Page 10 of Breaking the Ice

“Fair.” Gavin cleared his throat. He still hadn’t said the words out loud.Thanks but no thanks.He knew once he did, Zach would have no reason to stay. He’d made the offer. He’d told Gavin why he’d left the NHL. There was nothing else to do, nothing else tosay.

But Gavin realized that he didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.

He would eventually, of course. His life was in Portland. Zach would fly back to the west coast and he and Sidney Swift would go to that other coach, the one Swift had wanted in the first place, and hire him instead.

It shouldn’t have stung. It did.

Maybe it was that realization or maybe it was the fact that he’d be leaving anyway, regardless, so there was no harm in it.

“Hey,” Gavin said, “you should stick around. Have dinner with me.”

Zach’s eyes widened. “You eat dinner? Withpeople?”

Gavin wanted to tell him he wasn’t people; he wasn’t even close topeople. But it was too weird, even for him, because the last time they’d even been in a room together had been four years ago.

And that hadn’t even been a room; it had been a rink.

“Not with people, no, not usually.” Though occasionally, now, he did go into the little town closest to his cabin and eat at the diner. But that wasn’t really eatingwithpeople. There were people around. Sometimes they said hi and smiled at him, familiar now with his presence, but it wasn’t a social event. It was just food. Fuel.

“But you want me to stay.” Zach sounded uneasy now.

“Yes,” Gavin said. Maybeheshould be the uneasy one, but it felt like the most natural thing to offer. A glance at his watch told him it was past four.

“I’m sorry, butwhy?” Zach burst out. “You don’t want to take the job—”

“I didn’t say that,” Gavin said, but obviously he didn’t. Hedidn’t.

If he went back to coaching, it would be the same, all over again. And if he went back to Portland, when everything in his life was fundamentally different now, he’d never be able to be numb again.

And the only thing that kept him alive, kept him moving, was that blessed numbness.

Zach shot him a sharp look. “You didn’t have to say no. I know you don’t want it, I knew it before I even got out of the car, but I came here anyway, and I realize now, I . . .I shouldn’t have.”

“No,” Gavin said and discovered he was rounding the island before he realized he was doing it. Tugging Zach into a quick hug. And itwasdifferent. Totally different than how it had been seven years ago and then four years ago. Maybe because they’d become two different people than they’d been before. “No, you should’ve come. I’m glad you came.”

Zach still looked at him incredulously when he pulled back. “What the fuck,” he said.

Gavin smacked him lightly on the arm. “Language,” he teased. “You were better behaved at nineteen.”

“I was scared as fuck of you at nineteen,” Zach muttered.

“Really?” Gavin chuckled.

“Really. You were fucking terrifying.”

“Not me, maybe. Everything was probably terrible.” Gavin sighed. “I mean it. I’m glad you came. I’m glad I got to see you.”

“It didn’t have to be me promising at least a dozen or so open-ended favors to Hayes to find out where the hell you were and then driving all the way out here for it to actually happen.” The moment the words were out of his mouth Zach looked like he regretted them.

But no. This was good. This was honesty.

Gavin had forgotten how bad—and good—the truth could feel. Like sharp blades cutting through a flawless stretch of ice.

Lancing all the aching pain inside and letting it bleed out, finally.

“I know. . .I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” Zach said. “You’re really not. Don’t say it if you’re not. I’m not . . .I’m not mad. I get it. You had to do what you had to do.”