Chapter 35 Matthieu #2
A flurry of activity broke out near the stage as someone jumped up to take care of it. Kieran simply stood and raised his voice so it filled the entire room.
“They want me to say Matthieu approached me for a loan. That I, being too stupid to see what it looked like, agreed. They want me to spin it so it sounds like he took advantage of my position in the league.” He shook his head.
“The truth is: I love that man. With everything I have. There is no price I wouldn’t pay to make him happy. ”
Matthieu’s breath caught in his throat. His knees felt like they might give out.
“I know our relationship is inappropriate given our positions. I know people will question Matthieu’s integrity, his ability to do his job objectively. I promise you that has never, and will never, be a problem. He is the most honest man I’ve ever met.”
Kieran looked down briefly, deep sadness flashing behind his brown eyes.
“He’s furious with me. He might never forgive me for what I’ve done. I acted alone. Without his knowledge. Without my team’s involvement. I would do it again, a thousand times over. The only thing I regret is that I put his career, the job he’s worked a decade to build, in jeopardy.
“My agent,” Kieran motioned toward Cole, who now looked practically catatonic, “advised me to end things with Matthieu. To distance myself from him for good. He told me that if I wanted to keep playing hockey, I had to give up the love of my life.”
A heavy silence followed.
“I already made that mistake once. I let ten years go by without him. I might’ve had a career every kid dreams of. I might’ve had fame. But I didn’t have him, and those were the emptiest years of my life.”
The GM had taken to hissing into his mic, desperate to regain the appearance of control. “A player cannot be romantically involved with a referee under any circumstances. It’s a conflict of interest.”
“Then you’ll understand when I say this.” Kieran turned to face the press pit again, eyes blazing. “I will cooperate with the league’s investigation. I will answer every question. I will give them whatever evidence they need. But as of today, I am officially retiring from the NHL.”
No.
“This season, 2023/2024, will be my last.”
On the screen, chaos erupted. Reporters surged forward like a dam had burst, practically scrambling over one another to ask the first question. Cameras strobed.
Kieran didn’t look at them. He looked straight at the lens. Straight at Matthieu. And mouthed three words: I love you. Then he turned and walked off the stage, leaving behind a room in stunned silence.
Matthieu was moving before he could think, out the door and into Kieran’s Jeep.
There was no time to hike the two blocks to his own car.
He made the ten-minute drive to Keystone Arena in less than five, weaving through traffic like a man possessed, and pulled into a parking lot packed with frantic fans.
He threw the car into park as close to the front doors as he could manage, then ran from it, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.
A security guard held out a hand to stop him, but recognition flickered across their face.
They dropped their arm and ushered him through the makeshift barricade toward the players’ entrance.
The crowd seemed to realize who he was at the exact moment the doors flew open, and a frantic-looking Kieran appeared. His eyes darted toward the crowd, flinching at the flashes, until they landed on Matthieu.
“Matty?” Kieran gasped. Then, remembering where they were, grabbed his hand and yanked him through the doors he’d just come from.
The metal door banged closed behind them, sealing off the noise and plunging them into silence.
Kieran’s eyes searched his face desperately, as if looking for something.
Matthieu opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
His heart thundered. His lungs were useless.
He couldn’t breathe through the ache in his chest.
“Did you watch?” Kieran finally asked, his hand lifting like he might brush Matthieu’s cheek, then stopping.
“Yes.”
“The whole thing?”
“Every part.” Matthieu nodded hard.
“And?”
God. The hope in Kieran’s eyes—how could he even ask that? After everything he had done, after laying himself bare in front of the league, the press, the entire goddamn world? How could he possibly still have doubt?
“I choose you, too.” The words tore out of Matthieu’s throat, rough and cracking. “I’ll choose you every time.”
Kieran’s shoulders crumpled as the weight he carried fell away.
His fingers finally touched Matthieu’s face, soft and reverent, and Matthieu couldn’t take another second of distance.
He grabbed the front of Kieran’s shirt and dragged him forward, pressing their mouths together in a kiss full of heat, and urgency, and everything he didn’t have the words to say.
Kieran melted into it instantly, one hand fisting in the back of Matthieu’s hair, the other cupping his jaw like he couldn’t bear to let go.
Matthieu let himself sink into it, into him, into the way Kieran kissed him like it was both a promise and an apology.
Like he’d waited a lifetime to be allowed this again.
The kiss slowed gradually, stretching into something softer, deeper.
No fire now, only warmth. The kind of closeness that made it impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began.
For so long, he’d been terrified of this exact closeness.
Terrified of loving Kieran, of reopening scars that had never fully healed.
To think he’d built those walls around his heart and called it self-preservation.
To think he’d sworn never to allow himself this again.
Yet here he was, pressed against Kieran in a back hallway, kissing him like it was the only way to get oxygen into his lungs, realizing he hadn’t been preserving anything at all; he’d been starving himself.
He’d never thought he could feel this safe with someone.
Never thought he could be wanted like this.
Never believed in a future where he was allowed to hope for something better.
Yet somehow, in the middle of everything falling apart—his career on the line, the league ready to dissect his life and study it under a microscope—he had never felt steadier.
He'd never felt more certain of anything in his life.
When they finally parted, Kieran leaned his forehead against Matthieu’s and exhaled a trembling breath.
“I don’t know what happens next,” he whispered.
