Page 21 of Breakaway Goals

Danny came up to Hayes after morning skate and leaned over him. “Hey,” he said, “how are you doin’, kid?”

Hayes shot him a look. “First off, we’re the same age and second off, what did you do now?”

“Who said I did anything?” Danny asked, with exaggerated innocence.

Hayes rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar. And not subtle, either.”

“Okay,” Danny said, “fair. I wanted to know what you thought of some of these quotes going around about you.”

“What quotes?” Once they were confirmed to be in the championship game, Hayes had inevitably had to do media yesterday. Some of the other guys had too. But he hadn’t ended up paired with Morgan again, which he wasn’t sure he was relieved or disappointed about.

“You haven’t heard, then,” Danny said with smug satisfaction and then pulled his phone out of his sweatpants. “Let me tell you what our illustrious captain is saying about you these days.”

“Danny,” Hayes warned him.

“No, no, it’s good. And you should hear this.”

“I specifically go out of my way not to read the press shit. Especially when it’s about me,” Hayes said. Even though if he knew Morgan was saying good stuff about him, he might’ve been very tempted.

But no . Because the something else was already taking up a part of him, growing with very single moment he spent in Morgan’s presence, and he was worried that Zach might’ve been right after all when he wondered if this whole thing was going to fuck Hayes up, in the end.

“You’re gonna want to hear this,” Danny said.

He put a hand on his hip and affected what he probably thought was a Morgan-like tone.

Hayes didn’t tell him it was a terrible impression, but he could have.

“Monty’s a vital part of this team. Maybe the most important piece we have.

Blah blah something else about the goal you scored against Canada and then someone asked if that could really be true if Morgan’s the first line center and he said, and I fucking quote, Monty, I’m only here to make him look as good as he really is.

He fucking said that. About you. To the media. Unprompted. ”

“Danny,” Hayes said weakly, “I don’t understand the point of this.”

“Do you really not get it or are you in some serious denial?”

Serious denial. Digging my way in deeper every single day .

Hayes just shrugged. “It’s . . .it’s an honor to play with him too.”

“The way Morgan’s talking, it’s more than just an honor to play with you . And you know, you have to know, he didn’t like talking about you before this. Kinda went out of his way to avoid talking about you.”

“I know,” Hayes said. And he’d known why, objectively. Understood, even though it had sort of stung, deep down. He’d gotten it, and he’d gotten it even more when Morgan had admitted that Hayes made him feel old. Washed-up. Like his career was essentially over.

“I’m just saying, what are you two doing?” Danny questioned. “If you don’t come out of this like . . .super committed, what are you doing ?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Hayes said bluntly. “He lives in New York. I live in California. It’s not . . .it’s just not happening. It’s been fun, it’s been—”

“Bullshit,” Danny said bluntly. “I see the way you two look at each other. I’m your fucking line mate. I have to see it. I can’t avoid seeing it.”

“It is what it is,” Hayes said.

“And so what, Morgan extolling your praises before the game tonight is, what, just him being nice? Him having fun? You have met Morgan Reynolds, haven’t you?”

Hayes leaned over and picked up his bag. He didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for this conversation. It was hard enough keeping things light and uncomplicated around Morgan when his feelings felt increasingly involved without having to answer Danny’s pointed questions.

“Yeah, I have. But we’ve got a game to play, Danny. You know that.”

Danny shot him an incredulous look, but couldn’t really argue with him, because it was true.

Right now, they had to head back to the hotel, take their nap, eat dinner, and then get ready for the championship game.

Tomorrow afternoon, he’d be flying back to California, and this whole insane interlude would—probably—be over.

He and Morgan hadn’t talked about it. They’d specifically not talked about it. Not two nights ago when Morgan had stayed over, and not last night, when Hayes had ended up in Morgan’s bed.

The sex was really good. The conversation was unexpectedly amazing, just talking to someone who got it. Who understood the very specific pressure cooker they both existed inside. But anything else was asking for a miracle that wasn’t happening.

Hayes wasn’t stupid enough to wish for it.

“When and if you wanna talk about it,” Danny said as they made their way to the team bus, “you just holler, okay?”

Hayes didn’t imagine he was ever going to want to talk about it. He was going to want to do the opposite, probably. Pretend it had never happened. Move on, somehow, and denial seemed the most likely avenue to make that possible.

There were a handful of texts from Zach on his phone when he woke up from his pregame nap.

