Page 12 of Breakaway Goals

Morgan didn’t think he’d ever been so worried that when the puck dropped in a game, he wouldn’t be able to lock in the same way he always did.

After all, Hayes was right there , just across the ice in warmups and right there on the bench, an inescapable presence at his right shoulder.

But to his surprise, it felt like their connection made him play better . Elevated his game and seemed to do the same with Hayes.

“Sick shift,” Danny said, leaning in from his left.

It would be easy to say Danny was the singular reason he was forcibly prevented from obsessing about Hayes.

About his eyes and his jawline and the way his sweaty hair swooped over his forehead.

The way the skin above his cheekbones flushed just faintly pink when he’d met Morgan’s eyes over the breakfast buffet this morning, like he hadn’t sunk to his knees and sucked Morgan’s cock less than twelve hours earlier.

It wouldn’t be easy to forget about Hayes—not after last night, anyway—but Danny was annoying enough he’d probably make it possible.

But to Morgan’s surprise, he was able to decently compartmentalize, separating the soft, scorching hot half-naked Hayes from hockey Hayes.

“Thanks,” Morgan said, keeping his eyes on the ice where the second line was taking the puck past their blue line towards the Finns’ goal.

He and Danny and Hayes hadn’t scored, but they’d made a good effort, two decent shots on goal, but what brought him the most optimism was the way they’d played together. Like the line was finally beginning to come together.

“Yeah, it was good. Decent rebound attempt,” Hayes agreed, leaning in. His leg was pressing against Morgan’s. It was the first time out of thousands where it made his breath catch, but he was still able to mostly push the feeling away.

Danny grimaced. “I was an inch away from getting the puck in the net.”

“You’ll get it next time,” Morgan said, patting him on the knee.

Hayes nudged him, shooting him a little grin. “You gonna give me any encouraging bullshit, Cap?”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Not bullshit,” he claimed, “and you don’t need it. You had a great angle, that was just a pretty decent block by Saros.”

“Yeah, that bastard,” Hayes whined good-naturedly.

“Hey—” Danny only got part of the sentence out before the whole bench was erupting, Noah sinking a deep shot between the post and Saros’ left pad.

“Sick!” Danny screeched in his ear as the players shot to their feet, crowd raucous at the first goal of the game. They might be in Toronto, but no doubt they were excited to see scoring so early in the period.

Morgan sank one of his own less than a period later, and Danny finished it off with a great rebound—this one Saros didn’t block—and they won handily three to zero.

Morgan almost, almost , felt bad that he didn’t have any reason to drag Hayes out to that empty hallway and chastise him.

He announced to the room, already celebrating as he walked in, “Great game, guys. Let’s keep it going. Canada in two days. That’s gonna be the championship preview.”

At 2 – 0 in the tournament so far, that was increasingly looking likely to be the case.

Not that anyone was probably surprised. Sweden and Finland could play spoiler, but they were only dark horses.

The favorites were, without question, the US and Canada, and after the US had taken care of business and avoided losing to a team they should have beaten, there was no question they’d be in it.

Morgan made his rounds, even stopping by the goalie end of the locker room, giving Braun a brief pat on the head. He’d shut out the Finns, which was hardly a given. They had some real firepower on that team, and he’d kept them out of the net.

That deserved, at the very least, some kind of acknowledgment, even if Morgan personally hated his guts.

“Good game,” Morgan muttered.

Acknowledgment didn’t mean he had to be friendly about it.

Jacob glanced up, a knowing glint in those dark brown eyes. “Thanks, Reynolds.”

“Keep it up,” Morgan said.

“Or what?”

Morgan grimaced. “Or I’m gonna light you up when we’re done with this.”

Jacob just laughed. “Oh yeah, like you normally do?”

Ugh. He really hated that guy. The one goalie in the NHL that always seemed to have his number.

Admittedly, Braun had a lot of other players’ numbers, too, considering how good he was.

But Morgan wasn’t just anyone; if he was the best like everyone claimed he was, then he should be able to score on the best.

But points always seemed to elude him where Braun was concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan muttered and stepped away before he said something very un-captainly.

He had his gear half off when Danny leaned in, the music and the general celebratory atmosphere making it so barely anyone could hear him except for Morgan. “Did I sense something between you and Monty?”

Ugh. What happened to Danny being a self-centered dick who wouldn’t notice subtext or subtlety if it hit him over the head?

