Page 6 of Breakaway Goals
Zach hummed. “You do anything else humiliating that I missed?”
“Totally spaced that Morgan and Jacob Braun hate each other?”
“God, you’re really batting a thousand over there. Maybe Ishould’vestowed away in your luggage. You need someone to keep you from tripping over your own goddamn skates at this point.”
Hayes sighed. “It was not my greatest moment. In a whole series of them, honestly.”
“You’re gonna be fine.” Zach didn’t sound like he really believed that was true, but at least he was saying it.
“I hope so.” Hayes took a deep breath. “They’re definitely putting us on a line together.”
“God, you and Morgan Reynolds. You’re gonna be on his wing. Try not to die of happiness or from a permanent hard-on.” Hayes didn’t need to see his best friend to see how hard he was smirking.
“Zachy—”
“Maybe something else to use when your coffee date jerkoff material gets old,” Zach teased.
“Contrary to popular believe, I donotjerk off to hockey highlights.”
“Maybe not to anyone else’s. But Morgan’s? Hell yes you do.”
Hayes really regretted that one time when he and Zach had gotten drunk, two or three years back, and Hayes had confessed how Morgan Reynolds did it for him in all kinds of ways. The hockey way, for sure, but thewished he was not as straight as he seemedway, too.
Morgan was justhot. On the ice, of course, with his soft hands and quick feet and unreal puck handling, sliding between defenders like they barely existed, muscling guys around like he was born to do it, andoffit, too. His eyes were more blue than green and sometimes even a deeply attractive hazel in certain lights, and his light brownish-red hair curled just right over his forehead when he went too long without cutting it. Hayes had spent way too many nights imagining Morgan rubbing the caramel-colored scruff edging his perfect jawline all over Hayes’ body.
It was never going to happen, of course, but it was still a fantasy he couldn’t seem to help.
“I’m kind of pathetic, aren’t I?”
Zach scoffed. “No way. You’re Hayes Montgomery. You’re gonna be top line for Team USA and you’re gonna be playing on Morgan Reynolds’ wing. Kind of the last thing from pathetic.”
“Okay, chill out,” Hayes said, laughing. “My ego’s gonna grow out of control.”
“Not likely,” Zach said flatly.
“Morgan gave me shit about that too. Being too modest.”
“Did you shit yourself?”
“When he said I was really fucking good? Yeah. But I’d already embarrassed myself enough . . .”
“Yeah, you really did.”
Hayes laughed. He’d felt weird and apprehensive about this whole tournament. He didn’t often blend well with other hockey guys, other than Zach and a handful on the Mavs—who weren’t going to be here. “Don’t hold back.”
“You’re damn good. You’re already a star, and you’re gonna be a superstar,” Zach said solemnly. “Now remember that when you go out there this afternoon with Reynolds, okay?”
Hayes said he would, tucked his phone in his pocket. Checked and then fixed his hair in the mirror, flicking the dark brown strands around—not that he thought it made any difference, because it wasn’t like he was going to be picking up here—and went down to lunch.
Calvin and Noah were there—they’d played together at the USA development program—and it was easy to sit with them and let their bullshit and snark flow over him.
Morgan was at a table with the coaching staff and the other goalie on the roster, Bram Jones.
Jacob Braun was on the other side of the room, laughing with some of the older guys.
Then they headed to practice, taking a bus to the arena.
It wasn’t the first time he’d played for Team USA; Hayes had won medals at the U18s and at World Juniors. The Mavs had gone deep enough into the playoffs the last few years that he hadn’t had a chance to play at senior Worlds.
