Page 17 of The Official Problem
Kieran started to turn back toward the coffee cart, but Matthieu grabbed his arm. His fingertips tingled at the contact,like they had at the event a few days ago. Matthieu really hoped this wouldn’t be the physical reaction he had every time he saw Kieran. Otherwise, it was sure to be a long season.
“Don’t worry about it. There’s a line. This is fine.”
Kieran nodded. His cheeks flushed the slightest shade of pink. “Are you heading in to skate?”
Matthieu tried to think of a lie—literally any reason he might be standing outside the facility with skates hooked over his shoulder—but it was no use.
“Yeah, I’ll be out of the way before practice starts, though.”
“Cool. I was going to hit the ice early myself, work on my speed.”
Matthieu scoffed. “You’re plenty quick enough.”
Kieran was known for being one of the fastest players on the ice. He flew over its surface with the speed and grace of someone who didn’t believe in things like wind resistance. Matthieu had always been in awe watching him play.
And boy, had Matthieu spent a lot of time in recent years watching Kieran play.
Clips of him racing up and down the ice were always on ESPN, and even if they weren’t, Matthieu couldn’t pretend he hadn’t gone out of his way to watch highlights. Spent hours staring at a screen, wondering who that boy he’d loved had become. Wondering if Matthieu ever crossed Kieran’s mind.
Now he was standing before him, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. Every one of them started with why.
“I should get going,” Matthieu finally managed to say.
He felt like his throat was closing in on itself. If he didn’t get away from Kieran soon, he might do something incredibly foolish like cry. Being around him again shouldn’t hurt this badly. He didn’t wait for Kieran’s response. He turned and fled like the coward he was.
SEVEN
KIERAN
October 2023 - Newark
Even after all these years, training camp and preseason still wore Kieran down more than he expected. His whole body ached so badly he wanted to collapse on the floor of his empty townhouse and never move again.
He’d stuck to his off-season program all summer—weeks with a specialized trainer, a new nutrition plan, a mountain of conditioning. All of it designed to give his body the best chance of surviving another grueling five years. Funny, considering that after all those tips, tricks, and hours of complicated stretching, Kieran felt like he couldn’t play another minute, let alone five more seasons.
He was getting old. That much was obvious. At thirty-one, his body was finally pushing back against the years of abuse he’d put it through. Honestly, it was a miracle it had taken this long.
A familiar chuckle brought Kieran out of his mortality-induced spiral. He looked up from the bench where he was hunched, trying to summon the energy to peel off his pads. Ivan had dropped down onto the one across from him.
“Feeling it today, huh?” he asked, stripping off his pads and jersey in one smooth motion that made Kieran ache harder just watching.
Ivan had a few years on him, but he barely showed it—just a bit of silver in his dark beard and laugh lines around his eyes. He still moved around the ice like a freight train: never tiring, always steady, always commanding. Trusted by every player, coach, and staff member. He was exactly what a captain should be. Infallible.
Kieran couldn’t help but smile at his old friend. “I’ll be alright in a minute. Coming to terms with the harsh reality that I’m not twenty-one anymore.”
Ivan scoffed. “You haven’t been twenty-one for long time.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Ivan grinned back at him as the rest of the team filed in from the ice. Practice had just ended, but Kieran had been pulled early to shoot some promotional material. He was sure the footage would be unusable. No Inferno fan wanted to watch their supposed star player panting through awkward lines and looking five seconds away from passing out. He hadn’t exactly radiated elite-athlete energy.
“Uh oh, did we interrupt something?” The voice came from Daniel Bergstrom, a loudmouth rookie fresh up from the AHL. He reminded Kieran a little too much of his younger self. “Were you two having a moment?”
Kieran stiffened, glancing around the room to gauge his teammates’ reactions, but most seemed to miss the chirp entirely.
Bergstrom flopped onto the bench next to Ivan, tossing his feet up, smirk on full display. “Need us to give you two some privacy?”
Kieran’s stomach dropped. His so-called relationship with Ivan had been one of the NHL’s worst-kept secrets. By now,everyone knew they’d slept together when they played for LA. He’d caught a fair amount of shit for it over the years.
