Page 50 of Breakaway Goals

Hayes wasn’t all that surprised that during warmups against the Bandits, Matt Daniels skated over, just crossing the blue line to nudge up right next to him.

“Hey, Monty,” Danny said. “How’s it hanging?”

“Danny,” Hayes said, nodding at his ex-teammate. “Going pretty good. Better than you, at any rate.”

Danny grimaced. “Better not let Mo hear you say that. I know he’s wearing a Sentinels jersey these days, but he’ll always be a Bandit at heart.”

“Oh he knows,” Hayes said lightly, smiling probably a hair too brightly to be playing it cool, but it was unclear if he was supposed to.

He’d heard, through the rumor mill and from Danny himself, twice a year, that he and Morgan had stayed in contact.

It was highly possible that Danny knew everything that had gone down in the last week.

But he and Morgan hadn’t discussed who exactly they were telling. Obviously the top of the list had to be Finn—and not just because he was Morgan’s son, but because Hayes was his captain, and he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize this team.

“He told you?” Danny looked astonished, which for such a chaos gremlin was saying something.

Okay, so Danny didn’t know. That was interesting, though not very surprising, because Morgan had told him that he was going out with Danny tonight after the game to “catch up.” Maybe he was waiting to tell Danny until then.

“We do speak,” Hayes teased, unable to help himself. And he was rewarded when Danny’s jaw literally dropped open.

“Seriously?”

Hayes just shrugged, gaze back to his side of the ice, scanning the group as they finished their warmups. “He is around a lot.”

“Yeah, but I thought you two were in the middle of the world’s coldest war,” Danny spluttered.

Hayes shot him an amused look. “Couldn’t stay ice-cold forever,” he said, skating off before Danny could demand to know exactly what that meant.

Finn was in goal tonight, and that meant that Morgan was up in his usual suite, Jacob next to him. Hayes couldn’t see him, but he knew they were there. Knew Morgan was there, his gaze prickling on his shoulder blades as he took the first faceoff.

The Bandits were not very good this year, but they always fought hard, regardless, and Hayes had no intention of resting back.

They had a win streak on the line, and that mattered the most, of course, but there was also his own personal stats, which Barty kept telling him would change the Sentinels’ minds about the contract.

Lars, his right wing, had gotten the puck, and they pushed into the Bandits’ side of the ice, Lars passing the puck to Hayes, who took it behind the goal. Danny’s hit was mis-timed though, and he took off, unscathed, looking for a shooting lane.

He passed it back to Curtis, one of their starting defensemen, and skated up closer to the net, brain alert as it scrolled through what he knew about the Bandits’ goalie. He was good low, but shit high. Middling on the rebound.

Lars knew it too, because he slid over, closer to the other side, obviously getting ready to slide the puck behind the goalie’s backside if he got a chance at the rebound.

A second later, the play materialized.

Curtis passed back to Hayes, who took the shot, knowing it was probably going to bounce off his kneepad, and sure enough, it did.

The puck hit Lars’ tape and then it was in the net.

Hayes hit Lars’ side, patting him on the helmet with a glove as they celebrated the goal.

Swore he still felt Morgan’s gaze burning into him even after he was off the ice, sliding down the bench.

Wouldn’t even be surprised if when he got to the locker room during the first intermission and looked at his phone, Morgan would’ve been unable to resist sending a text about that play.

It was the kind of classic misdirection that Morgan loved more than anything else, the sort of move he’d made his bread and butter as he’d gotten older and wasn’t the fastest or the strongest guy out there any longer.

But he’d always been the smartest, and his brain had only gotten sharper as he’d grown older.

Hayes hoped that he could do the same. Hoped that the Sentinels could see it, too.

At thirty-one, he didn’t want to start over. He wanted to stay with this team and continue building.

Hayes pushed the thought away and re-focused on the game. What mattered was this team and what Hayes could do for them right now.

Not in a year. Not in two years or four or five from now.

“Sick fucking play,” Morgan enthused. He was probably not being very subtle, but he had a feeling it was only a matter of time—probably not weeks, but days— before Hayes sat him down and told him that Finn, and by extension, Jacob, needed to know about them.

Jacob looked over at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. “It sure was. Reminds me of someone—”

“Me,” Morgan crowed, “totally me. That was a classic Morgan Reynolds play.”

“And you wonder why people say you’re insufferable.”

“I think I even got that one by you a few times,” Morgan said, even though if he’d managed it once, he’d have been shocked.

