Chapter 3 Matthieu
THREE
MATTHIEU
Matthieu hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder and stepped into Montreal’s practice facility. His flight from Newark had been delayed by a late summer storm, cutting into the little time he had between landing and reporting to development camp.
Most of the other officials had arrived the day before. Matthieu, already anxious about leaving home for a full week, had booked the latest possible flight. Now he was lugging everything he’d brought with him into the dressing room, trying to cram it all into the last available locker.
He hated being late. Nothing felt more disrespectful than not showing up on time. But there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
He changed quickly, forcing a few deep breaths before heading out for a warm-up skate.
Luckily, by the time he made it out, Scott, who had recently been re-elected as director of officiating, seemed to have just arrived as well.
He was too busy shuffling papers to notice Matthieu sneaking in the back.
Alexei, on the other hand, noticed. His face lit up when he saw Matthieu approach. “I thought they’d canned you after all,” he joked, though it wasn’t particularly funny.
The end of last season had been brutal. Every time Matthieu thought the investigation into his on-ice scuffle with Lloyd was over, another NHL executive or hungry reporter came at him with more questions.
As expected, he wasn’t selected to officiate the playoffs, which, while disappointing, wasn’t a surprise. It was almost unheard of for a first-year official to get that kind of opportunity, especially with a fresh scandal on their record.
In the end, he got a warning, extra training hours, and a long lecture about on-ice professionalism. It could’ve been worse.
“Nah, you’re stuck with me for at least another season,” Matthieu replied.
Alexei feigned disappointment, but his grin was wide. “I’m glad, man. Let’s keep those fists of fury in check this year, just to be safe?”
“I think I can keep it together. We both know I can’t fuck up again.”
Scott had made it clear a repeat offense wouldn’t end as kindly. Matthieu was smart enough to heed the warning. He’d worked too hard to get here and had too much riding on that steady paycheck to risk losing it all.
“Besides, it’s unlikely we’ll see much of each other anyway. I only had two Seattle games last season. Wouldn’t surprise me if they tweaked my schedule so I don’t officiate them at all.”
“That’s if he doesn’t get traded,” Alexei said flatly. “His contract with Seattle ended last year.”
Matthieu’s stomach churned at the thought of Kieran getting traded to an Eastern team. He silenced it with logic. “He gave Seattle five solid years and took them to the conference finals twice. There’s no way they didn’t renew his contract. Right?” They’d be crazy not to.
“I haven’t heard either way,” Alexei said with a shrug. “You’d think they’d have announced something by now if he were staying in Seattle. It’s September, for God’s sake. Training camps start next week.”
Matthieu shrugged, done with the conversation. Luckily, Alexei picked up on it and changed the subject. “How’s my future wife? Still studying hard?”
Matthieu shot him a dry look. Alexei loved teasing him about the supposed “destiny” between him and Matthieu’s younger sister.
Julie had harbored a crush on Alexei for as long as Matthieu could remember, and Alexei, shameless flirt that he was, had done nothing to discourage it.
However, and it would break Julie’s heart to know this, Alexei liked his partners male, usually in multiples.
Matthieu had long since stopped worrying about him making a move on his sister.
“You know she is. I put her on a plane to Paris yesterday,” Matthieu said. “Study abroad program. She’ll be gone the whole semester.”
Julie was in her final year at Columbia, brilliant and driven in ways Matthieu never had been. Pride bloomed in his chest at how far she’d come.
“Sounds fun.”
“Sounds expensive,” Matthieu grumbled.
Julie had a partial scholarship and lived with him in New Jersey to avoid the sky-high dorm fees.
Still, her education was slowly draining his bank account, though he’d never tell her.
If she knew the truth about their finances, she’d probably drop out on the spot.
Matthieu couldn’t allow that. She’d already been through too much.
He’d been granted custody of her when she was thirteen. Matthieu had been only twenty-one, barely out of his teens, and in no position to raise a child. But it was better than the alternative.
Julie was a hard worker, but he wasn’t na?ve.
Foster care had a way of making even the most curious, motivated kids fall behind—especially teens.
