Page 121 of Breaking the Ice

“Come ’ere,” Zach said, waving him in. “I’m just talking to Hayes.”

“Oh, I don’t want to—”

Zach grinned and gestured at him again. “Come over. Say hi.”

Hayes looked very smug on the screen, arms folded across his chest. “Hey, Coach,” he said as Gavin rounded the desk, coming into view.

“Good to see you,” Gavin said, depositing the bag of sandwiches on the desk next to Zach’s laptop. “You two catching up?”

“Yeah, Monty’s on a shitty road trip,” Zach said.

“Like an eight fucking day road trip,” Hayes complained.

“Sucks,” Gavin said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty worn out but . . .” Hayes’ lips curled into a grin. “Not too worn out to make a detour up to Portland if I need to.”

“Ugh, Monty,” Zach groaned.

But Gavin just smiled. “I get it. If I was on the other side, I’d absolutely come kick my ass if I screwed up again.”

Hayes nodded firmly. “Glad you understand the score, Coach.”

“I’m not going to screw up again, though,” Gavin said earnestly. “Not if I can help it.”

“Hmmm.” Hayes didn’t sound won over yet, though. “Guess that means if you ‘accidentally’ screw up then I can ‘accidentally’ kick your ass?”

Gavin laughed, for real then. “Sure. Why not.”

“Monty thinks he’s a real goon, now. With his whole three NHL fights,” Zach joked.

“And how many didyouhave?” Gavin asked, looking delighted. Zach was probably gazing at him like he was wildly, crazily in love.

Which he was. No question.

“More than three,” Zach said wryly. He’d gotten into more than his share. Usually because some opposing player was shitty to Hayes and he wasn’t going to stand back and let any of that crap go.

“But you’re built for that, baby,” Gavin teased, patting his bicep.

Zach flushed.

Hayes made an obnoxious cooing noise in the back of his throat. “You two are adorable. I’m happy for you, really. Now go have your lunch date, I’ve got lunch too. Not a date, so I’ll try not to cry into my turkey club.”

After Hayes had hung up, and Zach was opening the Sammy’s bag, spreading out the paper-wrapped sandwiches on the desk, Gavin asked, “He didn’t really mean that, did he?”

“About crying into his turkey club?” Zach asked, reaching into the mini fridge behind his desk and grabbing a can of DietCoke for Gavin—that he’d started stocking just for him—and a bottle of water for himself.

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “Is he okay? He looked exhausted.”

“Dregs of the season. You know how it is.” But Zach couldn’t say he wasn’t worried. That he wasn’talwaysworried, in some way, about Hayes.

“Yeah, still. He’s . . .it’s not going to make him feel worse, to hear about us together?” Gavin asked, as he picked up half of his ham and cheddar sandwich.

“He’s happy for us,” Zach said. He wondered if that ecstatic thrill that they were anuswould ever stop cascading through him.

Gavin cracked his Diet Coke open. “I didn’t think he wasn’t.”

“I just wish he’d decide it’s time to move on,” Zach confessed. “Morgan isn’t going to miraculously become not an asshole.”