Page 6
“I mean, what are you trying to find? The cheat code?”
“No, I just... Aiden, we haven’t talked in years. You know? It’s like I can still see some of the boy I knew, but you’re not the same, and it’s just gotten so complicated.”
“I’m not complicated. The same as I’ve always been,” Aiden said, unable to quite keep the bitterness from his voice. “Except I’m not a goalie anymore.”
“Oh, no. That’s one thing that’s never going to change, even if you’re not playing in the show. You’re always going to be a goalie.”
Aiden exhaled, sharply, and said, in a rush, “Matt, I’ve fucking missed you. I’ve really fucking missed you.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, softly. “Well. That’s how it goes.”
Even though they hadn’t hooked up since New York, Aiden slept in Matt’s bed every night.
It would have been a lie to say it wasn’t torture every time he woke up with Matt’s furnace of a body draped over his back, Matt’s arm wrapped around him, Matt’s erection pressed against his ass. He didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace of whatever he had here, but it was also hard to ignore how his body responded, hard to ignore how his heart responded.
It was torture and yet he slept better than he’d slept in his own bed in longer than he could remember.
You could talk to him about it, the reasonable part of Aiden’s brain said.
Don’t fucking ruin it, said the part of Aiden’s brain that had gotten him to Montreal without clarifying this beforehand.
Aiden didn’t say anything.
cap, Jammer texted Matt in the morning, what’s up?
Matt frowned at his phone. What do you mean, what’s up?
u’ve been acting a lil cagey recently. just not like u. if it’s contract stuff or w/e u can talk to us u know
He could feel himself smiling, just a little, lopsided. If it was only the contract stuff, that would have been easy to handle. Not easy. Manageable. Something he could make lists for. Pros and cons. Something he could think through logically, even if thinking about it made him want to scream and take off running down the hall.
Matt couldn’t explain to Jammer that he had thrown caution to the wind, invited his ex to stay with him for the summer and had promptly realized two things: his ex was fucking depressed and also, that Matt was still as stupidly in love with him as he had ever been.
Neither realization happened all at once. They snuck up on him, gradually. Aiden had always been tightly wound, a perfectionist, compulsive in the way that goalies often were. But around Matt, he’d learned how to smile easily, flash a goofy sense of humor. Not to mention the wild shit that came out of his mouth in bed, the insanely filthy things he asked Matt to do to him. The complete opposite of the calm, serious face he presented to the media.
Matt couldn’t see any of that in him now. Aiden was quiet and withdrawn, watching Matt with sad eyes, barely saying anything. There was a bitterness to his words that hadn’t ever been there before. He ate mechanically, without any of the enjoyment Matt remembered. He’d told Matt that he’d mostly been eating the same thing every day for the last few years which was—Aiden had always been a creature of habit, but that seemed a lot .
When Matt caught him unaware, he would often just be sitting there, legs folded in some kind of ridiculous way underneath him, frowning into space like he was thinking about something. Was it retirement? Was it something else? Matt, who had always been good at getting reads on guys and had spent years of his life intimately attuned to the tiniest shifts in Aiden’s mood, found that for once, he just couldn’t figure it out.
Matt woke up every morning with Aiden wrapped up in his arms, partially underneath Matt’s body. Matt still knew Aiden’s tells well enough to know he was awake, that he could definitely feel Matt’s morning wood pressed up against his ass.
Every time, Aiden said nothing. He barely breathed. It was like he was afraid to move and ruin the moment, and Matt could absolutely sympathize.
Every morning he thought about rolling Aiden over and kissing the haunted look off of his face. Every morning he thought about what would happen if he did it, if he slipped his hand down between them to take Aiden in hand the way he used to do. By this point in the week it was a given that Aiden was coming to bed with him.
But something held Matt back. It seemed wrong, somehow, to try anything when Aiden looked like that, like Aiden might kiss him back not because he wanted Matt, still felt anything for Matt except the desire to feel any differently than he was feeling then.
Matt had thought about this a lot of ways over the years, how things would go if he had the chance to talk to Aiden again. Sometimes he imagined punching him in the face and telling him to fuck off. Sometimes he imagined holding out his arms, Aiden falling into them gratefully.
