Page 17 of Breakaway Goals

Hayes sighed heavier. “You are so fucking contrary, you know? Sometimes I just want to . . .”

“Want to what?” Morgan’s grin was shark-like.

“Not what you’re thinking. I want to knock some sense into you.

I’m not looking at you like I’m idolizing you, still.

I see you clearly. Probably too clearly.

” Shut up, shut up, shut up . But he couldn’t shut up.

Not now. Not when Morgan’s edges were finally softening. “I see you, ’cause you’re me.”

Morgan didn’t say anything. Just stared, wide-eyed at Hayes. Like it was finally hitting him. Or maybe that it was finally hitting him hard enough.

“You’ve got some time left,” Hayes continued, because he couldn’t stop now. “Your legacy’s already defined. These last few years are just gonna buff it to a real good shine. That’s all. It’s there. You did it. And when it’s over, you can put it down and not carry it around with you all the time.”

Morgan’s eyes slid away now. Like he couldn’t look any more. And Hayes got it. This had morphed into something else, gone totally sideways. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” Hayes said. “Because I don’t want to carry it either, when I’m your age. I want to believe that I can put it down if I want to. That being a first overall doesn’t define who I am forever.”

“That’s wishful thinking, right there,” Morgan grumbled, but he seemed lighter and easier when he met Hayes’ gaze again. His hazel eyes finally softening, some of that pain in them loosening and shaking free.

“Yeah, maybe. But it’s still wishful thinking I wanna keep,” Hayes said firmly.

He wasn’t lying. The idea of being Morgan’s age, of being older than Morgan and still trudging around with the weight of that first overall pick on his shoulders sounded excruciating.

“You’re . . .” Morgan’s tongue flicked out, licking his bottom lip. “You’re something else.”

“In a good kind of way, right?” Hayes chuckled, a little nervously.

But before Morgan could answer, a voice interrupted them.

“You two done in here? Practice’s over,” Danny announced loudly, striding towards them, still in his full gear and skates. He paused, still a few feet away. “It was really over the moment Mo here lost his shit. You good, bud?”

Morgan shrugged.

“Getting there,” Hayes said.

Danny nodded. “Dude, I get it. Sometimes Braun’s so good I wanna punch him in the face, too.”

Morgan made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

Hayes wanted to punch Danny in the face for muscling his way into this conversation.

“Danny,” he said, as patiently as he could, “can you give us a minute?”

“Oh, is this like a whole first overall thing then?”

Hayes rolled his eyes. “You were taken, what sixth?”

“And it’s not the same. Can’t pretend it is. Glad I don’t get it, though.”

“You should be,” Hayes said, a little too honestly.

“Alright. Well, bus is leaving in thirty so you better get your asses in gear.” Danny marched off.

Even after he was gone, Morgan didn’t say anything. Hayes put a hand on his arm, squeezed gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I . . .I’m never going to like him. It’s been too long thinking he’s . . .knowing that I’m . . .” Morgan bit off with a muttered fuck . “You get it. You get it .”

“I don’t have a goalie I want to cut off at the knees, yeah, but there’s players I don’t love playing against. Who make me feel like a little kid again, wondering if I’m ever gonna be good enough.”

Morgan relaxed another fraction. “Only one you can ever beat is yourself.”

“You ever gonna take that advice?” Hayes raised an eyebrow.

Morgan laughed, the last of the tension draining out of him.

He wasn’t fixed—not because he wasn’t broken, because living for so long with that kind of pressure always broke you, somehow—but because there was no fixing something twenty plus years in the making in five minutes.

“I’ll try,” Morgan said, and Hayes nodded, knowing that was the best he could expect.

“Good,” he said. Patted him on the arm. “Come on. Let’s get showered.”

After they got back to the hotel, there was a team lunch, then the team and the coaching staff spent hours breaking down film of the first two games the Canadian team had played in.

There were a few guys who were normally on teams with their players, and slowly but inevitably, they’d speak up, giving insights and advice, trying to do everything they could to get an edge.

Everyone knew it was going to be that close.

By the end of the afternoon, Hayes was mentally exhausted, begging off the dinner plans some guys were making and retreating to his room.

He took a long nap, woke up, ordered room service for dinner, and while he waited for it to arrive, called Zach. That was better than looking at his texts, at the group chat for the US guys, wondering if Morgan had said anything or reached out.

