Page 32 of Breakaway Goals

And that was way fucking worse.

“No, he was . . .he wasn’t bad,” Hayes said.

Zach’s frown deepened. “What does that mean?”

“It means, he’s trying to be a good father to Finn and I don’t know . . .generally not an asshole,” Hayes said.

“Did he tell you that?”

“Yeah.” Not in as many words, but it turned out that being fluent in Morgan Reynolds wasn’t something you forgot, even after six years.

“You’re not gonna—” Zach stopped abruptly. “You wouldn’t .”

Hayes knew exactly what his best friend was worried about. That Morgan might express just enough regret that he’d start to look really good again.

But what Zach didn’t know was that he’d never stopped looking good to Hayes.

Not ever. Not even when they’d played each other and Morgan had stared right through him, like he wasn’t even there.

No matter how acute the humiliation was, that he loved this complete asshole and he could still pretend that Hayes didn’t even exist, nobody had ever looked better.

Maybe it was because Hayes knew who Morgan was, deep down, better than anyone else. He’d seen further inside him than anybody Morgan had ever allowed before. Morgan didn’t have to tell him that was true for Hayes to know it was true.

He’d picked hockey over Hayes, and Hayes couldn’t even hate him for that, because if you knew Morgan, nothing about that decision was particularly surprising.

“Am I going to hook up with him again? No. Of course not.” But he’d wondered, after their run-in in the bathroom.

He hadn’t seen Morgan in person since he’d retired, and he’d been .

. .different two nights ago. Retirement, especially when you were as committed to a career as Morgan had been, was bound to change you, but Morgan had seemed fundamentally altered.

Softer and more vulnerable, yes, but it wasn’t like Hayes hadn’t known those parts of Morgan existed.

Six years ago, he’d dug down deep into him then put his hands on them and tested their veracity.

But two nights ago, they’d seemed a lot closer to the surface.

Easy to spot, if you were looking. Hayes was stupid, so of course he was looking.

“Hayes,” Zach warned. “I know you—”

Yeah, they were not going down this path. It was hard enough not thinking of the attractive qualities it might possess without Zach insisting they talk about it. Hayes changed the subject, instead. Sort of, anyway.

“Barty is worried about my contract extension,” Hayes said.

Normally, this would not be a subject change he welcomed, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“What?” Zach sounded shocked. “Why?”

“They low-balled him initially. He says it’s gonna be fine, but if he’s worried, then I’m sort of worried.”

“Shit. Monty. That’s ridiculous. Of course they want to keep you. You’re their captain.”

“Yeah, so was Marchand, and look what the Bruins did to him,” Hayes said.

Zach made a frustrated noise under his breath, and his eyebrows pushed together, eyes narrowing. “And you’re in your fucking prime.”

“Thanks,” Hayes said dryly.

“What’s Barty’s plan? I know him. He’s got one.”

And of course, like everything else, even a subject change circled back to Morgan.

Hayes sighed. “He wants me to convince Morgan as Finn’s dad to talk me up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zach choked out. “You’re not going to let him?”

“No. No . Hell no. Just . . .” Hayes had been sitting out here, watching as the sun skimmed across the sky and eventually dipped past the horizon, thinking of this the whole damn time. “Just, what if he’s right and it would help? I want to stay here, Zachy. What if it helps me do that?”

“And he owes you,” Zach said, more than a little self-righteously.

Hayes didn’t know if he’d go that far. “I guess.”

“You guess? He fucked you up, Monty.”

“We fucked each other up,” Hayes said heavily. That much had been obvious, from the way Morgan had looked up at him in the mirror when he’d opened the bathroom door. “It was probably never going to turn out differently. Even if I hadn’t kicked him out in New York, it was always going to end badly.”

Zach pursed his lips, looking like an overly concerned grandmother, even though he was a year younger than Hayes.

“You should do it, Monty. I bet he’d agree, no question.

I still remember the shit he said to the media about you at Four Nations.

He knows just how good you are. And you’ve only gotten better. ”

“It could turn into a circus, all over again,” Hayes said, still not convinced. He wanted to stay in Tampa, but he didn’t want to do it at this cost.

He’d tried so hard to distance himself from Morgan and Morgan’s legacy, over the years. He didn’t want to erase all that work just because he was desperate and it was Barty’s first idea.

