Page 60 of Breakaway Goals

Hayes didn’t watch the segment when it aired. Barty emailed him a YouTube link to it after it went live, adding in, Not that you won’t get a complete rundown from the source .

Technically, Morgan did text him when he was done recording.

It’s done, was all he’d said. He hadn’t needed to go into more detail.

Hayes could imagine what he’d said. Could still feel the phantom flush of being known and seen , from six years ago when Morgan had told the media at Four Nations how incredible he thought Hayes was.

It was too much to think he could duck it forever, because that day at practice, everyone was buzzing about it.

“Hear your man went to bat for you,” Lars said, patting him on the back. “He’s not wrong.”

“Thanks,” Hayes said, trying to ignore that squirmy feeling in the base of his stomach.

“Think he loves you a lot,” Lars added.

“Maybe he just thinks I’m a good hockey player,” Hayes claimed. Even though both of those things were true.

“Listen,” Lars said, ducking his head down. “I love you, man. I think you’re fucking brilliant. And he put me to shame.”

Okay, maybe he was going to have to watch it.

He didn’t have a moment, though, because practice was starting and he thankfully was too distracted for the next two hours to angst about just how effusive Morgan had gotten about him.

Then when practice ended, he had a meeting and then another, and it was nearly dinner time by the time he checked his phone. Surprised, but he supposed he shouldn’t be, by the sheer number of notifications he’d gotten while it had been sitting in his locker.

Barty had called three times and sent him half a dozen texts, most of them a variation of call me now .

Morgan had sent him another text. Glad it helped, was all he said.

Had it helped? What was happening? Hayes plugged in his phone and dialed Barty on his drive home.

“Oh my God, there you are,” Barty said when he answered on the second ring. “ Finally .”

“I had practice and meetings,” Hayes said semi-defensively. “I take it things are going well?”

“Like your boyfriend is causing a sensation? Fuck yeah he is. I’ve got like five standing invites for all the big podcasts, and everyone wants to talk about it.”

“Ugh,” Hayes said.

“What is this ugh ? You should be thrilled. This is majorly softening up the Sentinels’ brass. They already sent me an email, wanting to meet this week again. I’ve had to be the one to push for every single of our meetings in the last month, Monty.”

“They could just tell you to fuck off,” Hayes said, afraid to get his hopes up.

“Are you fucking kidding? They’re not going to do that. They’re not stupid.” Barty paused. “Well, they are pretty stupid, but not that stupid.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hayes said dryly.

“They’re gonna want me to come in with what you really want. So think about that, okay? And between now and then we’re gonna soften them the fuck up.”

“The podcasts?”

“Yeah,” Barty said excitedly. “And so much more, too. Couple other guys picked up the convo, too, after Reynolds started it.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“You’ve got a game tomorrow, right?” Barty asked.

“Yeah. A home game. And then we’re taking a short trip to Nashville.” Hayes drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Why, what’s up?”

“You’re gonna get asked about it when you do media. I want you to be prepared. Watch the segment, I know you didn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Hayes complained.

“Yeah, I do. I know you. You hate it when people say good shit about you, which, for the record, is weird, Monty.”

“It’s not weird.” He also really didn’t want to promise to watch it when he got home, because he knew Morgan would be there, waiting for him. And the only thing that would be worse than watching Morgan praise him would be watching Morgan praise him while he was right there.

“I love you, but it’s totally fucking weird,” Barty said. “Watch it. Be ready for tomorrow, okay? I’m going to send you the talking points.”

“I know what the talking points are,” Hayes protested.

“You think you know,” Barty said, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, fine.” He could hide in the bathroom or something and watch the video, volume cranked down with the subtitles on. He pulled into his driveway. “I gotta go.”

Barty sighed. “Say hi to Morgan for me.”

“How do you know—”

“You’re joking, right?” Barty interrupted with a bark of laughter. “Seriously, though, thank him for me. I’m gonna send him a huge fruit basket. Or maybe some wine. Oh—that new bourbon I tried—”

“Goodbye, Barty,” Hayes interrupted, before he could start laughing.

Sure enough, Morgan was on his couch when he walked in, a Predators-Hurricanes game on the TV.

“You scouting for me now?” Hayes asked, leaning in and resting his chin on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Jacob and I are arguing about Forsberg,” Morgan said distractedly as the player in question went over the boards for a line change.

“Yeah?”

Morgan made a frustrated noise. Debating Forsberg and how his and Jacob’s opinions on the guy differed was vastly preferable to discussing the segment that had aired this morning.

