Page 18 of Breakaway Goals
Morgan steeled his resolve. He’d called Finn, not just to check in on him, but also for . . .well, maybe some advice that only Finn could give.
“I’ve got a friend,” he said, and Finn probably assumed he was changing the subject. But he wasn’t.
“You have a friend?” Finn faux-gasped.
“Shut up,” Morgan grumbled. “You know I do. People like me.”
“No. People are afraid of you,” Finn said succinctly.
Some deep, painful part of Morgan wanted to ask if Finn was one of them, but he wasn’t sure he could hear the answer.Besides, this wasn’t supposed to be about the sometimes fraught relationship he had with his son.
“So I have this friend,” Morgan started again, “and he’s . . .uh . . .well, he always thought he was straight.”
“A common problem,” Finn joked.
Morgan rolled his eyes. “He thought he was straight, but then he met someone—”
“A guy?” Finn interrupted.
“Yes,” Morgan said, trying not to let his frustration and annoyance seep into his tone. This whole charade was stupid. Maybe Finn would even see right through it and pin him down.Who made you think you weren’t straight, Dad?
But Finn only made an impatient noise. “Okay, so your friend thought he was straight and then he met a guy and he’s attracted. What’s the deal?”
What’s the deal?Like this wasn’t a life-changing, life-altering occurrence. Like Morgan wasn’t going out of his mind wondering how to shift things back to how they’d been. He felt divided, betweenbefore, when Hayes Montgomery had just been another hockey player, agoodhockey player, that far too many people compared to him, butstilljust another hockey player, andafter, like he’d been chemically altered by the five minutes they’d spent in that empty hallway.
He couldn’t see Hayes the same way anymore. He’d lain awake far too late last night, going over everything again and again in his mind. The interviews. Them grabbing coffee. Practice. The game. Their first intermission conversation, when he’d tried to be gentle. The second intermission conversation, where he’d been honest, and that honesty had lit Hayes up and subsequently set Morgan on fire, too. Then the bar. Sitting too close in the booth, his fingers only millimeters from Hayes’ neck, from the spiky ends of his dark brown hair. He’d wanted totouch, even though he knew he couldn’t.
That heshouldn’t.
The elevator ride, where Hayes had tried to put distance between them, and Morgan should have let him, but he didn’t, because he just didn’twantto.
If Morgan had leaned in and kissed him goodnight, would that hero worship in his gorgeous green eyes grow hazier and hotter?
Then this morning, when he’d been soft and cuddly in his oversized hoody, his hair mussed from sleep, eyes filled with a sleepy affection as they’d sat across from each other and eaten their eggs in silence.
It was that ease, combined with the warmth blooming at the base of his stomach, that had driven Morgan to call Finn before they had to head to practice.
“Earth to Morgan.” Finn’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I asked,what’s the deal?”
Oh. Right.
“Well, he’s never . . .he’snot,” Morgan said. Not that it mattered. He was open-minded, far more than a lot of the other hockey players he knew. He’d started out vaguely accepting, and then the older Finn grew and the more Morgan understood about the challenges he faced, just by being who he was, the more stringent he’d gotten about his beliefs.
Two years ago, a player on the Bandits had uttered a shitty homophobic slur and Morgan had gotten him traded to another team. Acrappyteam.
He knew he was accepting, but it turned out that accepting queerness in other people was easier than accepting queerness in himself.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Finn said blithely. Clearly he had bought Morgan’s story about a “friend,” hook, line and sinker.
Morgan didn’t know if he was relieved by his son’s obtuseness or regretful.
“What do you mean?”
“Imean,” Finn said, chuckling, “that sexuality is on a spectrum. Your friend probably leans towards women, but he found the one guy that really cranks his motor.”
Did Hayes crank Morgan’s motor?
Morgan wanted to say no, but the answer was way too obvious, flashing neon lights in his head. He could lie to himself, but he’d always made it a habit never to do that.Yes.