Maybe Danny was finally growing up, but Morgan thought he kind of liked him better as a clueless idiot.

Especially when he was giving Morgan shit.

Especially when he was giving Morgan shit about Hayes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan said, not looking up from the laces on his skates.

“Sure you do,” Danny said knowingly. “There was tension before, but this is a new kind of tension. You finally do something about it, Mo?”

“Maybe he did something about it,” Morgan said under his breath. Told himself he wasn’t confirming anything.

“Yeah right,” Danny scoffed. “Monty? He wouldn’t dare unless you gave him a green fucking light.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Lots of maybes here, Cap,” Danny teased.

“Why does it even matter?”

Danny had the nerve to look hurt. Real hurt or faux-hurt? It was impossible to say. Morgan hated it either way. “Aw, I’m hurt. Here I am, caring about you two because of the intrinsic goodness of my heart. Why shouldn’t I hope that my two lineys get their dicks wet?”

“I’m just shocked you know the word intrinsic, ” Morgan said, chuckling despite his annoyance.

“I’ve got a word of the day calendar in my bathroom. It’s a nice routine, you know? Take a shit. Learn a word.”

There was nothing Morgan could say to that so he said nothing. Nothing was definitely safer.

But then Hayes wandered over, down to his base layers, sweaty hair curling over his forehead, and the overwhelming want that Morgan had kept tamped down all day and throughout the game surged back.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look .

But Hayes was looking at him and speaking now, so he couldn’t do anything but helplessly raise his eyes. “Hey, a bunch of us are going out and grabbing some food,” he said. Including Danny with a sideways glance. “You wanna join?”

What Morgan wanted was to follow Hayes back to the hotel, crowd him in the elevator, and then drag him to his room and see if he’d have the guts to put his mouth on Hayes’ pretty cock.

But that was definitely not a plan he could disclose in the locker room or with Danny hanging on to every word they were saying to each other.

He wanted to say no, because he didn’t want it to be him, three quarters of the team and Hayes.

He wanted it to be just him and Hayes. But some Hayes was better than no Hayes at all.

And maybe he could take advantage of the low light of some Toronto bar and flirt with him a little.

Convince him that their hookup should continue.

“Sure,” Morgan said. “Count us in.”

Hayes smiled brightly, like Morgan had just made his whole fucking night. “Great.”

“Oh, Cap,” Danny said in a commiserating tone after Hayes walked away, “you are so fucked.”

Morgan elbowed him on the way to the showers. “Shut up,” he told Danny who only grinned, like the two of them were the best entertainment he could imagine.

This whole thing was awkward enough without Danny being there, offering his nonsense commentary.

He wasn’t fucked. He had this under control.

But then he caught sight of Hayes laughing with Cal, and he nearly tripped right over someone’s skate guard.

Totally under control.

Okay, maybe Morgan was a little bit fucked.

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been interested in someone—for sex or for anything else—and couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. Morgan didn’t think he ever had, frankly. Even his ex-wife, whom he’d been in love with and had Finn with, hadn’t captivated him like this.

But what was he doing now, in this Toronto bar?

Sitting in a dark booth and glowering as Hayes talked up the whole fucking joint, charming teammates and random Canadians alike.

He was wearing this long-sleeved dark green henley and it clung to all his slim muscles and brought out the color of his eyes.

Then the jeans that fit him like a glove, calling attention to how delicious his ass and thighs were.

Reminding Morgan that he’d never really given a shit about a guy’s ass and thighs before but now couldn’t get over this particular set.

It was unfair. Life was unfair.

Morgan debated standing up and going over to the bar, where Hayes was seemingly holding court, and charming him right back.

He could do it.

Probably nobody would bat an eye—except Danny, of course, and Morgan was beginning to think he didn’t really count.

“You’re sitting over here and frowning. Monty ditch you already?”

Speak of the fucking devil.

Morgan shot Danny a half-hearted glare. “No.”

“Sure seems like it from where I’m standing,” Danny said, shifting his gaze from Morgan to where Hayes was leaning against the bar, yet another random Canadian guy flirting with him like the world was ending tomorrow.

Random guy put a hand on Hayes’ forearm and squeezed, all friendly chatter, and Morgan wanted to remove his whole arm from its socket.

It was not normal. Morgan was at least aware of that. But that only made it weirder. He never got jealous. Envy was not an emotion he was used to feeling.