He’d never really thought about what he would do if Aiden turned up on his doorstep, bedraggled and shaggy and sad as fuck, and just stayed with him, clinging like a koala at night, moping around during the day.
Matt realized, horrified, that as much as it was physically painful to wake up every morning and have to hold himself back from the reactions that still felt automatic after all of these years, he was holding himself back because of Aiden. Because he wanted to do the right thing. Because he was still —
It’s not really anything I can explain, Matt said to Jammer. I’ll feel more like myself once camp starts.
ok.
I promise, Jams.
On Saturday night, Aiden picked the movies, and they watched a double-header of Venom and Let There Be Carnage on the couch. Aiden found himself trying to explain to Matt why Carnage was really the superior comic book villain, especially considering Venom was more of an anti-hero at this point. He could feel himself rambling, the way he sometimes did about things he’d been so interested in for so long, the way that had always embarrassed his sister when they were kids. But he couldn’t stop it now any more than he could have done then.
“You know, the bond with the symbiote is stronger, and it’s fused with Kasady’s blood, so the body doesn’t really need to rest the same way Brock does.”
Matt leaned forward, took Aiden’s face in his hands and shoved his tongue in Aiden’s mouth. Aiden’s muffled noise of surprise got lost in it; it took him a second to react beyond that exclamation. Then he was all in, breathless by the time they broke apart, his heart thumping in his chest like the bass of a particularly intense breakdown.
“Matt, what —?”
“You fucking nerd ,” Matt said, and kissed him again. Softer, this time. Fondly. “You and your goddamn comic books.”
And then they stopped talking at all. It was easy to give in when Matt kissed him like this, like he was the only thing Matt had ever wanted.
“I wasn’t sure we were—” Aiden gasped, a little later, seated on Matt’s hips, Matt’s fingers wrapped just this side of too loosely around his dick “—you know, doing this.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been holding myself back all week.”
“ Why? ”
“I didn’t want to push you when you were in a bad place.”
“Matt, I’ve been sleeping in your fucking bed for—”
“Well why didn’t you —”
“I didn’t know you wanted this, I didn’t want to assume things were still going to be like this, even after New York.”
“I just didn’t want to take advantage of anything, Aiden.”
“Advantage? I’m fucking up my life, that doesn’t mean I can’t... I want this, I want you .”
“Look,” Matt said, his hands twisted in Aiden’s shirt, pulling him down. Their eyes met, Matt’s searching, like he was looking for something in Aiden’s face but still couldn’t find it. “If we’re both here and we’re both on the same page, I want you every way I can have you.”
Aiden exhaled. It would be easy to hear it, easy to accept it. Easy to pretend there wasn’t ten years of bitterness behind it, that they could start over again or that they never really stopped in the first place. Like everything else he had done recently, it was a terrible idea. But for the first time since Matt showed up on his doorstep and left New York again, Aiden felt something beyond the dread of knowing he was going to have to live through the exact same day again when he woke up in the morning.
Couldn’t he let himself have this?
“You’ve always had me.”
Matt looked amused. And a little rueful. “Liar.”
Aiden wanted to say no, that was the one thing that wasn’t a lie , but instead he managed, “So do you want to fuck me on the living room floor, or...?”
There was probably a time they would have just kept it going right there, but they weren’t getting any younger and his knees and hip and back wouldn’t thank him for it in the morning. They went to the bedroom.
It was different than in New York. There they had been frantic and desperate, both certain every time was going to be the last time. Now, Aiden took the time to undress Matt, slowly, carefully, touching each part of him as he exposed it, enjoying the increasing impatience with which Matt submitted to his exploration. Took the time to admire Matt’s body naked: how solid he was, the trail of hair from his chest to his stomach, the twitches of muscle in Matt’s abs and thighs and arms betraying how much he was holding himself back. Aiden, still fully clothed, rocked against him; Matt’s breath hissed, like he couldn’t hold it back if he wanted to.
“Aiden...”
“Yeah?” Aiden asked, his mouth trailing the line right under Matt’s jaw.
“Are you going to let me touch you?”
“I thought I’d make you wait,” he started, but then he was on his back in the bed, unceremoniously lifted and dumped down again in a movement too fast to track.
“I don’t want to wait,” Matt said, grinning down at him.
