Page 64 of Breakaway Goals

It was his own goddamn fault, so it was hard—no,impossible—to feel sorry for himself. He could only push through it, hoping that each morning when he woke up he felt less like death.

Less like calling up Hayes, fingers trembling as he gripped his phone, and begging for his forgiveness. For any pathetic crumb that Hayes felt like tossing his way.

Any time he felt like doing that, he called Danny instead.

Danny, who despite the fact that he hadneverliked that guy either on the ice or off it, had become a friend. “I’m only doing this,” Danny had said the first time he’d called him, a week after Four Nations had ended, “because you are so fucking pathetic, and anyone with eyes can see you’re dying inside, even on the ice.”

Morgan had wanted to deny it, but he saw the emptiness in his gaze in the mirror. “Guess I got you in the divorce,” he only said, hoping it came out light and funny, but instead it was flat and horrible, kind of how he felt inside.

“Yeah, and not because you deserve it. Hayes has people. That’s because he’s not a dick. You don’t have anyone. So I guess you’ve got me.”

Morgan had never told Danny how it had gone down. He hadn’t needed to; Danny had guessed. Something about the inevitability of Morgan reverting to his natural asshole state and fucking it up, in the end. Morgan hadn’t argued with this assessment because it was dangerously close to the truth.

They didn’t usually talk about it. They usually talked about anything else but Hayes. Danny was always good for the latest hockey gossip, who was pissed at whom, who was on a scoring streak, even who was hooking up and who they were doing it with. But they never usually talked about Hayes.

Which was why Morgan couldn’t even be pissed when Danny sounded completely fucking floored when he opened the conversation this morning with, “So, we’re playing the Mavs tonight. I’m going to have to see Hayes.”

“Shit, is it already that time?” Danny asked.

“Come on,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes. “You knew this was coming up. You probably had it circled on your calendar. Bandits versus Mavs. The night when Morgan Reynolds totally—”

“Totally melts down, falls to his knees on the ice, and proposes hot gay marriage to Hayes Montgomery? White picket fence and cute yappy dog and sappy brunch dates and all?”

“I hate you,” Morgan said between clenched teeth. He didn’t want that.Hedidn’t want that.Except that he did desperately want Hayes Montgomery. The white picket fence and dog and brunch dates appealed less, but in the face of having Hayes, he’d have accepted a hell of a lot worse.

“No, you hate that I’m right.” Danny wasn’t exactly sympathetic on these calls, which was why Morgan could tolerate them. If Danny had beenniceabout it, if he’d made empathetic noises about how much this sucked, Morgan couldn’t have stomached it. He didn’t deserve that kind of gentle treatment.

Morgan made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “How am I supposed to—just—you know? See him? Face off against him?”

“Pretend that he’s someone else,” Danny said promptly. “Oh! Pretend he’s me.”

“He’s a lot better at faceoffs than you,” Morgan grumbled.

“I’m so glad that love hasn’t changed you; you’re still a massive asshole.”

“I’m . . .it’s not like that,” Morgan retorted weakly. Of course it was like that. Of course he loved Hayes. He’d known it the night of the championship game, when he’d looked at him and realized he never wanted to look at anything else.

When he’d have thrown it all away to never look away from him again.

Except that it turned out hockey was a bitch of a mistress.

“Bud, I thought you were depressed and pathetic, not stupid,” Danny said. “So are you gonna go see him? Tell him how good you think he is at faceoffs?”

“Shut up,” Morgan said.

“Areyou?”

Morgan hadn’t really thought about it.Lie. He’d thought about it basically nonstop the last six weeks, alternately dreading and counting down the days like a little kid with a birthday party. He wanted to justseeHayes, even if Hayes looked like he hated him. Even if Hayes looked at him like nothing had ever happened between them. It didn’t matter, he just wanted to see him.

Andyes, he wanted to talk to him. To apologize. To try to explain. To beg his forgiveness. To make things right.

To hug him and kiss him and touch him—no. Morgan cut that thought off hard and fast. If he showed up at Hayes’ room and fucked him, it would destroy him.

But then, he was already halfway there. What was a little more destruction?

“I don’t know,” Morgan said slowly. “I shouldn’t, right?”

“You ever want to get over this?”