Page 49 of Breaking the Ice
“Great,” Zach said sarcastically.
“I know. When I was here before, he was only the assistant AD and he wasn’t so . . .well, you know.”
“Pushy? Gossipy?Interfering?”
Gavin laughed. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t call him interfering, not exactly, anyway. He’s letting us do what we want.”
“He’d better,” Zach said.
Gavin couldn’t help it; he laughedagain.
This was why he hadn’t been able to deal without this. Helikedfeeling this way. He wanted to feel this way all the time.
Content and happy andseen.
Something he should probably talk to Jon about. But surely, there was no harm in it. Because Zach was getting something from it too, clearly. They were friends. Gavin was his coaching mentor. It was him and Zach, against the whole world.
And nothing had felt more right than that.
“See you tomorrow. Breakfast at Jimmy’s,” Gavin said like Zach might’ve forgotten.
“Right, yeah. See you tomorrow.”
After he hung up, setting his phone back on the charger, Gavin realized that he was sleepy now. Settled.
A second later he fell asleep, a smile still on his face.
Chapter 8
September
Zach didn’t think he’d been so happy in his whole goddamn life.
Not when he’d been drafted. Not when he’d taken his rookie lap. Not when he’d scored his first NHL goal.
Not even when his beer league team had won the city championship or when he’d graduated with his bachelor’s degree.
Nothing felt as good as this—Gavin pressed to his side on the bench, the last thirty seconds of their first game ticking down.
The Evergreens were up five to zero, and the Cougars hadn’t even pulled their goalie, because one—eventwo—goals wasn’t going to make a bit of fucking difference.
Not tonight.
Gavin was practically vibrating next to him, and he knew that if he turned and looked, he’d see pure joy on his face.
He almost did it, but then Elliott leaned back and caught his eye, and he leaned in to check in with him instead.
“You good?” Zach asked.
Elliott nodded. He was beaming, too. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d had two goals and an assist on Ivan’s goal. The hopes for the first line, with Elliott and Ivan and Mal, had been high, maybe even too high. Last night, he’d mentioned to Gavin that maybe they’d put too much pressure on them. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to deliver at the rate everyone was expecting them to.
But he shouldn’t have worried.
Elliott was glowing, and even Malcolm didn’t look nearly as disgruntled as he normally did.
“Hey,” Elliott said, “how ’bout that power play goal?”
Zach grinned. “You know it was sick.”