“Then make me, coward.”
A little later, Aiden was naked, too, trying desperately to catch his breath. The struggle for his own clothes had been perfunctory, slid easily into something else by the time Matt slammed his wrists against the headboard. It felt right to be here, in Matt’s bed, trapped under the weight of Matt’s body, one of Matt’s slick fingers a little too roughly crooked inside of him.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck, Matt, I don’t want to do it like this—come on, I don’t want to wait, fuck me now , you have to—”
“Oh? I thought you were all about dragging this out.”
Aiden had thought so, too, thought he was going to make it last, torture both of them, but now that he was here, he could see how wrong he had been. Felt almost frantic with the intensity of what he wanted, how badly he wanted Matt, how badly he wanted to feel anything . “No—I need, I need you, I need this, I don’t want to think—”
He watched with that almost nauseous sense of anticipation while Matt fumbled with the condom and the lube, tried not to think of anyone else Matt might’ve fucked in the same bed, tried not to think of anything except Matt, except the way Aiden knew it was going to feel. It was easy when watching Matt do this was pornographic all on its own, when Matt looked up at him suddenly, stricken, and Aiden knew he was just as fucked up by the whole thing.
And then Matt was crouched over him, leaning down for one last, messy kiss before he pressed against Aiden’s body, slowly pushing forward.
Aiden exhaled one long gasp of breath. It felt different like this. Uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. Matt went slowly, centimeter by centimeter, but steadily and without pause, and it was the best kind of agony. Not pain, just an awareness of the way Matt was deliberately opening him. The way his body had to struggle to adjust. How full he was and how sensitive every part of him was and—
Aiden opened his eyes to look at Matt’s face. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, almost like he was in pain, or a concentration so intense he couldn’t bear it. Aiden couldn’t help himself; he reached up to push a stray piece of hair away from Matt’s eyes and Matt tilted his face into Aiden’s hand.
When Matt finally bottomed out, they paused, frozen like that. Matt stared down at him and Aiden was the one who had to look away.
“Matt, come on, come on —”
Matt didn’t say anything, but Aiden could hear his labored breathing, feel how much effort it took to hold himself back as he moved, sliding out and then in again. It was slow, still, slower than Aiden wanted, and he forced himself to wait, to let Matt set the pace. It was so fucking deliberate, patient , that he was practically shaking out of his own skin anyway. The occasional rough push had him gasping and whining. His fingers dug into the muscle of Matt’s shoulders, half for leverage, half to pull him closer. Matt’s head dipped down, his forehead bumping against Aiden’s.
“Fuck,” Aiden could hear himself saying, as if from a distance, “fuck, Matt, ten fucking, fucking years —I need—harder, please —”
When Matt started fucking him in earnest, finally, Aiden threw his legs around Matt’s waist and his head back against the pillow and gave himself permission to stop fucking thinking . He lost track of time, lost track of everything except the way it felt now that they finally had the rhythm of it, now that every thrust and every drag and every teasing swivel of Matt’s hips, every slow, dirty grind, drove him out of himself. It was what he wanted—needed. Even if it was going to destroy him, he would say thank you for it.
He was saying thank you , the words ragged and crazed, over and over again. “Thank you—thank you, thank you, thank you , thank—”
Matt groaned, “Aiden, Aidy ,” and stopped the thank yous with his mouth, his teeth digging at Aiden’s lip.
An interminable time later, Aiden came without Matt’s hands anywhere except his wrist and his throat, fingers pressed against the throbbing pulse at Aiden’s neck. And for a time, he was free—floating somewhere blissfully outside of his own skull.
For a time.
A little later Matt, on his back, his chest still heaving, said, “Jesus Christ , Aiden.”
Aiden exhaled. His hands were shaking. His mouth wasn’t cooperating with his brain. It was fine. They lay in silence for a time, sweat cooling, goose bumps rising in the air-conditioning.
It wasn’t fine.
Matt watched Aiden stumble out of the bed and into the bathroom and couldn’t bring himself to get up. If he thought too much about the absolute disaster of a situation he’d just created it made his head and chest ache. If he thought too much about how irresistible Aiden had been, talking about his stupid comic books so seriously and with such passion, it made his head and chest ache. If he thought too much about the glimpse of the boy Aiden had used to be, the hyperfixations that he’d seemingly set to the side in the fog of depression, it made his head and chest ache. If he thought about Aiden falling apart underneath him, begging first and then saying thank you , it made his head and chest ache.