Chances were she wouldn’t have found placement at all and stayed in an overcrowded group home until she could file for emancipation three years later.
And then what? So, of course, Matthieu took her in.
Most days, he wasn’t sure if he’d raised her or if she’d raised him.
“All right, ladies,” Scott's voice boomed across the ice. Matthieu and Alexei winced at the terminology.
“I hate when he calls us that,” Alexei grumbled.
The league had made big strides in recent years toward inclusivity.
There were several out and proud active players on NHL rosters, and officials’ sexuality was no longer gossip-worthy.
That didn't stop some in the league, especially higher-ups, from resorting to jabs and insults that belittled both gender and sexuality.
They listened as Scott and a few senior officials rattled off the week's schedule in far more detail than necessary, until Matthieu was struggling to stay awake. He wasn’t sure why they were even on the ice for this part of the day. Eventually, it was time to skate.
Matthieu and Alexei glided over the ice, chatting about their summers.
For Matthieu, that didn't amount to much, but Alexei had far more exciting stories. He recounted his travels through South America in vivid detail, including a pair of twins he’d met in Argentina, with whom he’d done things that made even Matthieu’s eyes bug.
Matthieu was pretty sure most of it was exaggerated, but with Alexei, you could never be certain.
“Bouchard!” The sharp call cut through the air, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Matthieu murmured to Alexei before heading toward Scott, who stood in the visitor’s box. “Yes, sir?”
“My office in ten minutes. Get your skates off first.”
Scott didn't wait for a response or for Matthieu to ask what he meant by “his office,” especially since Scott didn't have one in Montreal. For all Matthieu knew, Scott expected him to make the trip to Toronto in ten minutes, but he gambled that Scott had taken over the small office in the official’s changing room.
Less than five minutes later, Matthieu had pulled off his skates, slipped on his slides, and was knocking on the door. Scott glanced up from behind the desk like Matthieu hadn’t been summoned.
“You wanted to see me?” Matthieu asked.
“Ah, yes. Take a seat. How was your summer?”
“Long and unremarkable, sir.” Matthieu doubted Scott cared about the answer, whatever it was.
“And your mother?”
Matthieu’s throat tightened. “Unfortunately, no change.”
“That’s a pity.”
Scott sighed, picked up a stack of papers, and shuffled them around before placing them in the exact same position.
“Well, I need to talk to you about what happened last season.”
Not this again. “I thought that was all resolved?”
Scott nodded. “So did I. And it was. However…” As always, Scott loved a dramatic pause. Matthieu sat with his hands folded in his lap, trying not to fidget while Scott took his time getting to the point. “There’s been a development.”
“Oh?”
“This hasn’t been announced yet, I believe the press conference is later today. Kieran Lloyd has signed with New Jersey.” Matthieu’s stomach dropped. “Now you understand why this could be concerning for the league.”
Boy, did he ever. His chances of officiating a Lloyd game had skyrocketed.
Referees didn’t have assigned arenas, but Matthieu lived in New Jersey.
He trained at the team’s practice facility and was scheduled to see them often this season.
Kieran would be unavoidable. Of all the teams he could’ve signed with, the New Jersey Inferno was by far the worst for Matthieu’s career.
“I’ll be honest,” Scott continued. “We’re not sure what to do here. Nothing can be done about the trade, and I know you’re not open to relocating.”
They both knew Matthieu’s refusal wouldn’t factor into the decision.
If the league wanted to change his home base, they would.
Matthieu had been lucky to stay in the Northeast so far, but that wasn’t guaranteed.
If the NHL moved him, he’d have to leave the organization or request a demotion to the AHL, undoing ten years of hard work.
“Sir, I promise it won’t be a problem. What happened was a one-time thing.” Matthieu tried to force confidence into his words.
“I know it probably feels like I’m beating a dead horse,” Scott said, voice steady. “I need to ask one more time: is there anything more to this story?”
“More like?” Matthieu’s heart thudded.
