Page 63 of Breakaway Goals
“What didyousay?”
“Nothing.” Hayes laughed, unable to deny how hysterical and unhinged he sounded. “Fucking nothing. I didn’t think—I didn’t think Ihadto say anything. I thought we were on the same page. No, wewereon the same fucking page. We won, and he looked at me . . .” Hayes couldn’t go on. It hurt too much, to think of how Morgan had looked at him yesterday. Like he hadn’t even realized he was a key, but then he’d seen Hayes’ lock, and it was magical the way they fit together.
On the ice, and off it, too.
“I saw,” Zach said in a low voice. “I know what you two looked like yesterday. You didn’t imagine it, Monty, I saw it.”
“I know,” Hayes snapped and then immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Zach’s fault that Hayes had been a monumental idiot. That he’d trusted in the basic decency and good intentions of someone who self-professed to be an asshole.
“So you didn’t try to stop him,” Zach finally said in a quiet, resigned voice.
“He made it so I couldn’t.” Hayes froze. He was furious. Resigned. Hurting. And then suddenly, he felt something even worse, a feeling that had to be understanding.
Hayes hadn’t even known what this thing between them would be like, and he hadsomekind of framework to fit into. Morgan clearly didn’t, and had freaked out. It was hard to even be angry about that, even if he was.
Zach hummed in sympathy. “It sucks, Monty. No way around it. It really fucking sucks. When are you coming home?”
“In a few hours.” He needed to pack. To get to the airport. Not discover sudden empathy for Morgan Reynolds.
“Good.”
But it was inevitable. “I didn’t even know what it was going to look like, between us,” Hayes said, the words tumbling out. “How was he supposed to know?”
“He was supposed to not ghost you,” Zach said sternly.
“I should’ve talked to him. I was just so tired last night—the win and the booze and then the sex—” He broke off. It felt weird telling Zach, who was his best friend, who hetrusted, about him and Morgan. That should’ve been an indication from the first that Morgan was different.
“I just should’ve talked to him. I should’ve. Even if it felt unnecessary. Even if I was afraid.” Hayes’ voice broke. Because that was really what it had been. He’d been terrified if he confronted Morgan with the truth, that Morgan wouldn’t pick him.
“You are not to blame here.” Zach still sounded steely, tough. Like he was five seconds from kicking Morgan’s ass. Like next time they faced each other on the ice, Zach was going after him.
Oh,God. They still had to play the Bandits one more time this season. Hayes didn’t remember when, but suddenly he was scrambling for his phone, frantically searching for the Mavs’ schedule.
“Shit,” he exhaled hard. Six weeks from now. It could be worse. It could be better, too.
“What is it?” Zach asked, sounding less stern and more worried, now.
“We have to play them again. In six weeks.”
Zach’s sharp exhale said it all. Then he said, “You’re gonna be fine, Monty. Six weeks. You’re gonna be good in six weeks. Like it never happened.”
Hayes wanted to believe that was true. Maybe in six weeks, Morgan would fade from his memory and from his heart, like he’d never wormed his way in in the first place.
Chapter 10
Six weeks later
Morgan had been through grueling stretches before. The end of the season always felt like a grind. Every Cup run felt like he was running on fumes, exhausted and worn to a shadow of his former self, at least until the puck dropped, and he found a new well of energy and drive—not just wanting to win, butneedingto win.
This was not the same.
He was tired, but not sleeping. When he finally did manage to fall into a restless sleep, the dreams haunted him.
Hayes smiling, Hayes laughing, Hayes scoring unbelievable breakaway goals.
Hayes soft and tender next to him in bed.
But when Morgan woke up, he was always alone.