Ten fucking years, Aiden had said, and Matt felt every single one of them. It was surreal how they had fallen right back into it like nothing had changed. How Aiden’s body still felt the same, how he still liked the same things, how fucked up he got just from Matt touching him, how easy he was for every single touch.
Not easy. Greedy.
Matt listened to the water running behind the closed door and thought about how intense it had been to be inside Aiden again, how hot and tight and eager he was. To hold his wrists down and feel Aiden’s pulse thudding against his fingers. To look down and see Aiden’s wide light brown eyes, dreamy and unfocused, his mouth hanging open, unselfconscious in a way he only ever was around Matt.
Ten fucking years. Ten fucking years .
Ten fucking years they’d been apart.
In that instant he knew that as much progress as he thought he’d made, as much as he’d assumed that he had moved on with his life and gotten it together—being with Aiden like that made it clear that he had never really moved from the starting line. He was right back there again, like a time loop, the wound as fresh and painful as it had been when he fell in love the first time.
But was it really such a bad thing, if he was?
Aiden was here now.
Aiden slept in his bed.
Aiden had fucked him again.
Aiden had moved all of his shit into Matt’s closet; he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Matt was a responsible guy. He put the team before himself. He put his duty before himself. When Emily left him, he’d still been the first one at the practice facility and the last one to leave, the one everyone had come to for advice and for anything they’d needed. The one playing twenty-five minutes a night without a complaint.
Did he have to be the responsible one forever? Couldn’t he make a stupid, impulsive decision again, even knowing how disastrously his last one had ended? If it was ten years or ten months or ten weeks or ten minutes they’d been apart. What did it matter? Why couldn’t he just let himself have this? Hockey and being the captain and Aiden, who for whatever weird twist of fate, happened to be here now ?
He was so tired, so fucked up, that he didn’t even realize when his eyes started drooping.
Aiden looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Same dark circles under his eyes, same lines at the corner of his mouth. His hair wet from the shower, hanging beyond the nape of his neck, almost brushed his shoulders.
I want you every way I can have you.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to get out of this. Now that the high had faded the reality of the situation set in. Here he was, in Montreal, almost thirty-seven, making the same mistakes he’d made in his twenties. Except back then, he still had his entire future ahead of him. Now he had—what?
Aiden turned the sink on, leaned down and stuck his face under the cold running water.
If this was the only way he could have Matt, he’d take it.
By the time he collected himself and went back into the bedroom, Matt had already fallen asleep, still on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. Aiden stopped and just stared at him for a second, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the line of his stomach, his arm slowly dropping to rest against the blanket, the way his dark eyelashes looked against his skin, the dumb half-smile tugging his mouth up.
He did his best to clean Matt up without waking him, thought, you fucking moron , and got back into bed.
When Matt woke up, Aiden was still asleep. It was like he hadn’t slept in so long that now that he’d made his way back to Matt’s bed again, he was making up for lost time. Matt looked down at him, the dark bruised eyelids and slack mouth, and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. It was insane how different he looked with long hair. Not worse, just so different.
Whenever Matt used to think about him, in the long years they’d been apart, he pictured Aiden the same way he’d looked when they’d first met: his pretty baby face and his perfect hair and his pouty mouth. It was difficult wrapping his head around the fact that he’d broken up with a boy and Aiden was a man, with a history of years Matt didn’t know, habits he hadn’t become familiar with and sad eyes he couldn’t change.
Well. Aiden hadn’t looked like that last night. Aiden had looked—
Okay.
Matt had to stop doing this, or he was never going to get up and go to practice. He showered, even though he’d have to do it again after the skate, because if he showed up in Brossard smelling like that the guys would never let him live it down. And he didn’t want to set a bad example for the rookies. But he was distracted, his brain turning over and over the way Aiden had sounded, gasping thank you , knowing that sex was a fucking stupid idea, unable to turn the car around before it went off the cliff.
