Page 141 of Breakaway Goals
Morgan didn’t say that theAlexanderpart had been the issue with that, but he had a feeling he didn’t have to, if the way Barty’s gaze went cold when he said his name was any indication.
“Can’t blame him for that,” Morgan muttered. Fought against his own inclination to apologize for his inadvertent role in that whole mess.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Barty said, like he hadn’t said anything, “you two are free to live your lives the way you want to. Hayes said he’s taking care of the team, like the actual players on the team, and he said Finn knows.” Morgan nodded. “The only thing left I want to say about this whole thing is you’d better not fucking break his heart again.”
Morgan had always thought Barty was a bit of a buffoon. All flash and no substance. Had wondered more than once why Hayes kept him around. But now Morgan was wondering if that had just been a convenient and clever act, andugh, if he’d fallen for it, he was a little embarrassed.
Natasha would have a good laugh if he ever decided to tell her.
“I won’t. I wouldn’t.” He nearly stuttered in surprise, suddenly too eager to lay that killer expression in Barty’s eyes to rest.
“Good,” Barty said, leaning back in his chair again. He picked up his beer. “Now, do you want to go over the talking points I’d like you to cover in your segment?”
“I can handle it,” Morgan said, annoyed again. He’d told Hayes he didn’t need this meeting. That he knew exactly what to say. But he supposed he couldn’t be mad or annoyed, even, that Barty and Hayes wanted to cross everytand dot everyi.
“It’s not about you not handling it,” Barty said, proving again that he might actually be a good agent. Morgan should behappier about this than he was, because he needed Hayes to have the best, always.
This was going to be Hayes’ last contract, hockey fates willing, and Morgan wanted what he wanted so badly he was nearly burning with it.
He knew, too, that if he channeled even a fraction of the burning indignation he felt, the actual words he used wouldn’t matter.
But he’d tolerated eighteen holes of golf and now this interminable lunch with Barty already. He might as well listen to what Barty had to say.
“Then tell me,” Morgan said.
Six years ago, he’d have rather died than be a parrot for anyone, especially Bartholomew Smith III, but he’d learned a lot in that time. How to be less of an ass. How to mostly listen to what others wanted. How to make an attempt to deliver it, instead of ignoring it entirely.
But most of all, he’d learned what it was like to live without Hayes Montgomery, and he’d jump through a hell of a lot more hoops than this to never have to live like that again.
The last time he’d done this, it had never felt right and, not surprisingly, the relationship had completely imploded after that. Hayes told himself it was totally different this time around.
Not just because he couldn’t evensensean implosion on the horizon, and with Alexander, things had always felt one bad fight from falling apart completely, but because Alexander hadn’t been a hockey player. He’d been a marketing exec, completely removed from the team.
Morgan was one of the most famous hockey players of all time,andthe father of their rookie goalie.
“Hey,” he announced to the locker room as they got changed after morning skate. They had a home game tonight against the Leafs. “Can I get your attention for a sec?”
“Sure yeah, Cap, what’s up?” Jasper asked, glancing up after he tossed his balled-up sock tape into the garbage and totally missed.
Hayes sighed as he walked over, bending over and picking it up, depositing into the trash. “As you’ve noticed, Morgan Reynolds has been around some this season.”
“Yeah, ’cause he’s the rook’s daddy,” Lars said.
“Uh, yes, that is true,” Hayes said. “But he’s going to be around, um, more, too.”
“Why is heyourdaddy too, Monty?” Someone—Hayes thought it might have been Silov—teased.
He went bright red. “Uh, no.No. But we are uh, dating.”
The locker room fell silent.
“No shit?” Jasper was the one who broke it, like a plate crashing to the floor. “Wow. Way to get it done, Cap. Aiming for the stars there.”
If it was possible, Hayes flushed redder and focused his gaze on the opposite side of the locker room, on the blank white board that Coach sometimes used to break down plays between periods.
“Personally,” Finn piped up from his stall, “I think it’s my dad that’s lucky.”
“Thanks, Finn,” Hayes said. This was worse than he’d imagined it might be. Way worse than it had been with Alexander. But he’d needed to do it, because he’d extracted a promise from Morgan that he’d come around the locker room more after home games—not just for Finn but forhim, too—and the first time Hayes indulged in even the faintest hint of PDA, the team would freak out if they didn’t already know the truth.
