Chapter 23 Matthieu
TWENTY-THREE
MATTHIEU
Asmug Russian was at the end of Matthieu’s bed when he woke.
Alexei stood with his arms crossed, a knowing smirk turning up the corners of his mouth, his eyes locked on the Kieran-shaped lump curled up against Matthieu’s side.
Matthieu blinked again. Maybe if he lay still enough, Alexei would vanish like an annoying dream.
He tested the theory several more times—no such luck.
Finally, he sighed and lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, shooting Alexei an indifferent look.
If he slipped out quietly enough, perhaps Alexei would leave without launching into a full interrogation.
With Kieran’s face smooshed into the pillow, there was a good chance Alexei hadn’t recognized him.
It wasn’t Alexei’s business who Matthieu shared his nights with, after all.
They’d never talked about this kind of thing before.
Alexei chuckled, clearly amused by whatever lay on the floor at his feet. He bent down and scooped it up, collecting the evidence in his arms. That damn Seattle hoodie.
Yesterday, it had been a comfort, soft against Matthieu’s skin, clinging like a memory he wasn’t ready to let go of. Wearing it had felt like belonging to Kieran for a few stolen hours, even if only in secret. Now it was a careless thing on the floor, a silent confession.
Alexei tossed it onto Kieran’s stirring back. “Out, hockey player.”
Kieran bolted upright, spinning to take in the unexpected guest.
“I need to talk to my friend.”
“Shit,” Kieran groaned. He scrubbed a hand over his face, apparently attempting the same tactic Matthieu had tried, willing Alexei to disappear behind his palms.
“He won’t say anything,” Matthieu muttered, though Alexei’s raised eyebrows weren’t exactly reassuring.
“I’m not a gossip,” Alexei finally confirmed. “Now up. Matthieu has a game in the city, and…” He glanced at a watch he wasn’t wearing. “I think you’re late for practice.”
“Fuck.”
Kieran sprang from the bed, unbothered by his nakedness as he scrambled to get dressed. Alexei made no effort to avert his eyes. Quite the opposite. He watched Kieran’s ass as he tugged on his gym shorts, his curiosity piqued. Matthieu fought to hold back a snarl.
“Erm…” Kieran hovered, now dressed. “Can I see you later?” His eyes flicked between Matthieu and Alexei, unsure who he needed permission from.
“Yeah,” Matthieu said softly. “I’ll call you after I see my mom.”
“Want me to drive you again?”
“No need, hockey player,” Alexei cut in. “I’ll take him.”
Matthieu fought the urge to roll his eyes. Alexei wasn’t the possessive type; this was a game to him, a poke to see if Kieran would rise to the bait. Kieran just nodded and slipped out, the click of the front door loud in the silence that followed.
Alexei turned back to Matthieu, one brow raised.
“Don’t bother,” Matthieu said before Alexei could speak. “I know it’s a bad idea.” I’m just not sure I care anymore.
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Right.”
Alexei sat on the edge of the bed like he had any right to be there. “It’s not my business who makes you cum at night. I’m just surprised.” He fussed with the sheets, pulling them snug over the corner where they’d come loose. “He looked at you like this wasn’t the first time.”
Matthieu was absolutely not doing this with Alexei right now. “What are you doing in my apartment, Alexei? How did you even get in?”
“Julie gave me a key.” Of course, she had. She probably called him to check on Matthieu after their fight, too. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I’m ending it. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to shower.”
“Yeah, I imagine you do.”
After several minutes of silent staring, it was clear Alexei had no plans to leave.
Fine. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Matthieu naked before.
They’d showered near each other plenty of times after games.
Matthieu slid from the bed, doing his best to hide where Kieran’s release had dried sticky against his chest. Falling asleep right after sex wasn’t like him.
It felt dirty, almost perverse. He hated feeling so unclean.
Alexei followed him into the bathroom, hopping onto the counter and swinging his legs while Mathieu let the shower heat up.
His heel tapped the cabinet in a repetitive thud, thud, thud, each one driving Matthieu closer to madness.
Matthieu was pretty sure Alexei was doing it on purpose, annoying him with these small, calculated motions.
Hovering expectantly until Matthieu caved to get him to leave.
Apparently, it was working.
“You’re seriously going to sit there?”
“Obviously.”
Matthieu tried to block him out, setting the water to near-scorching before slipping beneath the spray.
He scrubbed his skin. The relief of feeling clean outweighed the regret of washing away every trace of Kieran.
He didn’t want to erase Kieran. Maybe before.
Definitely before. Now he wanted to cling to him, hold on to the moment, and refuse to let it slip through his fingers.
Goddamn, he’d wasted so much time.
If he’d just answered one of Kieran’s calls back then, he would’ve known the truth and maybe avoided all the years of heartache that followed. He’d been such a fool. But what was he supposed to think? Would he have even believed Kieran back then? Did he believe him now?
What he really needed was advice, something he wasn’t used to asking for. There was Alexei, perched on the bathroom counter, inspecting his nails with that performative casualness only someone waiting for a confession could pull off.
“Kieran and I were together in college,” Matthieu finally muttered into the spray.
Alexei’s tapping stopped. Matthieu risked a glance at his friend, whose eyes were wide, realization plastered across his face. “Wait. Kieran Lloyd is that guy?”
“Yup,” Matthieu admitted.
“The one you found out cheated on you, the day your mom got diagnosed?”
“One and the same.”
