Page 46 of Breakaway Goals

When Hayes woke up, he ached. The general all-over ache of playing a hockey game the day before sure, but two specific aches.

First off, his ass. He could tell he’d had sex last night, and that it had been awhile.

And then there was his shoulder, where Morgan had straight-up bitten him.

God, Morgan.

Claimed him mind, body, and fucking soul.

Hayes lay there, very still, for a moment. Not wanting to roll over, worried that if he did, that space next to him in the bed might be empty.

He knew last night had happened. There was no way he could’ve even dreamt up how it felt, or how he still felt from it. A little bit like he’d been hit by a truck, physically and emotionally.

It had most definitely happened. There was no taking it back now, even if Hayes regretted it. Which he didn’t.

It wasn’t regret. Even if he turned over and where Morgan had slept was empty now, Hayes wouldn’t call that feeling regret. Morgan had too obviously meant everything he’d said. He’d promised he wanted to make this work, and Hayes believed that he meant it.

It was exhilarating, and he hadn’t been happier in a very long time. But it was also fucking scary and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been more terrified.

He’d never had Morgan before. He’d lost him, before he’d ever gotten a chance to enjoy what that meant, how that felt , and it had fucked him up for six years.

How much would it fuck him up now if they couldn’t make this work?

Morgan had seemed very sure. Almost flippant about it. But Hayes didn’t think he could be.

Took a deep breath, then another, and slowly turned over.

Morgan wasn’t lying there, but when Hayes put a hand out, the sheets were still warm.

A moment later, Morgan appeared in the doorway, just his shorts on, and he had two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, holding out a cup for Hayes. “I took a guess that you drink it the same as you did six years ago. Still had half and half in your fridge anyway.”

Hayes took the cup with hands that almost didn’t shake. ‘Thanks. Yeah . . .uh the same. For sure.”

Morgan bringing him coffee in bed. Wearing only shorts, chest bare, hair messed up from Hayes’ hands. He was never going to be able to go back from this. He should be fucking terrified. It was so much reward, the most unbelievable upside of all time. But the risk . . .

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Morgan asked bluntly. He didn’t get into the bed, but he settled a hip on the edge. Close but not too close. Like Hayes was a horse he didn’t want to spook.

“No.” But if Hayes lied, if he wasn’t honest, if they both weren’t honest, how would this ever work out? There was a narrow window here, a path through a whole maze of defenders stacked up between Hayes and the net, and if he was very good—no, if he was the best— he could score the goal.

Win the guy.

Maybe even be happy like this for the rest of his life.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he corrected, trying not to grimace. “It’s . . .it’s a lot. A good lot, but I still don’t know how this all works. It was . . .well, it was really easy in Toronto—”

“So easy,” Morgan agreed.

That almost stopped Hayes in his tracks, because he hadn’t expected Morgan to be on the same page. But it was stupid to think that, because yes, back then, all the way up until the moment Morgan had ghosted him, they’d felt so in sync.

“And then nothing was easy,” Hayes said.

“Not even hard, just impossible. I love you . . .” God, he hadn’t mean to say that again, so quickly, even if it was true.

He’d meant to be a bit more circumspect, at least. You didn’t start a relationship by declaring your undying love.

But here Hayes was, launching himself right into the sun.

“I love you,” he repeated, because he’d committed now.

“But we’ve never really been together. Not in any way that matters. ”

“You’re still stuck on that.” Morgan sounded indulgently sweet, and Hayes made a face.

“Don’t be an asshole,” he complained. “I mean it.”

“We’re gonna figure it out.”

Hayes shot him a hot look. “You say that but what does that even mean ? That’s so freaking nebulous. Easy to say we’ll ‘figure it out’ when we just don’t.”

Morgan didn’t look so casual now. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what, you’ll show up here after a game and we’ll fuck? Like last night?”

“No,” Morgan said steadily. He didn’t look upset, but he was clearly serious. “Drink your coffee. You’re grumpy and freaking out. That’s not what we’re doing, and it’s especially not what we’re doing if you think that’s what I’m here for.”

Hayes took a sip of coffee. Annoyed, in spite of himself, that it was perfect.

Exactly as he’d taken it six years ago and still how he liked it now.

That fact shouldn’t have calmed him down, but it did.

And Morgan must have known it would mean—would do— something, because the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“What do you mean it’s not what we’re doing?”