“Hey,” Zach said brightly. “You caught me right before I went out for dinner with some of the other guys. How’s it going?” For the bye week, some of the Mavs not going to the tournament had found an all-inclusive in Cabo and Zach had gone with them.

“It’s going.” Hayes knew he sounded tired, even after his nap.

“You ready for the Canadians?”

“I don’t know if you’re ever really ready for the Canadians,” Hayes muttered, “but we’re gonna do our best, that’s for sure.”

“Your line looks good.”

“It’s got Morgan freaking Reynolds on it, of course it’s great,” Hayes said before he could snatch the words back.

Zach just laughed. “Not over your crush, huh?”

“It’s . . .” Hayes wanted to say it was just a crush, still, but even he, with all his delusions, was having difficulty believing it.

He knew he should have texted Zach days ago and said, hey guess what, it’s not just a crush anymore and he isn’t straight and we’re having sex and it’s even hotter than my fantasies.

There’d been a part of him that wanted to. Another part that had held back, mostly because it hadn’t felt right to tell Zach about Morgan’s queerness but also because Zach would argue this was a terrible fucking idea.

“Oh come on, he can’t be that great,” Zach muttered. “He’s probably a huge asshole, and you’re in deep denial.”

“He is kinda. But not . . .not because he wants to be.” Hayes hated how earnest he sounded as he defended Morgan. “He’s just got a lot of pressure, you know? Pressure I understand.”

“Yeah. We know. First overalls.” Zach didn’t even sound bitter about it, just matter-of-fact.

“Yeah,” Hayes agreed.

“Somehow you’re not an asshole, though,” Zach pointed out.

Hayes thought about what Morgan had said earlier. You’ll get it in ten fucking years. Maybe twelve, if you’re really lucky .

“Maybe not now, but who knows what I’m gonna be like when I’m at the end of my career and everyone’s parsing what it means, where I fall. If I only met everyone’s expectations, didn’t even exceed them.”

Zach sighed heavily. “I’m not sure whether you spending this much time with Morgan Reynolds was a good or a bad thing, honestly.”

He had to tell him. Hayes hated it, but he had to tell him.

“Well, about that . . .” Hayes dangled the sentence.

Zach was not stupid. It didn’t take him that long. Or very long at all. He inhaled sharply. “No. No. You and Reynolds?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Any other guy, even another player, Hayes would’ve given all the details. Given Zach the whole picture. He knew why he was holding back, but Zach was discreet; he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Still, Hayes found himself clamming up. “We’ve just been spending a lot of time together and one thing led to another . . .you know how it goes.”

Zach laughed incredulously. “No. No. I do not know how it goes. This is Morgan Reynolds. You don’t just fall into bed with him like some regular ass hookup.”

“Why not?” But Hayes knew why not. Knew why it was dangerous. Knew it was the same reason he hadn’t told Zach before tonight. It was the same reason he hadn’t checked his texts. He wanted Morgan to have asked him what he was doing tonight—and he didn’t want Morgan to be asking, either.

“Dude, you have been obsessed about him forever ,” Zach said bluntly.

“Not obsessed ,” Hayes argued.

“A little,” Zach insisted. “And now what, you’re gonna hook up with him for a week and play with him for a week, the guy you’ve always worshipped, the one you’ve looked up to, the one who’s just like you, and you think you’re going to go back to your regular life, no big deal?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Hayes said.

“Because I’d tell you the truth?” Zach scoffed. Then his voice softened. “Monty, the chances this is going to fuck you up—”

“I know,” Hayes said calmly. He knew it. And if Morgan texted him, wondering if he was up for whatever euphemism Morgan wanted to use for sex, he was going to say yes.

Would Morgan be a “u up?” kind of guy? Couch it in a nice friendly, “you wanna hang out?” sort of way? Like they were theoretically gonna play cards or watch a bad movie on TV but realistically, they were going to make out.

Hayes didn’t know, but he was pretty sure he was going to find out.

“What the fuck,” Zach said, full of disbelief. He didn’t sound angry, just dubious.

“I can’t . . .I want him,” Hayes finally said, because that was all there was to say.

He did want Morgan.

He’d wanted him before, but it was nothing like how he wanted him now, now that he knew how it felt to have him.

