Page 61 of Breakaway Goals

“It’s . . .it’s hard to watch you praise me,” Hayes admitted. “It was hard six years ago. And it’s still hard, now.”

“Not because you don’t believe me, right?” Morgan looked worried.

“No, of course you mean it. I know you mean it.” Hayes squirmed. “Maybe it’s that you mean it too much. I don’t always know that I deserve it. Feels like I haven’t earned it, yet.”

Morgan cupped his cheeks in his palms, gaze deadly serious. “You’ve earned every single bit of it, angel. Take the compliments, okay?”

Hayes swallowed hard and nodded.

“Now, you really want to shower?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards the shower.

“With or without you?” Hayes asked in a teasing voice.

“With me,” Morgan said, curling a hand around his wrist and tugging him in the direction of the water. “We can be late for dinner.”

Morgan had been waiting in bed for Hayes to come home for almost two months now.

There’d been a time when doing this, just lying here, waiting , would have been enough to make horror and resignation crawl along his skin, but he’d made his peace with so many things.

Maybe if he’d shown up when he’d initially intended, six months out from retirement, still fucked up about it, even though he’d known it was time, he couldn’t have done this. Couldn’t have been chill about it.

But three years after retirement, Morgan had learned a lot of tough truths about himself, including, but definitely not limited to, that he’d carried the burdens of being Morgan Reynolds for much of his life, and that it was not only okay to put them down now, but it was encouraged.

Right now, he wasn’t Morgan Reynolds, the chosen one, but just Morgan, waiting for his boyfriend to get home.

He still had the rental house, and when Hayes went on longer road trips, he often retreated to it, still not quite comfortable in Hayes’ space when he wasn’t around for days at a time. But he had a feeling that when next season rolled around, he’d let the lease expire.

Honestly, Morgan had spent so many years traveling, even when he’d been living in New York, nothing ever felt like home. Not until he’d gotten together with Hayes.

Turned out home wasn’t a place, but a person.

A person he was currently missing.

Morgan shifted in bed, glancing over at his phone. Still dark. No texts. Hayes was pretty good about telling Morgan when they’d landed and when he’d be home. It should be soon. He’d watched them beat Columbus, and with the time difference and the flight time, Hayes should be getting home soon.

He’d just about given up waiting and reached for his phone to text Hayes and make sure everything was okay when he heard a noise—the garage door opening and then closing.

He sat up, suddenly alert.

A second later, Hayes was walking into the bedroom, hair messy like he’d just taken a hat off, eyes tired, but the brightest smile on his face.

“Hey,” Morgan said. “Is that smile all for me?”

Hayes flushed and set his bag down on the floor, next to the laundry hamper. Then wasted no time crawling into bed, wrinkled suit and all. “Not all of it,” he murmured softly, leaning in and pressing a hot kiss against Morgan’s mouth.

“Then what is it?” Morgan hoped it was the news they’d both been waiting for. The final contract between Hayes and the Sentinels—everything he’d wanted, that he deserved, finally within grasp.

Hayes inhaled and then let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s all done,” he said earnestly. “I can’t believe it, but it’s done. Barty had to tell them to not post until tomorrow because I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Yeah? Angel, I’m so proud of you.”

Hayes grinned. “Not as much money as we’d initially discussed, but it’s for the five years, option for a sixth.”

“You’re gonna retire a Sentinel.” Morgan wound an arm around Hayes and pulled him more fully onto his lap.

Not caring that he was naked and Hayes was still clothed in his suit pants and white button-down.

He’d lost his jacket and his tie somewhere, but Morgan reached up, tucking his other hand in the open neck of his shirt, tracing his collarbone.

“Yeah, I am,” Hayes said, dropping his head to Morgan’s shoulder. “God, I am.” He let out a long, unsteady breath. “Can barely believe it.”

“Believe it, angel,” Morgan said.

“I listened to what you said,” Hayes said after a long pause.

“Hmm?”

“Barty wanted to hold out for more money, and I told him not to. I told him to take it.”

“You feel good about it?”

Hayes wiggled closer, nearly giggling, and said, “What do you think?”

“Pretty damn good,” Morgan said, laughing too now.

He was half-expecting Hayes to crawl down into his lap and do something about his half-hard cock, but instead, Hayes went limp in his arms. Just breathed in and out and in and out again.

“Did you mean it?” Hayes murmured into his neck.

“Did I mean what?” He’d said a lot of shit, so much lovestruck earnestness, over the last two months, and he’d meant every word.

“When you said you’d be around, no matter what. No matter what team I ended up on.”

Morgan pulled back, needing Hayes to see his face when he reassured him. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m here for you, always. No matter what.”

“When the hockey stuff gets too hard?” Hayes questioned.

It would. They both knew it would. It always did.

Morgan considered how he’d been feeling, right before Hayes showed up. What Hayes himself had told him six years ago.

“Yeah, of course. Of course for the hockey stuff. But also to remind you that hockey isn’t all that matters.”

Hayes stared at him. Tongue flicked out, licked at his bottom lip.

“I’m never going to stop reminding you, telling you , that you can put it down, sometimes. Just like you did for me.”

Hayes squeezed his eyes shut. “God, you can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“I mean it,” Morgan said. “I always mean it—”

“I know, I know , which is why I just . . . ugh . You love me.” Hayes didn’t say it as a question. Just a statement of fact, which it was.

Morgan Reynolds loved Hayes Montgomery.

“Yeah,” he said. “I love you. Always.”