Page 11 of Breakaway Goals
He still didn’t know what the fuck had happened during the second intermission. Morgan had dragged him off to this abandoned section of the arena, where it was only the two of them. At first Hayes had been sure that Morgan was trying to let him down easy, give him some privacy when he kicked him off his line.
But instead he’d been earnest and then cocky, something burning between them that Hayes still couldn’t explain.
He only knew his breath had come short, his mouth had dried out entirely, his tongue feeling too big in his mouth.
Then Morgan had touched him and teased him and held him accountable.
It shouldn’t have been hot.
He should still be feeling humiliated that Morgan had correctly guessed that he’d starred in way too many of Hayes’ wet dreams, and there was definitely a bit of that.
But there was more, too.
“Morgan,” Coach Thompson barked, and he and Morgan and Danny went over the boards for their next shift.
He’d known he was fucking this up. But he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that this wasMorgan Reynoldsand he was supposed to pass him the puck, make him a play that was equal to his skill and would only buff his glory to an additional shine.
The thought hadn’t seemed so overwhelming when he’d been warming up, but the moment the puck dropped, he’d lost the thread, the pressure climbing up him, all the way up to his throat, until he felt like he was drowning.
“Come on,” Morgan yelled, skating hard towards their end of the ice, and Hayes pushed away the embarrassment, the worries,everything, focusing hard instead on the annoyance. How dare Morgan Reynolds act like he was nothing? Maybe he was Morgan Reynolds, buthewas Hayes Montgomery.
He’d won the Calder and the Rocket twice, and the Mavs had gone to game seven in the conference finals last year. Maybe he hadn’t won a Cup yet, but everyone talked about how it was only a matter of time.You know it’s only a matter of time.
He followed and then skated past him, taking the puck when Danny passed it to him, and he went hard around the back of the net, coming out the other side, surveying the way the players were arranged around the zone.
Morgan had a defender glued to him and so did Danny, but Morgan was Morgan, and if anyone could get open, it was going to be him.
Hayes dug his blades in and turned abruptly, hoping that Morgan would mirror him, and sure enough he moved with him, just enough that he shook his guy free.Make a play. That’s what you’re here for.And he did, shooting the puck between the defender’s legs. It hit Morgan’s tape and he barely held it for a second, before he shot it, going top shelf. The puck hit the net above the goalie’s left shoulder.
“Sick play!” Danny yelled as they crashed together in celebration, Morgan joining them, his elated smile tinged with something knowing when he knocked his helmet against Hayes’.
“Great pass,” Morgan said.
It had been a great pass and an even better play.
And he knew he’d only been able to pull it off because he’d gotten out of his own head. Played up to the skill he knew he possessed instead of focusing too hard on the pressure, on the player that everyone else expected him to be.
The additional goal had been exactly what the team needed because the Swedes slipped one more in, right at the end of the game, after they’d pulled their goalie.
But a win was a win, and as Morgan said, none of these teams were going to go down easy.
“That pass was absolutely filthy,” Danny said after, when they were stripping down to their base layers, sweat congealing on Hayes’ skin.
“Thanks,” Hayes said, nodding as he leaned down and began to unlace his skates.
“Good team win,” Coach Thompson said, striding into the locker room, clapping his hands. “That last goal—that’s what I want to see. Good passes, good plays.”
Hayes flushed, tucking his head down. He’d gotten the main assist sure, and he’d made the play happen, but Morgan had been the one to take the shot. He’d barely even had a split second to consider the multiple factors before he’d just done it.
But then that was what made Morgan so good. He didn’t need to hesitate. He justknew.
“Come on,” Danny said, wrapping his arm around Hayes, apparently not caring how gross he was. “I think you deserve a drink for that.”
Hayes shucked his arm off—not smiling, but not frowning either. “I didn’t even score the goal.”
“Yeah, but Mo wouldn’t have even got a chance at it if you hadn’t made that play.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He wasn’t going to argue Morgan’s brilliance with Danny.
