Page 30 of Breakaway Goals

Hayes was doing his captainly duty, rotating himself through the various knots of players and their partners, which meant that at some point, the chances of him stopping by their open booth to personally congratulate Finn was high.

“You’re being weird, even for you,” Jacob said, nudging Morgan.

What he was doing was tracking Hayes like he was a starving hunter and Hayes was a particularly tasty morsel of an apex predator.

Not because he wanted him. Nope. No way. Morgan just wanted to avoid him.

Danny would have told him he was being stupid, and that was probably true, but it was easier to be stupid than to look right at Hayes and try to figure out, six years after everything had gone to shit, what the fuck he should say to him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Morgan said, ignoring Jacob’s comment and instead eyeing how Hayes had now arrived at the next booth.

He could slip out, take a piss, grab another beer at the bar, and by the time he was done, Hayes would have done his duty and left.

It all worked perfectly, until he was washing his hands at the sink, staring at his reflection, at the way his hair had gotten a little long, curling over his ears, and the wrinkles he was trying to pretend didn’t exist, when the door opened.

Everything inside Morgan froze.

Hayes met his eyes in the mirror.

It had been six long years, but he didn’t look older. Hair perfect. Face perfect. Green eyes widening as he stared at Morgan.

Fuck my life.

Hayes swallowed once and then twice. Wondered wildly how he could have made such a stupid mistake when he’d been so careful all night.

He’d been tracking Morgan as he’d made his way around the bar, sharing drinks with his teammates and congratulating them on a great game, timing his arrival at the table where he’d been sitting with Finn and Jacob exactly when Morgan slid out, holding his empty glass like he needed a refill.

But no. He hadn’t headed to the bar for a fresh beer.

He’d come to the bathroom, and so had Hayes.

You knew this was going to happen eventually.

Hayes just hadn’t been ready for it. Maybe it was delusional to think he would have ever been ready.

His heart ached, a steady, pervasive hurt that never seemed to go away, no matter what.

He’d told Zach last summer he was working on moving on, not using someone else as a distraction or to make it easier, but instead focusing on learning how to be happy just being Hayes Montgomery.

Annoyingly, he’d have told anyone who cared to listen that he’d done it. That he was happy just being Hayes.

But now, he wasn’t sure. Not with Morgan’s hazel eyes staring at him, wide and shocked and affected .

The total fucking opposite of the blank-eyed stare Hayes had gotten every time they’d played each other after.

This time Morgan’s stare wasn’t sliding over him like he didn’t even recognize him. The opposite, in fact.

Hayes cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Morgan blinked hard, like he was astonished Hayes had said anything to him. “Uh. Hey.”

Hayes gave himself a brief pep talk consisting of you can do this and you have to fucking do this .

“Finn had a great game.”

“Yeah.” Morgan didn’t seem capable of more than single words, which . . .Hayes got that, a little too well. But then he’d also seemed perfectly fine leaving the morning after and ghosting Hayes and then barely eking out an apology before disappearing again for the next six fucking years.

So maybe single words were all he was capable of, when it came to Hayes. Like that other Morgan, the one who’d opened up to Hayes, like deep down, they were made from the exact same material, had been the mirage.

Hayes steeled himself. Decided that he didn’t care if he was an asshole, because Morgan was a self-professed asshole and he’d been the asshole first.

“You’re not going to hang around Finn all the time, are you?”

Morgan had the nerve to look both worried and guilty. Picking at Hayes’ heartstrings like it was his new fucking job.

“No,” Morgan said.

“He’s gonna be a great goalie. Deserves more light than your shadow provides.”

Morgan opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, knuckles going white.

“Just saying,” Hayes said, shrugging. “I’m his captain now. I gotta look out for him.”

“I didn’t expect that you wearing the C would also turn you into a dick,” Morgan drawled. And okay, turned out he was capable of more than one word answers.

Hayes regretted even engaging. He should have left it alone. Left Morgan alone. Should have left it at Hey.

