Page 28 of Breaking the Ice
But Zach didn’t know if he agreed. Wasn’t sure if he’deveragreed, but now that he and Gavin were going to be working together for the foreseeable future, he already knew his crush wasn’t going to go away.
Considering the way his heart had stuttered when Gavin had walked into the room this morning, hair cut, still curling just around the tips of his ears, freshly shaved, pressed slacks hugging his perfect thighs and a tight polo emphasizing just how wide his shoulders were, there was probably no hope for Zach.
He wasinthis, whether he wanted to be or not.
Whether Gavin was in it or not.
“Besides,” Gavin said, smiling, “you left your card for a reason. You knew I’d reconsider.”
Part of Zach wanted to tell therealtruth. Why he’d actually left the card. Sure, yes, the job had entered into it. Had there been some faraway, nearly impossible fantasy of Gavin calling him for a hookup? He wanted to deny it, even to himself, but he knew the truth.
But he wasn’t going to share that. It was embarrassing enough that Gavin was still mentally thinking of him as that nineteen-year-old kid. Awkward and gangly, without an ounce of game.
He’d been good on the ice, and that was it.
Twenty-seven-year-old Zach was different.
“Right, yeah. That’s why I left it. The job,” Zach said. His voice didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.
But if Gavin wasn’t convinced, his poker face was too good to give it away.
He wanted to say something else, to make it clear that he’d certainly had other thoughts, othernon-coachingthoughts, but between the way Gavin had shoved him back into the ex-player box to all his utterly platonic assumptions, Zach didn’t even know where to begin.
Gavin hadn’t left him any room.
The door opened, and Sidney Swift walked in. “Oh, good, you’re getting some quiet,” he said to Gavin, who nodded.
“I . . .uh . . .I need a moment,” Zach said.
It was stupid, he was alreadyhavinga moment.
But he couldn’t confess to Hayes how wildly disappointing this was in front of Gavin.
Besides, Sidney was already going over the rest of the day’s schedule and Gavin was nodding, clearly absorbed in what he was saying.
Nobody was going to miss Zach. Not for five minutes anyway.
He ducked out the door and went down the hallway, in the opposite direction of the media room, and to a bathroom in a section of the building that would be empty if the team wasn’t playing yet.
Zach’s memory was right; it was a single stall, with a locking door.
He pulled the door closed and dialed Hayes.
“Hey,” Hayes said, sounding distracted. Like maybe he was in the car. “Everything okay?”
“No. Everything’s not okay,” Zach said in a rush.
“He just got there. How bad could it be going already?”
“Bad,” Zach said darkly. “I finally got him alone, after the press circus, and I started saying how I was so glad he’d taken the job and gave him an opening to tell me . . .I don’t know,something.But instead he fucking talked about how I was his player. How he’d coached me.”
“Ouch,” Hayes said. But he didn’t sound particularly surprised.
“Yeah, it fucking sucked.” Zach hated how despondent he sounded. “I didn’t expect him to . . .I don’t know, fall to his knees or something, but I thought he wouldn’t deny the whole thing.”
“Seriously? You thought he was just going to tell you, I know I spent the last four years alone because my wife died, and everyone thinks I’m straight, including probably me, but hey you wanna hook up sometime?” Hayes’ tone was kind, but blunt.
And maybe that blunt honesty was what Zach needed to get his head screwed on right.