Morgan’s eyes on him. Morgan’s attention zeroed in. Morgan’s hands touching him. Morgan’s body pressed against his body.

“Okay,” Zach said. “Have you talked about this?”

Had they? It felt like they’d said everything and nothing to each other.

“About what?”

“About what you’re doing ?” Zach exhaled in frustration.

“Not really. And that’s okay—I get it.”

Zach didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Hayes knew he was being stupid but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear his best friend say it out loud.

“Well, you seem sure about this,” Zach finally said, cautious in a way he almost never was. At least never with Hayes.

“Yeah, I am,” Hayes said.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure of anything. Not Morgan. Not himself, even.

Half the time, he was wondering what the fuck he was doing—just like Zachy had—and then the other half, when Morgan finally turned his gaze on him, it felt like the most real, the most natural thing in the whole fucking world.

They wanted each other; resisting the inevitable would’ve been either insane or impossible.

“If you’re sure,” Zach said again.

“Zachy,” Hayes warned.

A knock sounded on his door.

“Hey,” he said, before Zach could even protest, “I gotta go. Dinner’s here.”

They said goodbye, Zach sounding like he wanted to say more but holding back, and then Hayes dealt with room service.

He ate, flopping back on the bed. Knowing he should check his phone, but still afraid of what he might find.

He could’ve told Zach all this, but what would be the point?

It would just worry Zach, who was supposed to be on vacation in Cabo, ordering pina coladas and not angsting about what Hayes was up to.

And it would just worry himself , who had two games in four days, almost definitely both against Canada, who’d assembled one of the best lineups of hockey talent in the world for this tournament.

If the US had any chance of beating them, not just once, but twice, Hayes was going to have to be dialed in. They all were.

That meant he couldn’t rock the boat right now. Just keep going along with what was happening and enjoy it while it was.

He lasted only halfway through an episode of Love is Blind before he gave in and grabbed his phone again.

Sure enough, buried under about a hundred texts in the US team’s group chat, were two from Morgan to just him.

Hey, the first one read, you around?

Turned out that Morgan was a “u up?” kind of guy. Hayes wasn’t all that surprised.

Then a few minutes later, a second one came in. Went to dinner with the guys but I’ll be back about eight, if you want to hang out.

Turned out he was also the “hang out” guy.

It was fifteen minutes after eight, and he was just debating what to say. It wasn’t a question of whether he was going to ask Morgan to come over—more like how he should ask him to come over. But before he could, Morgan sent a third text.

Is it embarrassing to text you a third time? Probably. But I’m doing it anyway.

Hayes fucking melted.

Yeah, a little, he texted back, not thinking anymore. Couldn’t think anymore. But yeah, come over.

It was only two minutes—maybe even less—after he’d sent the text before there was a knock on the door.

When Hayes opened it, Morgan looked almost sheepish.

“Sorry if I was harassing you,” Morgan said, following Hayes awkwardly into the room. Hayes sat on the edge of his bed. Morgan didn’t join him though. Just stood in the middle of the room, looking five seconds away from wringing his hands.

“You weren’t. I was asleep and then I was talking to Zach,” Hayes said. He nearly added, why don’t you get over here? We both want you to. But he didn’t, because it looked like Morgan wanted to say something, and maybe he should let him get it out.

“I . . .we said we were doing this,” Morgan said, even though they most definitely had. Hayes nodded. “And I just . . .”

Hayes didn’t know where the fuck Morgan was going with this. But he was clearly into it and was here because he wanted to hook up. Because he wanted Hayes as badly as Hayes wanted him.

Why were they talking when they could be kissing and touching and so much more?

“It’s okay,” Hayes said and patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come here.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but he came, no hesitation whatsoever, settling next to Hayes, thighs and shoulders brushing.

Reaching up, Hayes cupped his cheek. Felt that scruff against his hand and felt his whole body roll over and straight-up fucking yowl at how much he wanted.

“I want you,” Hayes said bluntly. “You’re not bothering me if you want me back.”

This time Hayes didn’t know who kissed who first. It felt like they met in the middle, two people becoming one so quickly he immediately lost where he left off and Morgan began.

Morgan moaned into his mouth, fingertips digging into his shoulders, and it was so easy—way too fucking easy—to just let the drugging perfection of it carry him away.