“You really think that?” Jacob asked, leaning his elbows against the front wall of the suite.

“Well, maybe once,” Morgan blustered.

“I’d never fall for that,” Jacob said. “You see the way Monty angled the puck when he shot it? If the goalie was paying attention, he’d have seen that Monty was practically aiming for the pad. Not to score, but for Lars to get the rebound.”

“Still a great play,” Morgan grumbled.

“Finn and I should work on that this week,” Jacob mused. He turned to Morgan. “You meeting up with Danny after the game?”

Morgan nodded. Over the last few days, he’d gone back and forth on what he was going to say to his friend, but if he was being really honest with himself, there was no way he was going to hang out with Danny tonight and not tell him what was going on with Hayes.

“You mind me tagging along?” Jacob asked. “Finn and the team are flying out to Raleigh tonight, right after the game.”

Morgan knew that, because Hayes had told him, but he couldn’t tell Braun that.

He also really wanted to tell Braun hell no, and that he could fuck off. Eighteen months ago, he could’ve. But that had all changed after Finn and Jacob had gotten together. And since he and Morgan had buried the hatchet.

It was a perfectly normal request, but if Jacob came, then Morgan couldn’t tell Danny about what was going on with Hayes.

“Uh,” Morgan hesitated.

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Morgan said, because he clearly didn’t have another choice. Maybe he could corner Danny when Jacob was at the bar or in the bathroom and tell him the truth.

Honestly, he wasn’t even against Jacob knowing about him and Hayes, but he couldn’t tell Jacob before Finn. Morgan would be the first to say he was an idiot, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Awesome,” Jacob said, tapping Morgan’s hand with his fist. “I like Danny. He’s fun.”

“And here I thought you didn’t know the definition of that word,” Morgan grumbled.

Jacob shot him a look. “You really want to know about what I do for fun?”

“No, no ,” Morgan spluttered. “How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that I am off-limits when it comes to you and Finn?”

“Just checking,” Jacob joked.

“God, you’re the worst.” Morgan couldn’t say he wasn’t a little worried about Braun finding out about him and Hayes—he’d given Jacob kind of a lot of crap when he’d gotten together with Finn.

And if there was one thing he knew about Jacob, it was that he could take it, but he could also dish it right back.

“Where are we going? Don’t tell me you were gonna take Danny to that bar by your house.”

Morgan made a face. “What’s wrong with that place?”

“It’s a shithole.”

“Yeah, exactly. Why I like it.”

What he actually liked was that he didn’t get bothered there. That nobody cared that he was Morgan Reynolds.

“If you insist,” Jacob said, shrugging.

Of course, when they were at the bar, two hours later, and Danny shot him a look full of semi-outraged disbelief, Jacob didn’t bother holding back.

“It’s Mo’s favorite,” Jacob said.

“You’ve really changed,” Danny said.

Morgan made a face. He’d expected Danny, at least, to understand. He wasn’t going out for status or to be seen. That had changed when he’d retired. Now he just wanted to slide under everyone’s radar.

Hayes had said it best. Sometimes Morgan just wanted to take all this shit he was carrying around and put it down .

It was easier said than done, but coming to this shitty, hole-in-the-wall bar, with its sticky tables, floor littered with peanut shells, and completely disinterested clientele was one of the best ways.

“You bring Hayes here?” Danny asked under his breath when Jacob leaned over the bar and grabbed the bartender’s disinterested attention.

“Uh, no.”

“Oh, right why would you? He hates your guts now.” Danny shot him a knowing look.

Jacob turned back to them with three bottles in his hand. “We’re all set,” he said, distributing the beers. “Who hates Mo?”

“Nobody,” Morgan said quickly. “And everyone, honestly.”

Danny laughed as they made their way to a booth in the back of the bar.

“I was just wondering who Mo’s brought here from the team.”

“Finn came here once and then refused to come back. Said he’d rather not get rabies,” Jacob said chuckling.

“Definitely not Hayes then. He’s got taste.” Danny eyed Morgan again, like he was mentally finishing that sentence with God only knows what he was doing with you.

“Right,” Morgan said weakly. Trying desperately to come up with a reason to get Danny alone so he could 1) remind him that Hayes was off-limits as a conversational topic and 2) explain exactly why that still was.

Sipping his beer, Jacob leaned back in his chair. “Hayes isn’t all that snooty, though. He’s a great guy. Real chill, honestly, but a leader. Finn likes him a lot.”

Danny waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Morgan wanted to murder him. “You worried about Finn liking him too much, Braun?”