More like Kieran used to be his everything? Like he’d fallen in love with him and then been discarded during the hardest time in his life? Like his heart never fully healed from what Kieran had done to it? How he hadn’t been able to breathe when they’d been on the ice together?
“A history. You said you played together in college.”
“Yes, sir. Half a season.”
Anyone could find that online. Kieran had been the pride of the Michigan State hockey team. If you pulled up his freshman-year roster, Matthieu’s name would be at the very bottom, a footnote in comparison. No point lying about it.
“We didn’t interact much on the team.” Just behind closed doors. Naked. “I never had a problem with the guy.” The opposite, he’d been head over heels. “Then my mom got sick, and you know the rest.”
Scott didn’t know even a fraction of it. Only one other person on earth did.
Scott mulled it over for a long moment, stretching the silence until Matthieu’s anxiety turned unbearable. “I trust you,” he said, tone firm. “I know your character, Matthieu. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I don’t doubt this was just a blip on an otherwise flawless record.”
He felt a but coming.
“But what the league’s concerned about is the media circus this could drum up. It’s too late to adjust the officiating schedule, and frankly, I don’t have the energy or time to make sure you two never cross paths. It’ll have to be as it is.”
Matthieu’s stomach churned.
“I’m going to call Kieran’s agent,” Scott continued.
“I think it’s important the two of you are photographed together outside the rink.
A charity event, or something along those lines, would probably be best. Of course, as an official, we don’t want it to look like you’re best friends, but a little positive press showing you getting along would help. ”
Matthieu’s heart sank. Seeing Kieran on the ice was one thing, but being in the same space—let alone attending an event together—was unbearable.
He’d never admit it to Scott, but even before things escalated, watching Kieran glide across the ice had been torture.
It dredged up memories Matthieu had buried deep, ones he’d worked hard to forget.
Now they wanted him to spend time with Kieran outside the rink? Pure agony.
He had no choice. “Whatever you think is best.”
“I’ll get something set up,” Scott said. “If anyone from the media reaches out…”
“I know, sir. No comment.” Matthieu didn’t expect the press to hound him. If anything, they’d want that soundbite directly from Kieran.
“Atta boy. Now go get changed and settle in at your hotel. It’s going to be a busy week. I’ll have my assistant send details once we iron things out with Kieran’s agent.”
Scott gave him a brief pat on the shoulder before leaving, promising next time would be under better circumstances. Matthieu doubted it. You didn’t get summoned by the director when things were going well, so he wasn’t planning on seeing Scott again anytime soon.
Matthieu returned to the locker room. It was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers, Alexei among them.
“Thinking of hitting up a gay bar I found online. Want to come?” Alexei asked with a grin.
As tempting as getting drunk and maybe his dick sucked was, Matthieu was dead on his feet. After that reminder he was on thin ice, showing up hungover tomorrow wasn’t a great idea. “Nah, didn’t even make it to the hotel before I got here. I’m calling it an early night.”
Alexei didn’t bother pretending to be disappointed.
“Plus, I need to check in with our favorite exchange student,” Matthieu added.
“Ah! Yes! Say hello to my beloved.” With that, Alexei was gone, leaving Matthieu alone with his thoughts.
A text was already waiting for Matthieu by the time he reached his hotel an hour later.
Julie
Bonsoir mon frère!!!
Julie had sent it two hours ago. With the time difference, she was probably asleep, but he typed back anyway.
Matthieu
You made it to Paris in one piece?
Julie
Oui, Oui! C’est Magnifique
She was committing to the bit.
Matthieu
Grand-père would be rolling in his grave if he knew you could only speak French via Google Translate.
Julie
Pot kettle noir. Or however you Americans say.
Matthieu
I’m Canadian. Fuck you very much.
French Canadian, I should add.
Julie
Such language in front of ze lady.
Your father is Canadian, and our mother is half French. That doesn’t count. The only way there’s French Canadian DNA in you is if you’ve already met a man in Montreal.
Matthieu was starting to get the feeling his sister was several heavy pours into a bottle of wine.
Matthieu
Goodnight, Julie.
Julie
Goodnight! Je t’aime xx.