Page 65 of Breakaway Goals

“You know I do,” Morgan bit off.

But that wasn’t entirely true either, because as absolutely fucking miserable as he felt,nothaving that misery lodged tight under his breastbone, right up against his heart, meant that it was over. Really fucking over.

That actually sounded worse.

He didn’t want to be the guy who’d fucked and left Hayes Montgomery. But he really didn’t want to be the guy who just got over Hayes Montgomery like it was nothing, either.

“Then you gotta be strong, man,” Danny advised.

That was a whole fucking trip. Dannyadvising.

“You’re an idiot,” Morgan said. “I can’t believe I’m even considering taking suggestions from you.”

“Hey, I’m a catch,” Danny protested.

“Yeah, in that women catch you and then throw you back when they realize you’re a fucking lunatic.”

“And how is that any different than you and Hayes?”

It wasn’t. Except he’d thrownhimselfaway, because he’d already fucked up one marriage and that was when they’d lived together, in the same state, in the samehouse.

“Maybe if I see him, it’ll be like closure or something.”

“Yeah, okay, Dr. Phil,” Danny said sarcastically. “That’s not an excuse to like . . .fuck him one last time, or something?”

“Or something,” Morgan admitted.

“Yeah, I’m going to go on record saying that’s a bad idea. Don’t try to see him after the game. They’re probably not even staying in New York.” Danny paused and when Morgan didn’t answer, he made a frustrated noise. “Fuck, dude, don’t tell me you figured out if they were sleeping over.”

Morgan had already emailed their traveling coordinator, under the flimsiest pretext known to man, wondering if the Mavs would be staying over after the game or immediately leaving.

Turned out they weren’t leaving until the next day, because they were only heading up to Buffalo. Morgan regretted sending the email the moment he’d gotten the answer he’d wanted.

“I . . .I might’ve asked.” It was easier to lie to himself than to Danny. Morgan thought a therapist would probably have a field day with that particular realization.

“Dude,” Danny said. “You cannot go see him.”

“I should apologize. Ighostedhim, Matt. I just fucking . . .left.” Morgan hated the way his throat was choking him.

“And he’s probably really fucking pissed at you for that. You want him to punch you in the face?”

If Hayes did, he’dfeelsomething again. Something besides this all-consuming regret.

“Scratch that,” Danny continued. “You’d probably love that, you sick fuck.”

“I’m not that sick,” Morgan protested.

“Not because you normally like anyone punching you in the face, but if that was all you could get from Monty? You’d take it, and you’d like it.”

“I would not.” It was embarrassing how right Danny was.

“Now that I’m thinking about it,” Danny continued like he hadn’t even spoken, “if you let him win all the faceoffs just because he’s Hayes, and you’re crazy about him—maybe just full-on crazy at this point—I’m flying to New York and personally beating some sense into you.”

“I would not,” Morgan repeated but firmer this time. Because yeah, if Morgan went to see him after the game, and Hayes was angry and justifiably punched him in the face, he’d probably take it. But he was not going to let Hayes win anything on the ice, just because he was Hayes.

“Okay, there’s Morgan again. Remember that, okay? Remember who you are. You’re Morgan fucking Reynolds.”

He was. And Hayes was Hayes Montgomery.