Rookie camp wouldn’t start for a few weeks, but a lot of the kids who would be there had stayed in Montreal after dev camp, and were coming to the practice facility to skate with the major league regulars and get their reps in. When Matt was younger, he had done that too, and even participated in exhibition games and a summer three-on-three league for fun. Now that he was older and his knee was fucked up, he had to conserve his energy and ligaments, but he still liked to work with the kids.
He remembered when he had first gotten called up, how much it had meant to him when Gavin Weaver, the longtime captain of the Royal, had immediately introduced himself and invited Matt out for dinner. He made sure to fill that same role for the new kids, even if he was already aching a few games into the preseason.
Aiden was still sleeping when Matt came out of the bathroom. He dressed as quietly as possible. Passing by the bed on his way out, he paused, a stupid instinct gripping him. He leaned down and kissed Aiden’s temple. Barely a touch. But it was just—after the night before, it felt wrong to leave without anything , even if Aiden didn’t know he’d done it.
It felt good to get back on the ice, even though Jammer immediately saw the hickey Aiden had left on his collarbone, red and tender, and made a loud noise of amusement that really sounded more like a hoot.
“Damn, Cap!” he said, his usually expressionless eyes dancing with laughter. “Sowing your wild oats before the season starts, huh?”
The rookies stared at them, unsure of how to proceed. There was always the regular chirping you’d get in the locker room, but Matt was the captain . Matt had brought Cups home to Montreal. That was different, right?
Matt knew how he was supposed to respond—laughing or bragging or making a joke out of it—but he couldn’t. Sleeping with Aiden felt fragile and new and like something he desperately needed to protect. He couldn’t laugh about it. But not saying anything was making this more awkward and weird than a hookup had any right to be.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his Under Armour over his head, “your mom was pretty great last night.”
“Hey,” Jammer said, hurt. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought it was cute you’re finally getting out there after Emily.”
For a second, Matt had to bite down the urge to laugh hysterically—after Emily, like that had done anywhere near the kind of damage that Aiden had done to him, that Aiden continued to wreak. Maybe he’d tell Jammer one day, when the rookies weren’t staring at them like they weren’t sure if they should say something or jump in or pretend they hadn’t heard any of it at all. For now, he sighed. “ Cute? Really, Jams?”
“Hey,” Jammer said, wriggling into his pads—he was one of the few guys who didn’t play with any kind of underlayer at all. “I’m at ease with my masculinity. If you’re cute, I’m gonna tell you you’re cute.”
“Thanks,” Matt said, dryly. “Huge boost to my ego, bud.”
“Anytime,” Jammer said, reaching over to knuckle his fist against Matt’s head, before they both went back to dressing, Matt pulling his socks and pants on, and Jammer adjusting his straps. “That’s what you keep me around for.”
“That, and to quarterback the power play.”
Jammer waved his hand, unconcerned. “Priorities, Cap.”
Matt threw himself into the practice, making sure that Cormier and Crane were settled in, making sure that he wasn’t pushing his knee too hard. But the whole time, he was aware of his clothes and gear rubbing against the bite, of Aiden at home, waiting for him.
If he was a little off his game, who could really blame him?
Aiden had woken up when Matt was in the shower, but stayed with his eyes closed just because he didn’t trust himself to say anything. When Matt leaned down and pressed his lips against his head, Aiden’s chest lurched like he’d been in some kind of centrifuge. It was such a stupid, tender gesture, and Aiden didn’t deserve it .
When Matt left for the rink, Aiden spent about thirty minutes lying in their bed, until the warmth Matt’s body had left had definitely faded. The sheets were still rumpled, still smelled like sex, and every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghosts of Matt’s hands on him.
It was fucked up.
He was fucked up, mooning around over his ex like sleeping with him would make anything he’d done in the past any better. Like sleeping with him would change the fact that Aiden was turning thirty-seven soon and was basically freeloading in Matt’s condo because he had nothing better to do with his life.
The more he thought about it the more he could feel the old feelings rising up, like the room was suddenly too small, like the walls were closing in on him and crushing his lungs. He breathed through the sweaty, sick feeling until it passed, and then rolled over to grab his phone.
Aiden Googled therapist montreal , wrote down a few names and made some phone calls.