Matthieu hadn’t known Alexei back then. They’d met years later while working together in the AHL, but Alexei had a knack for pulling the truth out of him.
“Or so I thought…” Matthieu searched for the right words. “Turns out… I might’ve had the whole thing wrong.”
He told Alexei everything, his voice low and muffled by steam. The misunderstanding. Kieran’s silence to protect him. The media stories that only confirmed the version Matthieu had already convinced himself of.
“Petrov? As in Ivan Petrov?”
Matthieu nodded. Alexei’s brow furrowed, not with confusion this time, but something else.
“Maybe he’s lying,” Matthieu sighed. It was clearly what Alexei was thinking.
There was a good chance Kieran had spun the story he told him last night, bending the truth just enough to force Matthieu into forgiving him. What did Kieran even gain from that? They’d been separated for years.
Sure, they were sleeping together again, but it’s not like anything real could come from it. Could it? Even if something could come from it, could Matthieu go there again when he wasn’t completely sure of the truth?
“I don’t know why I want to believe him so badly.”
“Because you love him,” Alexei whispered, meeting Matthieu’s eyes through the fogged-up glass. It wasn’t a question.
Matthieu shut off the spray and cracked the door, reaching for a towel from the rack beside Alexei’s head. He dried off in silence, then wrapped it around his waist and stepped in front of his friend.
“Does that make me an idiot? All I have is his word against years of evidence that says otherwise.”
Alexei seemed to be seriously considering that, so Matthieu left him to it and headed back into the bedroom to get dressed. It was a mess. Clothes and pillows lay scattered across the floor, tossed aside in a rush to clear the way. Matthieu hated it.
He was nearly done tidying when Alexei finally emerged. “I could find out for you.”
Matthieu scoffed. “Why would Kieran be more honest with you than he was with me?”
“I’ll ask Ivan.”
Matthieu got stuck on Alexei’s casual use of the player’s first name. The way it rolled off his tongue sounded so… familiar. “You don’t even know Ivan Petrov.”
Alexei sighed. “We have… a mutual friend.”
The tone Alexei used made it clear there was more to that story, but he held up a hand, signaling he wasn’t about to explain further.
“Would it change things?” Alexei finally asked. “If what you know now turns out to be the truth, then what?”
“It changes everything. I don’t know how to live with that.”
Because how the fuck was Matthieu supposed to look Kieran in the eye, knowing he’d thrown everything away over a half-heard sentence he hadn’t been brave enough to question? Ten goddamn years—wasted. Lost to fear, stubborn pride, and a truth he’d never let Kieran explain.
Maybe they wouldn’t have lasted. Maybe life would’ve pulled them apart anyway.
Kieran would’ve still gone on to shine like he was born to.
Matthieu still would’ve been called home to pick up the pieces of his family.
At least then their break-up would’ve been real.
Honest. Not built on a lie he let himself believe to make leaving easier.
He’d spent all this time mourning something he thought Kieran had destroyed. Hating Kieran. Hating himself. Believing he wasn’t enough—that he wasn’t worth loving.
All this time—all this fucking time—it was him.
He was the one who tore it all down. The one who walked away. The one who left Kieran bleeding while he ran. Like a coward.
Now he could never get those years back. Couldn’t undo the hurt. All he could do was live with the weight of it, knowing he’d thrown away something he should’ve held onto with both hands.
“We wasted so much time, Alexei,” Matthieu choked. “Time we’ll never get back.”
Alexei pulled Matthieu into his arms, rough and awkward, his body stiff with the discomfort of affection.
He murmured something low and urgent in Russian against Matthieu’s temple.
It wasn’t until those unfamiliar Slavic words brushed his skin that Matthieu realized he was crying—and didn’t even care.
Apparently, everyone in his life was going to see how broken he was.
“You can’t change the past,” Alexei said, switching back to English. “You can only change how you move forward. If you love him—if you’ve loved him all this time—then you need to decide, right now, that you’re all in. You can’t get those years back, but you can make the most of the ones ahead.”
Alexei made it sound so damn simple. It couldn’t be more complicated.
“I’m scared,” Matthieu whispered.
“You’re scared because you already know what it’s like to lose him. If you don’t fight for it now, you won’t stand a chance of avoiding that again.”
Matthieu swallowed hard, the words clawing at his throat. His mind spun with everything that could go wrong—every risk waiting to crush him the second he dared to hope.
“What about the league?” he rasped. “Do you know what a nightmare it’d be if we were discovered?”
Alexei’s mouth tightened into a grim line.
“Believe me, I do. I won’t pretend it’ll be easy.
” He paused, choosing his next words carefully.
“Even if you intend to keep it a secret—even if you keep this behind closed doors—you need to be careful. If it gets out, they’ll dig into every call you’ve made in an Inferno game.
They’ll analyze it under a microscope, looking for signs you showed him favoritism. ”
The thought twisted Matthieu’s stomach. All those long hours of training, the years he’d spent clawing his way up through the ranks, could all vanish like smoke.
“I could lose my job,” he said hollowly.
“You could.” Alexei pulled back to meet Matthieu’s eyes. “Tell me—is your job worth more than your heart?”
Matthieu drew a shaky breath. The rational answer should’ve been yes.
Of course it was. How could one man be worth throwing away a dream he’d worked so hard to achieve?
But the truth wasn’t rational. It was messy, terrifying, and dangerous.
Yet standing here, bleeding out with regret, Matthieu found he already knew.
Nothing mattered more than Kieran.