hate the press to spin it into something it’s not.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. A few pictures of him splitting a pizza with a couple of Inferno players, followed by a bad call on the ice, and the press would have a field day accusing him of favoritism. After last spring, Matthieu didn’t need to give Scott another reason to fire him.
“You’re probably right.” Matthieu was glad Andre didn’t fight him on it.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and made a beeline for the exit as Kieran and Louis walked in. They were deep in conversation about something or other. The younger player’s eyes twinkled as he looked up at his idol. Kieran was all charm and casual arm touches. Matthieu bristled at how easily they bantered, how effortless it all looked.
Then Louis winked, and that was it. Matthieu needed to leave before his temper snapped. He hated how much that one simple gesture pissed him off. Louis was a sweet kid. Young, excitable, exactly how Kieran had been when they first met…
Nope, nope, nope.
Matthieu found Cynthia back in her office on his way out, stopping to thank her again for inviting him—not that he would’ve been there without the NHL’s elaborate ploy to smooth things over with Kieran. She smiled sweetly and encouraged him to come back to volunteer again. Matthieu wished more than anything that he had time. He promised he would anyway, hoping he hadn’t just made himself a liar.