“If you think I’m just going to fuck you and jet, we’ll skip that part.”

Hayes’ jaw dropped. “You want to skip having sex?”

“Angel,” Morgan said earnestly, and that should not have been so hot, but it was.

So fucking hot. Normally, Hayes hated pet names.

Once Alexander had called him honey and he’d iced him out for a full twenty-four hours.

“I don’t want to. But if it’s the only way to prove to you that I’m serious, that we’re going to build something together, then sure.

I can live without sex.” Morgan’s earnestness melted into smugness.

Because of course it did. “I know you can too.”

Yes, stupidly Hayes had told him just last night that it had been awhile since he’d had sex. Maybe not Morgan’s year, but close to that long.

“Fine, okay. We can do that.” Hayes gave Morgan a ten percent chance of actually pulling off abstinence.

“And,” Morgan said, “I fell asleep before I could ask you what you were doing tomorrow night.”

“Not tonight?” Hayes asked archly.

“I have a work thing tonight. Or else you know I’d be yours.

” Morgan was not a charming person, normally.

He’d not been particularly charming in Toronto either.

Definitely not any other time they’d met since then.

But the earnest honesty he was bringing to this conversation was charming Hayes even when he didn’t particularly want to be charmed.

“I don’t know that, actually.” Hayes was not this easy. He was not .

Morgan grinned. Didn’t even look like Hayes had hurt his feelings. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t,” Hayes insisted.

“Okay, well, that’s the first order of business then.” Morgan set down his coffee on the table next to the bed and leaned in. Didn’t kiss Hayes but the look on his face was as good as one. Hayes felt it all the way down to his toes. “Proving to you that I’m yours.”

Hayes shouldn’t be melting right back into the sheets.

But when Morgan crowded him into them, he couldn’t help it.

And when Morgan rolled over ten minutes later, both of them breathing hard, Hayes couldn’t help it, again. “Are you joking?” he whined.

“Hey, you said you thought I was just going to hit it and quit it.” Morgan smiled, but it was more half a grimace.

Hayes faced him, amused, despite some epic blue balls. And from only ten minutes of making out! “I don’t think anyone says that anymore,” he teased.

“Well, I wasn’t going to be doing it,” Morgan grumbled. Looked over at Hayes and then made a groaning sound in the back of his throat. “Can you stop being so . . .so . . .”

“So?” Hayes questioned. The only positive of this sex-less path was how much Morgan seemed to regret suggesting it in the first place.

“So . . .” Morgan waved a hand, encompassing Hayes’ entire self. “So completely, totally irresistible. Good at kissing. Good at hockey. Good at just lying there.”

“Nope,” Hayes said, but he felt good. Yes, the fear was still there.

It was going to take more than two rounds of exemplary, life-altering sex, some love confessions, and Morgan’s earnestness to banish it completely.

But he could imagine that someday, he’d look over at Morgan and Morgan would look back, and he’d be sure .

Sure beyond any reasonable doubt.

“You don’t have to sound so delighted about it,” Morgan claimed.

“Actually, I do. Feels good. Seems good. What isn’t there to be delighted about?” Hayes could think of one thing, but he wasn’t going to say it.

He shouldn’t have worried; Morgan said it, anyway. “Could be a little less delighted I’m not gonna stick my dick in you,” he said gruffly.

“I’ll cry about it in the shower,” Hayes promised. Sliding out of bed. He grabbed his coffee, then pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek. “And the answer is that no, I don’t have any plans tomorrow night. I’m all yours.”

Half an hour later, Morgan was gone after giving him one last, long, entirely perfect kiss, and he was showered, scrambling eggs in a pan on the stove while he debated whether Zach would be awake yet.

Decided this was momentous enough that Zach could deal with an early wake-up call.

He’d just finished pouring himself a second cup of coffee, humming under his breath, when he dialed Zach.

It rang once, twice, then three times. It was just after six a.m. west coast time, in Portland, where Zach coached now with his boyfriend and head coach of the Portland U Evergreens, Gavin Blackburn.

“What,” Zach answered flatly, sounding three-quarters asleep still. “You okay, Monty?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Hayes trilled.

“You sound way too happy for it to be—” Zach paused, mumbling to someone next to him. Gavin, definitely. “Six fucking a.m.”

“Don’t you have early class today?” Zach was still working on his master’s.

“No,” Zach said petulantly. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you just going to act annoyingly awake and mysterious?”