It was awkward and uncomfortable making the calls. Part of him didn’t even know how to explain his situation. He wasn’t depressed , he was just having a hard time with retirement, with the situation with Matt. It wasn’t something he needed medication for either, because...what would that even do? Medication wasn’t going to stop him from making stupid decisions about Matt. Medication wasn’t going to unretire him. He just had to get his head sorted out. That was all.
The therapist he ended up picking had immediate availability, more immediate than he’d expected. In fact, she’d said, I have some time today following a cancellation, and he’d had to make a last-minute leap of faith by saying yes . Dr. Gauthier turned out to be a stocky, muscular woman maybe ten years older than he was, with the kind of thousand-yard stare and brusque, no-nonsense manner that instantly put him at ease. Like she would be completely unimpressed with whatever embarrassing thing he had to tell her.
She had a heavy Quebecois accent and had a laconic way of speaking that reminded him of every goalie coach he’d ever had.
It was awkward and uncomfortable, too, going to that first appointment, but it was a start. He felt shaky and anxious when he said goodbye and headed back, on his own, to Matt’s condo. But it was a start.
“Any news on the contract front, Cap?” Adam Morin asked.
They were in the locker room after practice, stripping down. Even though they’d won a Cup together, Matt couldn’t honestly say the Morin twins were his favorite teammates. They were both a bit full of themselves and tended to have an unerring big-sibling instinct for poking their noses exactly where they shouldn’t. Matt hadn’t envied their younger sister, Beatrice, having to grow up in their shadow, though she had just won a Cup herself and was doing quite well, far away from their judgment.
“No,” Matt said, “and there probably won’t be for the rest of the season. I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring it up. The last thing I want is for my situation to be a distraction.”
“Always a team player,” Adam drawled.
“Leave him alone,” Fournier said, in French.
“I’m just asking,” Adam replied in the same language, wounded look on his face.
“Well, don’t ask. Tabarnak, not everything is your business.”
After so many years in Montreal, Matt could easily understand the conversation. Technically he could respond in kind, but he still felt uncomfortable speaking. No matter how often he practiced his French, he still had a pronounced Ontario accent in it. He said, in English, “Thanks, Fourns. I got it from here.”
He tested out his knee again: it was aching a bit, but not enough that he worried about it just yet. Still, it was kind of a relief to get out of the practice facility and head home, knowing Aiden would be waiting for him.
For a second, Matt had the brief, stupid idea of surprising him with something: nice beer or takeout or a dessert, but Aiden didn’t drink much, and he was almost religious about eating healthily. Maybe Matt could...buy him a new yoga mat. Something, anything, that would show Aiden how much Matt wanted to fit him back into his life, make him comfortable in the condo.
In the end, all he had to give was himself, but judging from the way Aiden’s mouth gave underneath the eager kiss, that was enough.
“Hi,” Aiden said, a little breathlessly. He had pulled back a little so he could talk, but he was still close enough that all Matt could see were his eyes, huge and intent. Eyes you could drown in. “What was that for?”
“It’s just—nice to come home to someone,” Matt mumbled against the corner of his mouth. “It’s nice to come home to you .”
“You’re going to get tired of me eventually.” Aiden swatted at Matt’s hands before he apparently changed his mind, grabbed Matt’s ass and pulled him into a closer embrace.
“I’m pretty sure that could never happen,” Matt said, and winced inwardly. Too honest too early. “What’ve you been up to today?”
Aiden went still in his arms and Matt wondered, yet again, if he’d said the wrong thing. Then he swallowed and took a deep breath, like he was gearing up to say something difficult. “I, uh...made an appointment with a therapist.”
“Yeah? That’s great, Aiden.”
“Yeah. Um. I had the intake appointment today. I don’t know how it’s going to go, but it felt bad just sitting around doing nothing, so at least I’m...taking steps. Right?”
“It’s awesome. I’m really proud of you.”
“Let’s wait and see how it goes before you go that far,” Aiden said, and Matt couldn’t help laughing. “Anyway, are you hungry? I made lunch.”
Matt leaned up on the tips of his toes so he could press his mouth briefly against Aiden’s forehead. This whole thing was stupid—it was too much like the way he’d have greeted a boyfriend, and Aiden was—he didn’t know what Aiden was. But it was worth it, watching the flush slowly color Aiden’s cheeks darker. “Could get used to this, eh?”