“I can’t promise you’ll get to keep your job.
I don’t even know what I’m going to do now.
I have ideas, but none of them are figured out yet. I just—God, Matty, I’m so sorry—”
Matthieu pressed his fingers to Kieran’s lips, silencing the spiral. His thumb brushed the edge of Kieran’s mouth, soothing where the words had gone jagged.
“None of that matters,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out together. All that matters is this. All that matters is you.”
Kieran gave a short, unsteady laugh. His palm stroked Matthieu’s face like he couldn’t stop touching him. Matthieu hoped he never would. “Are you sure you want to tie yourself to an unemployed man?”
Matthieu huffed, though his chest still ached from everything they hadn’t said until now. “Between the two of us, I think I’m the one who should be worried about unemployment. I don’t exactly have millions in the bank to fall back on.”
Kieran’s smile tilted, softer this time.
“Maybe. I’ve been thinking… there’s more I want to do than just play hockey.
More ways to matter. I keep coming back to those kids from the event—the ones who never had anyone to look up to, who never had anyone to show up.
I want to build something for them. A place.
A foundation, maybe. Somewhere they know they’re safe, that they belong. ”
Matthieu’s breath caught. His chest tightened in a way that was almost painful.
He knew what it was like to be that kid—the one with nothing, no one, nowhere to fall back on.
He knew the cold sting of being overlooked, unwanted, and forgotten.
Here was Kieran, saying he wanted to give those kids what Matthieu could only have dreamed of growing up. A safety net. A lifeline. A home.
For a man who had spent years believing he was unlovable and unworthy, the earnestness in Kieran’s eyes undid him. His voice wavered, thick with emotion. “You’ll change lives.”
Kieran’s eyes darkened with something fierce. “Not alone, I won’t. But with you, I might.”
The sincerity in his words knocked the air out of Matthieu’s lungs. He tried for a smirk, but it wobbled, betraying the burn behind his eyes. “I’d like that,” he muttered. It was all he could manage against the surge of emotion in his chest.
Kieran’s hand slid into his hair again, grounding him. “You know, I wish I had a ring right now. This feels like the moment I’m supposed to get down on one knee.”
Matthieu smiled, eyes soft and sure. “Don't you dare. I don’t need a ring to know I’ll spend forever with you.”
Kieran kissed the corner of his mouth, gentle this time, then pulled back enough to whisper, “Then at least let me take care of you. Move in with me. Julie too. I’ve got room—more than enough. If we’re going to do this, start building our life together, I don’t want to delay the inevitable.”
Matthieu blinked hard, yet the tears still came, spilling warm across his cheek.
The yes left him before he could swallow it back.
“Okay.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care.
He meant it. Every piece of him meant it.
The last wall he’d been clinging to finally gave way, and it felt like he could breathe again.
Kieran brushed the tears away, kissing the track they left behind. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against his skin. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again. I’ve got you.”
Matthieu didn’t answer. Not with words. Just one more kiss—gentle and lingering, the kind that said everything he couldn’t.
When they finally broke apart, they didn’t move far.
The exit loomed beside them, the muffled hum of reporters and fans bleeding through the metal doors.
A thin crack of light cut across the floor, almost like a path pointing the way ahead.
Kieran’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “You ready to face this, or do you need another moment?”
Matthieu let out a rough laugh. “Let’s get it over with. I want to get you home and show you exactly who you belong to.”
The way Kieran flushed, lips parting around a breathless “Oh?” made heat curl low in Matthieu’s stomach. He loved that look—Kieran undone, pliant, all for him. Yes. When they finally made it home, he’d show Kieran exactly what he meant to him. Exactly who owned his soul.
They reached for the door, and Matthieu felt the crowd’s vibration on the other side.
Kieran pushed it open an inch, enough for the sound to slam into them: shouts, questions, the shriek of cameras.
Instinctively, Kieran shifted, his body angling like a shield.
For one heartbeat, Matthieu let him. Old habits to stay in the shadows tugged at him, but that wasn’t who he was anymore.
Not with Kieran by his side. Not after everything they’d fought through to get here.
He wasn’t going to hide. Not when Kieran had just walked away from the league.
Matthieu stepped up until their shoulders brushed, sliding his hand back into Kieran’s and lacing their fingers tight. His chin lifted. His pulse thundered, yet for once it wasn’t fear in his veins; it was certainty. Fierce, grounding certainty.
Side by side. Facing everything. Together.
The doors banged wide, and the world came crashing in: lights, flashes, the deafening roar of voices.
“What’s next for you, Kieran?” someone shouted.
“What’s next?” Kieran’s gaze found Matthieu’s, and even with a hundred cameras screaming for his attention, he spoke as if there was only one man on the planet.
“I get to build a future with the man who taught me what love really is—the strongest, most fearless man I’ve ever known.
He’s my heart. My home. My reason for everything.
What’s next is the rest of my life—our life. ”
Matthieu’s throat went tight. For so long, he’d been certain he wasn’t worth this kind of devotion.
Yet here was Kieran, telling the entire world he was worth everything.
Matthieu wanted to drag him back inside, shove him against the wall, and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.
Instead, with the storm blazing around them, Kieran turned that secret smile on him—the one that had wrecked him years ago and was wrecking him all over again.
“You ready to go home, Matty?”
“Sweetheart, I’m already there.”