He’d find others. He’d find a way to make it work. He always had, before. It was why he’d never considered switching to a different agent. Barty was the best. There was a reason he had a freaking yacht.

“Just think about it,” Zach said, echoing what Barty had said himself, when they’d said goodbye a few hours earlier.

Hayes wanted to say that he wouldn’t, but he knew himself. He was a self-professed obsesser. There was no way this question wouldn’t linger. That he wouldn’t turn it inside out dozens of times in the safety of his own brain.

“Sure,” Hayes said.

“And maybe they’ll come to their senses without it. I’m sure they will. The Sentinels love you,” Zach said loyally.

Nobody was as loyal as Zach; it was one of the many reasons they were still friends, over ten years after they’d met for the first time.

“This is a business, Zachy,” Hayes reminded him and Zach made a face.

This was why Zach had retired early from the NHL. He hadn’t liked being a thing , a pawn to be moved around on the board as management saw fit.

Hayes couldn’t say he loved it either, but even though he’d been traded across the country once, it had always seemed like a decent tradeoff to play the sport he loved.

The millions of dollars didn’t hurt, either.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Zach said. “I can talk you up, too. I’m not nobody, not anymore.”

Hayes smiled. “You’ve never been nobody.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got a national championship under my belt and it turns out that people take that really fucking seriously.”

Hayes laughed, because of course Zach would just now be realizing this. He could be so jaded and bitter about hockey, but also incredibly naive.

“Imagine that,” Hayes teased.

“I mean it,” Zach insisted. “And I’m sure Gavin would say something too. You know they’re always trying to get him on podcasts and to give quotes.”

“I know,” Hayes said softly. It meant a lot that they both had his back, even though Hayes felt like he’d only ever earned Zach’s loyalty. Gavin’s came because he was in love with Zach and if Zach told him, buckle up, we’re going to space, he’d ask how many nights they should be packing for.

A minute later, Gavin’s head ducked into the frame and Hayes said a quick hello before he let them both go.

His head hit the back of his lounger as he set the phone down next to him.

He’d known, from the moment management told him that Finn would be coming up to the Sentinels from their AHL affiliate, that things were going to get weird.

But he’d never imagined they’d already be at this level of weird.

His phone dinged again then again, and again. Hayes groaned and rolled over, glancing at the screen. The team group chat, quiet for hours because of the off day, had suddenly come to life.

Jasper, one of Hayes’ A’s, and the second line center, was trying to get a group to go out to dinner. Several of the single guys had replied in the affirmative. Including Finn.

Hayes groaned again. He should go. This was part of his responsibility. Not just to keep an eye on things but to make sure the rookies felt included in team activities.

He typed his affirmative and hoped, really fucking hard, that he wasn’t going to regret this.

“I didn’t think you’d come out tonight,” Jasper said as he leaned back in his chair, looking at Hayes with a watchfulness that made him sort of uncomfortable.

Made him wonder if, at any point in the last month, he’d given himself away.

“Why?” It was stupid to ask but Hayes had to know.

“You’ve been quiet this month.” And then Jasper glanced down the table at where Finn was teasing Noah, one of the older vets who’d just had a nasty breakup. “And I’m sure that’s pretty weird for you too.”

Hayes froze. He hadn’t thought anyone knew about him and Morgan—especially Jasper, who hadn’t even been at the tournament six years ago. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“How many times have you been compared to his dad? Hundreds?” Jasper shrugged. “And now he’s here and everyone’s gonna be bringing that shit up again. You don’t need that next one or chosen one shit in your life.”

Jasper was not wrong.

“A lot,” Hayes said wryly.

“And that’s gotta be uncomfortable.”

It was even more uncomfortable than Jasper knew.

“It sucks, sometimes,” Hayes admitted. “But I don’t want to take it out on Finn. Not his fault, you know?”

“No, no,” Jasper said, leaning forward and dropping his voice.

“You don’t. You’re great with him, but then I don’t have to tell you that.

You know how to be a C for this team. But I’m not surprised it’s kind of a burden.

That you’ve got a lot on your mind. All that plus the contract shit and everything. ”

“Barty’s getting the contract done.” It was one thing to tell Zach, who wasn’t even in the NHL anymore, about his contract fears, but he wasn’t going to put Jasper in a difficult position of knowing too much about it.

That was one of the things he’d learned about being the captain in the last few years—he occupied a particular position of leadership, and he couldn’t let even friends like Jasper in too close.