Page 65 of The Official Problem
Adorky smile stretched across Kieran’s face as he got dressed for practice, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He was happy—not the usual mild contentment he carried most of the time, but an overwhelming sense of joy. His bones practically vibrated with it.
Last night had been… well, a lot: emotional, heartbreaking, potentially fucking life-changing. Matthieu had said helovedhim. After all this time, after all these years, he hadn’t forgotten what Kieran once meant to him. That thought alone made Kieran want to tell Coach to fuck practice, fuck hockey, and race back to Matthieu’s place to dive straight into bed with him. Only the fact that Matthieu wouldn’t be there kept Kieran rooted in the locker room.
He didn’t know what to do with last night’s revelations. For the first time in ten long years, he finally had a chance, a real shot at having Matthieu back in his life permanently. He couldn’t let himself feel safe in that—not for one second. There were far too many ways he could still fuck this up. He needed to put his head down, skate hard, and be ready to lay all his cards on the table tonight, when Matthieu was back in his arms.
“What’s got you grinning this morning?” Nix asked from the cubby beside him. Kieran jumped, startled. A knowing grin spread across the goalie’s face.
“Nothing,” Kieran grunted, attempting to school his features but failing miserably.
“Sure looks like nothing,” Nix said with a laugh.
“Probably got laid,” Ivan deadpanned. Kieran hadn’t even noticed him arrive. “He gets dopey grin after a good dicking.”
Bergstrom let out a loud cackle. “You’d know, I suppose.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the ice?” Ivan scolded. He’d clearly spent the years since they last played together perfecting his captain-means-business voice. “Little shit.” He whipped his towel at Bergstrom playfully.
“You made it too easy. I’m going, I’m going.” Bergstrom backed away with his hands up in mock surrender.
“If he didn’t say it, I was going to,” Kieran added with a smirk.
“Oh shit, was that another smile?” Ivan jabbed him on the cheek. “Nixy, mark calendar. This day is one for history.”
“I smile all the time, fuck you very much.” Kieran pushed Ivan’s hand away with a laugh and turned to finish putting on his pads.
Honestly, the chirping only lifted his mood. It was going to be a good practice—he could feel it. The locker room thrummed with the same energy racing through him. It was only early-December, with four long months of the regular season still ahead. After a shaky start, the team was finally coming together. They’d racked up some big wins on their last roadie, and the guys were energized to carry that momentum into their next few at home.
Kieran was finally clicking with the team. Volcov and Novak, his linemates, were already a powerhouse. With his speed added in, the three of them were unstoppable, especially now thattheir passes connected effortlessly. No one was foolish enough to speculate about a playoff spot this far out—at least not out loud. Nothing jinxed a season faster than someone declaring it ‘the team’s year’.The unspoken policy was: when things were good, you kept your head down and stayed focused. No acknowledging the win streak. No discussing league standings. Absolutely no counting chickens before they hatched.
Kieran followed Andre and Ivan out to the ice, where Coach was already skating the rookies hard. There was a strong batch this year, with a few more solid players staying sharp down in Utica. The older guys, Kieran, unfortunately, included in that designation, were equally solid. The usual cloud of mid-season injuries had so far stayed at bay. Inevitably, it would strike, but the team was ready.
The next few hours flew by in a whirl. Kieran skated hard and fast, pushing himself further with every drill. By the time Coach blew the final whistle, Kieran’s body ached, but for the first time all season, it felt good.
While cooling down side by side on the bikes, Ivan convinced Kieran to join him and Jasper for a late lunch. With nothing better to do while waiting for Matthieu’s call, he agreed. He sat mostly in silence. Things felt less tense than the last time he’d hung out with them, yet the underlying sense that something was off lingered. Ivan seemed happy enough, smiling at Jasper as he rambled about an article he was working on. Jasper didn’t seem fazed that he was carrying the entire conversation. Ivan had never been a chatty guy, and Kieran’s mind wandered far away.
He tried not to check how much time was left in the New York-Washington game; it wasn’t like his phone would ring the second it ended, and Matthieu had more important things to deal with. Kieran just had to wait.
The call finally came a little after nine. Kieran answered on the first ring, then kicked himself. It couldn’t have been more obvious he’d been clutching the phone for two hours, waiting.
“Everything alright?” he asked when nothing but silence came down the line.
“Just a long day,” Matthieu muttered.
“If you need to sleep instead of meeting up, I understand.” Kieran desperately hoped Matthieu wouldn’t take him up on the offer. The pause stretched longer than he liked.
“No, I want to see you. I’m just warning you—I might not be the best company tonight.”
“I don’t need you to be good company. I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.” The truth sounded too honest, but after last night, Kieran wasn’t holding anything back. “Did you want me to come to you?”
“I just pulled up outside.”
A knock at Kieran’s door confirmed it a few seconds later. He tried not to answer with the same haste as he had the phone, but failed again. Matthieu looked much like he had the last time he showed up—less rumpled. Not as much despair clouded his handsome face.
Had that only been two nights ago? It felt like years had passed since then.
“You can hang up now,” Matthieu teased.
Kieran’s phone was still pressed to his ear, the line gone dead before he’d even opened the door. He slipped it into his pocket and beckoned Matthieu inside.
