Page 95 of The Official Problem
He drew in a slow breath. His throat felt raw. “You’re the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, Matthieu.”
He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t lose hope. If he had to get on that stage and tell the whole damn world how much he loved Matthieu Bouchard, he would.
“I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never stop fighting for you.” It was the only thing he had left to give. “You’re allowed to be furious with me. I deserve it. I need you to know I’ll do anything to fix this. Anything, if you’ll give me a chance.”
He knew he might never see Matthieu again. At least this time, Matthieu would know what he meant to Kieran before he walked away. He would know that Kieran loved and wanted him. That Kieran needed him. That Kieran would never, ever forget him.
“All of this means nothing, hockey means nothing, without you.”
Then he followed Cole out of the room, the world shifting out from under his feet.
THIRTY-FOUR
KIERAN
Cole’s rental car sat in front of the townhouse, a black Mercedes with windows far too tinted to be legal. Still, Kieran was grateful for them. There wasn’t a swarm of reporters yet, but it was only a matter of time. The arena would be a different story.
With numb fingers, he reached for the door handle. His palms were damp, his pulse thudding in his throat. He slid into the passenger seat and fumbled with the seatbelt. It took three tries before the latch clicked into place. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the reporters had said those damning words.
He’d been such an idiot.
How had he not seen this coming? He was so focused on the risk of Matthieu being angry and on protecting their fragile reconciliation that he’d ignored everything else. Now it wasn’t just their love on the line. It was Matthieu’s job. Kieran’s. Everything.
The driver’s door slammed, jolting Kieran in his seat. Cole got in without a word, started the engine, and jammed the gearshift into reverse with more force than necessary. The car jerked from the curb.
“I…” Kieran began, as if another apology might be enough. Cole raised his hand and cut him off, eyes locked on the road as he flipped the turn signal.
When he finally spoke, the words were flat and cold, stripped of their usual teasing warmth. “I don’t want to hear it, Kieran. We’ve got a ten-minute drive to the arena, and I need you to spend every second of it listening for once in your goddamn life. By the time we get there, I want this story committed to memory. Engrained so deeply that you can recite it in your sleep. Got it?”
Kieran slouched lower in his seat. “Yes,” he muttered, head hanging, forehead nearly to his knees. With his throat burning, he pressed the heel of his hand to one eye, willing the tears not to fall.
“You and Matthieu are old friends from your time at Michigan State. You lost touch for several years and reconnected after your trade to New Jersey.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, that’s easy enough to remember. It’s the truth.”
“Kieran,” Cole snapped. “Do not mistake this for a two-sided conversation.”
Cole’s grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles whitening.
“Matthieu’s been struggling financially the last few years, worsened recently by the loss of his mother. Knowing your wealth,heapproachedyoua month ago and asked for a loan. Being the tender-hearted idiot you are, you agreed, had a repayment plan drawn up, and wired him the money to pay off the debt. That part is very important.He approached you.He asked for the money. You agreed to a loan.”
“Wait,” Kieran started, voice catching.
“This isn’t open to negotiation.” Cole growled. “If you want any hope of playing next season, you stick to the story. Matthieu asked for a loan.Your position as a player, his as an official; noneof it ever came up. You never talked about it. It wasn’t a gift. It was a loan with interest.”
Kieran swallowed hard. His tongue felt dry. “So you want me to lie?”
“I want you to save yourself and your career.”
“I can’t tell them the truth?” Kieran finally looked at Cole. “Doesn’t the fact that he’s my partner help? Doesn’t it explain everything?”
“We both know it’ll only make things worse,” Cole said, eyes still on the road. He hadn’t looked at Kieran once the entire drive. “The league, the media, your teammates—no one can find out you’re involved romantically. Honestly, after this is over, you need to distance yourself from him completely. No more sneaking around behind closed doors. Getting caught before would’ve been bad enough. Now it’s career suicide.”
Kieran’s stomach twisted. Deep down, he knew Cole was right. But giving Matthieu up like that, as if he meant nothing, as if he wasn’t the center of his whole world, was unimaginable. Matthieu wasn’t a fling he could just wash his hands of. He wasn’t fucking disposable.
“I can’t do that. I love him, Cole. I… I won’t.” Kieran’s breath came short and shallow, anger rising to meet the grief. “You want me to throw Matthieu to the wolves? Spin this story so it’s all his idea? Deny everything we have, and then walk away like none of it ever mattered?”
“It’s not what I want, Kieran. It’s what needs to be done.”