“You know Jacob does unofficial scouting for Finn.”

“I didn’t know but it makes sense,” Hayes said. Morgan hadn’t been doing that for Hayes, yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time.

“Anyway, he mentioned one of Forsberg’s moves and I’m trying to prove him wrong.” Morgan sounded very proud of this.

“I’m gonna leave you to it and take a shower,” Hayes said. It would be fun to sit here and listen to Morgan get annoyed about Jacob’s take on Forsberg, but he could also use the distraction to watch the segment in peace in the bathroom.

Morgan barely glanced back, nodding absently.

He flipped the shower on—he’d actually showered at the rink after practice, but Morgan didn’t know that. He could take another quick one, before they went to dinner.

Pulling his phone out, he clicked the volume way down until he could probably hear it but it was doubtful Morgan could. Not with the shower on and from the living room.

The video started playing, Hayes recognizing the setup from Morgan’s living room at the rental house. Morgan did several different segments regularly on ESPN but this was the show he did every week with a couple of other retired players. It was billed as a series of hot takes.

“I’ve got a real good one for you today,” Morgan said, looking laid-back and relaxed if you weren’t looking closely, but Hayes was always looking closely and he could see the excitement brewing in his hazel eyes.

“The question I keep asking myself, over and over, is why the Sentinels are hesitating to give Montgomery the contract he wants.”

“You’re always so high on him,” Anderson, one of the other commentators, complained. It almost made Hayes want to look up what Morgan had been saying about him over the years. Almost .

“Nobody else is his age and playing at that elite level right now. He’s leading the whole team and third overall in points, fourth in goals. He’s going to drive the Sentinels to a second Cup. Why aren’t they falling over themselves to give him a five-year contract?”

“’Cause he’s thirty-one,” Reilly retorted.

“He’s not falling off,” Morgan argued. “He’s a freaking star.

A stud . If you look at his numbers, he’s brought it every year.

I’d actually argue that sure, he’s a hair slower than he used to be, but his vision is better, his IQ has never been stronger.

I’d take him over any of those young guns out there right now. ”

“I meant it too.”

Hayes looked up and flushed guiltily.

Morgan sauntered in. Mimicked Hayes’ lean against the counter. “You didn’t watch it?”

“I . . .” Hayes pressed pause as Reilly and Anderson started analyzing his last five years of stats. “I didn’t. I knew you’d say what you needed to.”

Morgan chuckled under his breath. “You really think I said all that because you needed me to?”

“Well . . .yeah?”

“Angel, I meant every fucking word.” Morgan tugged him into his arms. “I’d have said more, if I thought it would make a damn bit of difference. It’s so shitty what they’re doing to you. I hate it.”

“Because you’re crazy about me,” Hayes said. He’d almost said, because you love me, but that was a step further than he felt quite comfortable with. Morgan could say he loved him, but there was still a half a second of hesitation when Hayes thought about just casually assigning him those feelings.

Morgan pulled back a fraction, frowning. “Seriously?”

“Well, you wouldn’t lie on TV, I guess.”

Morgan laughed.

“Okay,” Hayes said, poking him in the side and unable to help the smile that blossomed across his face. “You’d totally lie on TV.”

“But I didn’t today. If anything, I downplayed how I felt about it.” Morgan sounded painfully earnest now.

Hayes decided this was a good time to change the subject. “Barty says they asked for another meeting. Them this time, not him.”

“A good sign,” Morgan said. “My phone’s been blowing up all day. They want me to do some more interviews about it. I didn’t commit to anything else yet—didn’t want to before I talked to you.”

“What does Barty think?”

Morgan made an exasperated noise. “Hayes, I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I only care how you feel about it.”

“Oh.”

“I know too much praise makes you weird.”

Hayes wet his lips. “Not exactly.”

“Oh, angel, it absolutely does. You were hiding in the bathroom to watch the good stuff I said about you.”

Hayes was annoyed. He didn’t want to admit the truth and Morgan was going to make him do it anyway. Zach would probably have told him this was what love really was; knowing someone so well you wouldn’t let them get away with crap.

“Okay, fine, yes, I was hiding in the bathroom.”

Morgan ruffled his hair. “You showered at the rink. You always do.”

“Here I thought you were too distracted by Filip Forsberg to think about when I showered,” Hayes muttered.

“Are you kidding?” Morgan laughed. “Forsberg doesn’t have shit on you, angel. You gonna tell me about it?”