Page 80 of The Official Problem
“He didn’t call me.”
“He wouldn’t have wanted to burden you with this,” Alexei said matter-of-factly and hung up.
Kieran stared at the phone.
Burden.God, Matthieu was never a burden, though Kieran had clearly never convinced him of that. Kieran pressed a hand to his chest. His heart thundered in his throat. All he could think about was Matthieu, home alone, trying to navigate this—without him, without Julie. And Kieran was stuck here, nine hundred miles away, useless, powerless to help the person who needed him the most.
He checked the time—minutes before warm-up. There was no fucking way he could stay, not with Matthieu hurting like this. He had to find a way: beg if he had to, fake an injury, heck, get a real one. Anything. Whatever it took to be on a flight to Newark and have Matthieu in his arms by midnight.
He threw his scattered things into his suitcase, not caring what he left behind, yanked on his suit, and bolted for the lobby where the team was already gathering, bag dragging behind him.
Ivan spotted him first. His brow furrowed with concern as he took in Kieran, disheveled and fully packed. “Everything okay?”
Kieran knew his panic was written all over his face. “Have you seen Coach?”
“Uh… yeah. By bus. What’s going on?”
Kieran didn’t answer. He was already moving, knowing Ivan wouldn’t be far behind. Whether as captain or friend, it didn’t matter.
He found Coach right where Ivan said, deep in conversation with one of the athletic trainers, Anthony, probably finalizing tonight’s game plan. A game Kieran absolutely couldn’t play in.
“I need to be a healthy scratch tonight,” Kieran said, breathless, cutting in without preamble.
Coach looked up sharply. As NHL coaches went, he was relatively down-to-earth. It was still unprofessional, maybe even disrespectful, to show up out of nowhere and start making demands. Kieran didn’t care.
“What?” Coach barked as Ivan came to a stop beside Kieran.
“Family emergency,” he lied. But if he and Matthieu hadn’t wasted the last ten years, they would have been family. He was sure of it. “I need to fly home.”
“Your parents alright?” Ivan asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
For the first time since answering Alexei’s cold, monotone call, Kieran realized he was shaking.
He gave a slight nod. “It’s a close family friend. His mother died, and his sister is at school in Paris. He has no one else. It has to be me. I can’t…”
Coach raised his hand, clearly done with the conversation. Kieran braced for the no and the inevitable fight that would follow. He wasn’t sure what happened when a player refused to play. Hell, he’d played games with guys who missed the births of their children because hockey always came first.
“Luckily,” Coach said, cutting Kieran off before he could shove his foot further in his mouth. “Anthony and I were just debating who to put as a healthy scratch tonight.”
Kieran tried not to let the flicker of hope in his chest take root yet.
“Your name wasn’t even on the list, but if you promise to report for morning skate in Miami, I’ll allow it. Understood?”
“Yes, Coach.” Miami was two days away. It wasn’t enough time, yet it was the best he was going to get.
“Get to the airport quickly, and make sure the media doesn’t catch wind that you’re leaving town. Nashville doesn’t need to know until the last possible second.”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Then you’d better get moving. Ivan, can I trust you to get the bus loaded?”
Ivan nodded and stepped back toward the hotel entrance, still gripping Kieran’s shoulder as he tugged him along.
“This the guy you’ve been seeing?” Ivan grumbled. Kieran wasn’t interested in a lecture about his priorities.
Matthieu was important, damnit. This was important. “I’ll see you in Miami. We can talk more then, right now, I need to catch a flight.”
“He must be special.” The scolding was gone from Ivan’s tone, replaced by quiet understanding in his eyes. “Safe travels, Kieran. See you in few days.”