Shouldn’t have gone out of his way to have a four point night, too. He’d told himself it was for the Sentinels, but was it really? He’d known Morgan was out there, watching, and as much as he hated to admit it, maybe that had driven him harder than normal.

“Watching out for Finn isn’t being a dick,” Hayes said, far too aware how bitchy he sounded now. Zach had always told him he shouldn’t end up a bitchy, bitter gay, but if he had, could anyone blame him?

“Well, tell him that, then, cause I’m only here because he asked me to be.” Morgan let go of the sink and took a step closer. Hayes told himself to move back, too, but his limbs suddenly didn’t seem to work. “What the fuck, Monty? You’re really not like this.”

“You don’t know what I’m like anymore,” Hayes argued. You haven’t been around to see what the C did to me.

Actually, he thought it had grounded him and turned him into a better, more generous player. No way it wasn’t a good thing, a great thing. It hadn’t turned him into a dick.

That had been Morgan.

But if he said that, Morgan would know how much he’d hurt him, how much he was still hurting him, and that was intolerable.

Morgan took a deep breath and actually had the nerve to look vaguely upset that he hadn’t been around. When he’d been the one to leave in Toronto! To ghost Hayes .

“No,” he said, softly. “I don’t know what you’re like anymore.”

“And let’s keep it that way,” Hayes said brusquely.

He walked over to the urinal. Had a momentary loss of feeling in his toes as he unzipped and pulled his dick out.

He’d really had to pee before this moment, but now he was suddenly terrified that he’d freeze up, just because Morgan was staring at him.

Morgan waited silently until he was done, moving to the side, next to the sink, so Hayes could wash his hands without being in any danger of them touching.

For a single hysterical moment, Hayes considered not just mentioning this out loud, but thanking Morgan . Luckily, he came to his senses before he actually said it out loud.

He shook the water off his hands, turned to look for the paper towel dispenser, but of course Morgan was between him and it.

Morgan still didn’t say anything, just grabbed one and held it out for Hayes to take.

“You’re my son’s captain,” Morgan said quietly. “You can hate me. But don’t punish him for the crime of having the wrong last name, okay?”

“I don’t—I wouldn’t—” Hayes broke off abruptly as he snatched the paper towel and dried his hands. Compressed it into a tight ball in his palm.

“No, of course you wouldn’t. You’d never do that.

” Morgan sighed, his gaze sliding away from him again.

Not the same cold, calculated disassociation as during all those faceoffs post-fling, but different .

Hayes wanted to believe it was because looking right at him sucked too much.

Reminded him of too many things he wanted to forget, just like Hayes.

But there was no evidence whatsoever, except this single moment, that Morgan had spent the last six years thinking about him and regretting, just like Hayes, how it had ended between them.

“I wouldn’t,” Hayes repeated. Didn’t promise, but hoped that Morgan could hear the vow in his voice. “I like Finn a lot. He’s a great guy and a great hockey player.”

“I’d say thank you, but not sure I had much to do with either of those,” Morgan said.

This was so ridiculous, Hayes could only stare at him in utter disbelief. “You? Being modest? What the fuck, Mo?”

Morgan chuckled. “Can’t say I didn’t try to fuck it up, like everything else. But I’m trying.” His eyes met Hayes’ and for a solid moment, Hayes was sure he was going to say something else. Like, tell me it’s not too late to try with you, too.

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. They weren’t practicing that kind of idiocy still. At least Hayes wasn’t.

“All we can do,” Hayes said, trying for a light, casual tone, and he wasn’t surprised he failed utterly at it, because one thing they had never been was light or casual.

Morgan nodded once. “See you around,” he said, and then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Hayes let out a shaky breath and leaned against the sink, trying to steady his suddenly wobbly knees.

He’d tried for so long and so hard to exorcise him, to forcibly remove Morgan from his brain and his heart, but the truth was, there was no getting rid of him. Morgan was a fact of his life, same as being drafted first overall.

Once, he’d told Morgan he thought he’d be able to put that baggage down, someday. But now, a few years further down the road, he was beginning to see why Morgan had thought that was impossible.