They’d been up five to one at the end of the second period, and he and Gavin had already started to discuss that if the lead held, how they’d approach the next game.
Gavin had already told Zach that he was going to put Finn in.
Of course, they hadn’t had time to tell Finn that, yet.
“Are you right?” Gavin said casually.
Morgan squirmed, and that was impressive because he was famous for never flinching under pressure. But Gavin was making him squirm now, and it was impossible for Zach to ignore just how insanely fucking hot that was.
Even hotter was the fact when they finally got home tonight, if Zach told Gavin to get on his knees, he’d do it, gladly and gratefully, lust in his eyes and love in his touch.
“You know I am,” Morgan muttered. “You want to win tomorrow’s game.”
“We could win with Nick in the net,” Zach pointed out.
Morgan rolled his eyes. “Nothing against Nick, he’s a fine goalie, but he’s not Finn, and you guys both know it.”
“He’s solid, for sure,” Gavin said.
“He’s going to ask you himself. I know he will. He wants to play.” Morgan didn’t need to say it for both of them to know it.
Finn hadn’t been particularly into the idea of resting for the playoffs when Zach had broached the subject. He wanted every start, every minute of experience, and Zach couldn’t blame him, because he was growing leaps and bounds every time he was in the net, his crisis of confidence solidly in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sure he will,” Gavin said. “And how’s he gonna feel when he finds out that you showed up here before we can eventhinkabout tomorrow’s game, demanding that we put him in?”
The red faded from Morgan’s face suddenly, bleaching it white. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything. God, no, don’t tell him. He’d be so pissed at me.”
Gavin patted Morgan on the arm. “Your heart’s in the right place, but you’re kind of an asshole.”
Morgan sighed, clearly resigned. “I’m trying not to be.” He glanced over at Zach and for the first time, really met his eyes. Zach had always wondered if Morgan knew thatheknew, but now he was sure. It was all there, regret hard-coded in his gaze. He didn’t know how to not be a dick. Not to his son. And not to Hayes.
“Well, do some more work on that,” Gavin said, patting him again.
“Thanks,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes.
When they headed into the locker room, without Morgan following them, Gavin turned to Zach. “You wanna go talk to him?”
“Finn?”
“Yeah. When the time seems right.”
“You could’ve told Morgan you’d already decided to put him in,” Zach pointed out.
Gavin just grinned. “And miss the opportunity to put that guy in his place? Hell no.”
They were still feeling out the limits of their relationship, in various locales, but this was the locker room—still a semi-sacred space where everyone who needed to know already knew they were together—and it felt very natural to lean in and press his lips against Gavin’s. “You’re hot when you’re cutthroat,” he murmured against Gavin’s mouth.
“Yeah?” Gavin didn’t sound like he hated that at all.
“Oh yeah,” Zach said. “Gonna show you how much, later.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
Historically, Gavin had always felt like teams werehis. Technically he supposed the players were their own, and he could also possibly make the argument that the teams he’d coached also belonged to the leadership—guys who wore the C and the As.
But he’d never looked out across the ice, watching his players as they warmed up, and felt the weight of expectations and ownership settling over notjusthim, but someone else too.
Zach stood next to him, not only bearing half that weight but also half the joy. Taking and giving and sharing until he didn’t know where he ended and Zach began.