“Stop,” Aiden said, embarrassed, and finally pulled himself free. “Come on. Let me show you what I’ve done.”
It was difficult to let him go, but somehow Matt managed.
They spent a lot of their spare time exploring Montreal. It wasn’t as big a city as New York, but there was still a lot to see. In a way it felt like making up for lost time. Although Aiden had spent some time during the summers with Matt there, they hadn’t gone out much. Both of them had been too paranoid about the Montreal media fishbowl sniffing out a story. He still felt a little paranoid, but no one seemed to have paid him any attention so far and it wasn’t like he had a career to worry about anymore.
“Come on,” Matt said, one afternoon. “You loved that mountain near New York, right? Come see Mont-Royal with me.”
And Aiden agreed.
It wasn’t quite the same kind of place as Storm King; there were no dirt hiking trails or rocky creeks. It was a hill. But there was an abundance of green trees, and there were paths through them. It was only about a twenty-minute walk from home to the Park Avenue entrance. They mostly walked in silence, up the trails through the green-canopied trees to the summit. It was a beautiful day, and the trails were crowded with pedestrians and tourists and families, and Aiden was pretty sure that more than a few people had recognized Matt.
No one bothered them, which was nice.
They made their way up to the summit, mostly in silence, and Aiden looked up at the huge LED cross, lights out, then out over the city spread below them, the way it stretched out into the distance across the river. Matt stood next to him as they observed in silence, watching below them as more people climbed toward the summit.
“Let’s go to the lake,” Matt said. “There’s skating on the rink in the winter, but—”
“Yeah, even if it wasn’t the middle of August I, ah, haven’t skated since the last game. You know.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that now.”
Aiden watched a kid below them, throwing a ball off the edge of the summit and crying when it vanished into the distance.
“It won’t be too long before winter,” he said, but what he meant was: it won’t be too long until the season starts. He didn’t want to think too long about that, what he would do when Matt was playing, what Aiden would do when he would normally be back on the ice.
From the time he started playing hockey, there was never a September he didn’t lace up his skates. You can still skate, he argued with himself, but he responded, It won’t be the same.
Matt’s hand on his arm, shaking him out of it. “Come on,” he said, and Aiden sighed and followed him.
It was a clover-shaped artificial lake, but that didn’t mean there weren’t hundreds of people sitting around it on picnic blankets or sprawled in the grass, piled onto boats, running and kicking soccer balls, flying kites. Aiden and Matt found a spot that didn’t seem as crowded and sat. Matt leaned back and lay down on the hill, his hands resting under his head as he looked up at the sky.
At first, they didn’t really talk, just people-watched. Aiden ran a hand through the soft grass, absentmindedly pulling at individual strands until he had a small pile. Frowning, he brushed his fingers off on his shorts and looked out at the water again.
“It’s weird,” Matt said, finally, “doing this again with you. Being here with you.” He was still looking anywhere but Aiden, his eyes focused on the fluffy clouds drifting over them. “Kind of doing my head in, a little. You know?”
Aiden blew a breath out of his nose. “Yeah... I don’t really know what I’m doing, either.”
“I just never thought we’d ever have the chance again. I thought about you a lot, over the years. Not all of the time, but sometimes it would hit me, and I’d wonder how you were doing. What you were doing. If you were happy. Whether you were dating.”
Aiden’s shoulders hunched forward. He didn’t look sideways. Didn’t want to see what Matt’s face looked like right now. Matt was usually the only person he never minded looking at directly, but he couldn’t do it. “I thought about you, too. But it was my fault, so. I didn’t feel like I had the right. You never...you never said you still...”
“I couldn’t . I was married, and even before Emily, it wouldn’t have been a good thing for me.”
There was a long, quiet pause. Aiden turned the words over and over again in his head. “What do you mean?”
Matt made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh, although it had the outline of one. “There’s a lot you don’t know about my life. We have a lot of catching up to do, you know?”
“What did you mean, though, that it wouldn’t have been a good thing for you?”
Matt’s face, so familiar and so different at the same time, was carefully expressionless. He was still looking up at the sky, squinting as the sun shifted. “Had a bad couple of years after things...you know. I did the player assistance program the summer after.”