Page 146 of Breakaway Goals

“You’ve got a game tomorrow, right?” Barty asked.

“Yeah. A home game. And then we’re taking a short trip to Nashville.” Hayes drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Why, what’s up?”

“You’re gonna get asked about it when you do media. I want you to be prepared. Watch the segment, I know you didn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Hayes complained.

“Yeah, I do. I know you. You hate it when people say good shit about you, which, for the record, is weird, Monty.”

“It’s not weird.” He also really didn’t want to promise to watch it when he got home, because he knew Morgan would be there, waiting for him. And the only thing that would be worse than watching Morgan praise him would be watching Morgan praise him while he was right there.

“I love you, but it’s totally fucking weird,” Barty said. “Watch it. Be ready for tomorrow, okay? I’m going to send you the talking points.”

“I know what the talking points are,” Hayes protested.

“Youthinkyou know,” Barty said, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, fine.” He could hide in the bathroom or something and watch the video, volume cranked down with the subtitles on. He pulled into his driveway. “I gotta go.”

Barty sighed. “Say hi to Morgan for me.”

“How do you know—”

“You’re joking, right?” Barty interrupted with a bark of laughter. “Seriously, though, thank him for me. I’m gonna send him a huge fruit basket. Or maybe some wine. Oh—that new bourbon I tried—”

“Goodbye, Barty,” Hayes interrupted, before he could start laughing.

Sure enough, Morgan was on his couch when he walked in, a Predators-Hurricanes game on the TV.

“You scouting for me now?” Hayes asked, leaning in and resting his chin on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Jacob and I are arguing about Forsberg,” Morgan said distractedly as the player in question went over the boards for a line change.

“Yeah?”

Morgan made a frustrated noise. Debating Forsberg and how his and Jacob’s opinions on the guy differed was vastly preferable to discussing the segment that had aired this morning.

“You know Jacob does unofficial scouting for Finn.”

“I didn’t know but it makes sense,” Hayes said. Morgan hadn’t been doing that for Hayes, yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time.

“Anyway, he mentioned one of Forsberg’s moves and I’m trying to prove him wrong.” Morgan sounded very proud of this.

“I’m gonna leave you to it and take a shower,” Hayes said. It would be fun to sit here and listen to Morgan get annoyed about Jacob’s take on Forsberg, but he could also use the distraction to watch the segment in peace in the bathroom.

Morgan barely glanced back, nodding absently.

He flipped the shower on—he’d actually showered at the rink after practice, but Morgan didn’t know that. He could take another quick one, before they went to dinner.

Pulling his phone out, he clicked the volume way down until he could probably hear it but it was doubtful Morgan could. Not with the shower on and from the living room.

The video started playing, Hayes recognizing the setup from Morgan’s living room at the rental house. Morgan did several different segments regularly on ESPN but this was the show he did every week with a couple of other retired players. It was billed as a series of hot takes.

“I’ve got a real good one for you today,” Morgan said, looking laid-back and relaxed if you weren’t looking closely, but Hayes was always looking closely and he could see the excitement brewing in his hazel eyes. “The question I keep asking myself, over and over, is why the Sentinels are hesitating to give Montgomery the contract he wants.”

“You’re always so high on him,” Anderson, one of the other commentators, complained. It almost made Hayes want to look up what Morgan had been saying about him over the years.Almost.

“Nobody else is his age and playing at that elite level right now. He’s leading the whole team and third overall in points, fourth in goals. He’s going to drive the Sentinels to a second Cup. Why aren’t they falling over themselves to give him a five-year contract?”