I just saw Mo talking you up. Think you’ve made a fan for life, Monty.

Then, Holy shit, he was REALLY talking you up. You recovered yet? You still alive, under all those crushing feelings?

And finally, Good luck in the game today, you’re gonna freaking kill it. And that’s not just the Morgan in me talking, it’s the Zach in me believing it’s true :)

Hayes didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to have even twenty-five percent of this conversation with Danny, nevermind Zach.

Thanks, he finally sent as he headed downstairs, suit on, to have dinner before they headed to the arena.

It was better than him sending nothing, but there was no question it would tip Zach off that he was kind of a mess.

How many years had he wanted an acknowledgment from Morgan of his game and his skill? Too many. And now he’d finally gotten it and it tasted fucking bitter in the back of his throat.

He knew Morgan meant it. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise, but the circumstances were fucking him up.

And like Morgan somehow knew it, he kept his distance during dinner, sitting on the other end, chatting with Bram and the coaching staff.

Hayes sat with Danny, who kept shooting him knowing looks, and Noah and Cal, and shoveled chicken and pasta into his mouth, not tasting a single molecule of it.

Morgan didn’t approach him until they were in the locker room. He’d been making his rounds as everyone warmed up and then geared up, doing his good captain routine, dropping encouraging words and last-minute advice into their teammates’ ears.

Hayes did notice that Morgan saved him for last—or nearly last, because he’d also noticed that during Morgan’s rotation he’d yet to head over to where Jacob sat in his stall, locked-in expression serious.

“Hey,” Morgan said, gazing down at him.

“Hey,” Hayes said, telling himself, be normal, be normal, be normal.

“You good?”

Hayes licked his lips. Dug his fingertips into his hip pad. “Yeah.”

Morgan shot him a bit of a knowing look. “Really? You’ve been quiet.”

And you’ve been hiding from me, from the moment you woke up in my bed this morning and kissed me like you meant it with your whole heart, and I kissed you back because I couldn’t help it.

“Focused,” Hayes corrected.

“Just remember that it’s the three of us out there. We’ve got your back and you’ve got ours. It’s not all on you.”

Hayes nodded.

“And, it’s . . .uh, a sixty-minute game.”

Hayes raised an eyebrow. “Any more captain-ly platitudes you want to say?”

The seriousness in Morgan’s face dissolved. “Fuck, I’m being weird, aren’t I?”

“Has Danny been bothering you, too?”

Maybe it was weird to bring it up, but it felt even weirder to be talking around it.

Morgan let out a little groan, and Hayes flushed before he could force himself not to react. “Yeah, ever since he saw that stuff I said about you.” His voice dropped even further. “I meant it all, you know? I should’ve said it a long time ago—”

“Don’t,” Hayes said, sharper than he’d intended. “I . . .you aren’t obligated to say anything about me. About how I play.”

Hayes hated and loved how earnest Morgan looked. “I meant it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Yeah, Hayes knew. Which was what made it so fucking awful.

“If Danny won’t quit harassing you, just send him my way, okay?” Morgan said.

“He’s not—is he harassing you ?” Hayes asked.

As annoying as Matt Daniels could be, it was obvious he meant well.

“No, no of course not,” Morgan blustered. “He was just giving me shit about that stuff I said yesterday. But it was all true, so I didn’t really mind.”

Hayes wasn’t sure he really believed him, but he wasn’t going to call him out on it. Not now.

They were going to have to talk about this, but it was going to be after the game, no matter how it went.

“Well, if that changes,” Hayes said, giving Morgan the easiest smile he was capable of right now, “you just let me know, and I’ll deal with him.”

Morgan returned an even brighter smile. “Alright.”

“And remember,” Hayes said, reaching out and catching Morgan’s arm before he turned away, “ you’re not alone out there, either.

I know you’ve got the C, and like a whole fucking nation of yee haw Americans relying on you, but you’ve got us—Danny and me.

The whole team, too, but us .” But me, most of all , Hayes wanted to say.

Didn’t quite have the nerve to say it, but he felt it.

Morgan’s expression softened into something tender that made the something else in his chest tighten and expand.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He shot Hayes a smile almost identical to the one he’d worn this morning, right before he’d leaned over and kissed him.

Hayes had to believe that they were going to be okay. That they’d figure this shit out. That this something else inside him would eventually be satisfied and calm the fuck down.