Page 58 of The Official Problem
“You don’t get to do this,” Matthieu spat. “You don’t get to show up now and say you’ve always loved me, when you had me once and threw me away like I was nothing.”
Kieran’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“I overheard you that day, Kieran,” Matthieu said, shaking with fury. “I heard what you said in that locker room. Don’t pretend you didn’t crush my heart in front of the whole team, like I was fucking disposable.”
“I…I have no idea what you mean. You were the one who left me.”
Matthieu laughed again, hollow and empty. “I left to take care of my sister,” he said. “That morning, Child Protective Services called. They were going to put her in foster care because our mother couldn’t handle it anymore. I didn’t have a choice, Kieran.”
The ground tilted beneath Kieran’s feet.
He stared at Matthieu, realizing he had gotten it all wrong. All these years, he had thought Matthieu had run because he was angry, because he felt betrayed when Kieran came out. But that hadn’t been it at all.
“You didn’t answer any of my calls,” Kieran said helplessly.
Matthieu shook his head slowly; his eyes glittered with pain. “Why would I, Kieran? I walked into that locker room to tell you I was leaving, that I needed you, and you were standing there, telling the team how you fucked Ivan Petrov.”
It was like the air had been punched from Kieran’s lungs. “Matty…what?” he whispered.
Then it hit Kieran, all at once, the memory slamming in like a truck from all sides. He was twenty-one again, standing in the University of Michigan locker room, his teammates’ eyes locked on him.
He had walked in moments earlier to find them gossiping about the morning’s news. The NHL had its first openly gay hockey player, Ivan Petrov. Kieran had stood there, listening to the teammates he’d trusted hurl slurs and disgusting comments: that Petrov had no right to play, that he’d betrayed his teammates.
“I don’t know how his team can stand sharing a locker room with him,”one of them said.
“Could you imagine finding out someone you change in front of and shower with is a fucking cocksucker?”That line came from someone Kieran had once called a close friend. “Kieran, did you know?”
Yes, he’d known.
“And you still signed with LA, knowing they had a fag on the team?”
That was when he snapped.
He stood on the bench and told them he was gay, too. If they wanted him to keep leading them to the Frozen Four, they’d better shut their fucking mouths. He’d thought it would be a bold, triumphant moment. That they would take back every vile word they’d said about Petrov. How could they still feel that way when their star player was queer—a man they knew and respected?
Kieran had miscalculated.
The apologies he expected never came—no backtracks, no realization of what they’d just said about him. A fist connected with his jaw, slamming him into the lockers. Ruxley got in his face, demanding to know if he was sleeping with someone on the team, because, of course, that was his greatest concern. Who else? Who else was hiding in plain sight with their queerness?
Kieran looked up and saw Matthieu standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. Panic and fear laced his face; he looked ready to bolt at any second. His tear-filled eyes said it all. He was afraid. He wasn’t ready to come out. Kieran had to protect him—his teammates could not know what they meant to one another.
“Who are you fucking?”Ruxley yelled, shoving Kieran into the locker again before letting him go with another shove.
Kieran straightened, squaring off with Ruxley as every one of his teammates watched. He gave a practiced, cocky smile. “How do you think I’ve known Petrov was gay all this time?”
When he looked back at the doorway, Matthieu was gone.
The past dissolved, yet the ache it left behind stayed lodged deep in Kieran’s chest. “I didn’t sleep with Ivan,” he muttered, meeting Matthieu’s eyes. “Not back then. Later, after I finally admitted you were never coming back. But…”
“I don’t understand.” Matthieu cut him off.
“I said that to protect you. I saw your face while Ruxley was yelling; you looked so terrified. I couldn’t stand it. I would’ve said anything to keep them from finding out about you, too.”
Matthieu froze, his entire body stiffening as the words sank in. He stood there, wide-eyed and unblinking, as if he hadn’t fully processed what Kieran had said. Then something inside him broke.
His mouth parted on a breath that didn’t come. He staggered back a step, reaching blindly for the wall like he neededsomething solid to hold onto. His hand trembled where it braced against the plaster. When he finally moved, it was only to drag his palm over his face, as if he could wipe away the hurt before it swallowed him whole.
Kieran couldn’t take it much longer. “Say something,” he croaked. “Matty, please.”
