Page 96 of The Official Problem
Kieran turned to the window, fists clenched in his lap. Trees blurred past. Cars. Noise. He couldn’t breathe.
“Well, I won’t do it,” he ground out. “You have to come up with something else. There has to be a way to fix this without destroying him.”
“Maybe there would’ve been,” Cole snapped, finally glancing at him. “If you’d given me even the slightest heads-up. Ifyou’d called before making this boneheaded decision. We’ve got two minutes before the GM and the league put you under a microscope. This is what we’ve got. So help me God, Kieran, you will stick to the story.”
Kieran flinched at the fury in Cole’s voice. He’d heard Cole angry before—at refs, at management, at bad luck—but never like this. Never at him. Not truly. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to beg, but then Cole turned into Keystone Arena’s parking lot, and every word died in his throat.
It was packed. Not just reporters. Fans, too. They crowded the entrance, waving signs, pressing against barricades. News vans lined the street. Security trying to hold the line.
“I can’t walk past all those people,” Kieran whispered, body rigid.
“I’ll try the service entrance,” Cole said. “To be honest, you may not have a choice. You might want to work on looking a little more regretful.”
They swerved around the building and miraculously found the loading dock unblocked. Cole pulled into the bay, slammed the car into park, and twisted in his seat, his eyes burning into Kieran.
“I need you to tell me you won’t do anything stupid.”
He couldn’t promise that.
“You need to trust me,” Cole said, softer now but no less intense. “I can’t fix this if you go rogue. I know it hurts. I know you think you’ll lose him. Kieran…” Cole paused, leveling a look that told Kieran he didn’t want to hear what came next. “I think you already have.”
That blow landed like a puck to the ribs. He sucked in a breath, but it didn’t go anywhere.
“Don’t lose hockey, too.”
Kieran nodded once, his throat thick with emotion he couldn’t speak past. His whole body felt like it might splinter. He opened the door and braced to walk into the fire.
Just yesterday, they’d welcomed him like a king in this locker room. He’d walked in to twenty-three men chanting his name, pulling him into hugs, slapping his back, and saying they knew he could do it. They should have had faith he’d lead them to victory, that signing Kieran to their front lines had been the Inferno’s best decision all season.
Now, he was met with icy silence, twenty-two men doing everything they could to avoid his eye. No one made a sound; the absence of warmth was loud in the memory of the night before. Only one man stood to meet him. Only one dared to look him in the eye as he stepped over the threshold. Yet there was no kindness in that green stare, none of the fondness that usually lived there. He towered over Kieran, making him feel small in a way he hadn’t in years.
“Ivan,” Kieran said, stepping up in front of him.
Ivan didn’t answer, not right away. He stood there, arms folded, looking at Kieran like he was trying to see straight through him. Kieran waited him out, forcing himself not to look away.
Finally, Ivan spoke, his voice low and heavy. “You didn’t think we could win?”
“It’s not what the media's making it out to be,” Kieran said, louder than he meant to. His words cracked under the weight of every eye now on him. “You know me. You know I’d never disrespect the game like that.”
“So these rumors, they are a lie?” Ivan’s asked, almost weary. “You didn’t pay three hundred grand of referee debt? To same guy who made the call for your game-winning goal?”
Kieran’s stomach twisted. His lips parted, truth rushing to his tongue, then he heard it—a cough behind him. A warning. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Cole.
Kieran swallowed hard. “The… the money was real, yeah. But it’s not what it looks like.”
Cole stepped closer, his presence a heat at Kieran’s back.
“It wasn’t a bribe,” Kieran said carefully. “It’s… it’s more complicated than that.”
Ivan’s brows drew tight. “Then why?” he asked. “Why do something so reckless? You don’t see? You put whole franchise at risk. Every guy in this room now questioned, because of one choice we did not make with you.”
Kieran had never heard him sound so disappointed.
“I didn’t think—” Kieran stopped, jaw trembling. “I was trying to help a friend. Someone I used to know. He came to me for help, and I gave him a loan.” He caught the word before he could say gift. “That’s all.”
Ivan shook his head slowly, as if he wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “You didn’t think,” Ivan repeated. “Because you don’t think, it look bad for all of us. Doesn’t matter if loan, or favor, or you made goddamn GoFundMe—you gave money to referee. Then this ref made call that won us biggest game of season.”
He took a step forward.
