Page 2 of Breaking the Ice

Now,he just shot him a hard look. “What are you doing here?”

“I just want to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say.” Gavin didn’t need to addto youbut Zach heard it anyway.

It shouldn’t have hurt. Dozens of people hadn’t even made it this far. Hayes had told him that the last scout who’d come out here, the one he’d gotten the directions from, hadn’t even gotten ten words out of Blackburn. He’d only gotten the shotgun barrel and a hissed warning to get the fuck off his property.

“Well,I’vegot something to say,” Zach said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Half-expecting the shotgun to rise again. “You gonna let me say it?”

He—and the athletic director at Portland University—were both counting on his ex-coach having a tender spot for one of his ex-players.

Coach—Gavin, Zach told himself, he was Gavin now, because they weren’t anything, and Coach hadn’t been his Coach in a long fucking time—shot him an unimpressed look.

“You wanna say it out here?” Gavin asked.

He didn’t. Not really. But Hayes had told him thatnobodyhad ever made it onto the porch, even.

Zach’s competitive streak, the one he’d thought was long-dead, killed by the grind of the NHL, flared to life.

“No,” Zach said.

Gavin’s dark eyes flashed a warning, and it occurred to Zach that he looked more alive now than he’d looked in the last five minutes. Pissed off, sure, but pissed off was better than that dead-eyed look he’d been wearing before.

“You should get back in your car and turn around. Get out of here.” Gavin’s voice was gruff.

“No,” Zach repeated.

Gavin tilted his head, appraising him. He was quiet for so long that Zach was afraid hemightget shot, and no matter what he’d discussed with Sidney Swift, the Portland U athletic director, this wasnotworth a hole in his chest. He had the assistant coaching job, no matter what. Swift had promised him that.

“You grew up,” Gavin said flatly.

How long had he waited for Gavin to say that to him? A whole fucking long time. But then Zach had always imagined that it would occur under a lot different circumstances—if it ever happened at all.

For one, he’d hoped Gavin would utter it in a dreamy, mesmerized voice, rough around the edges with awe, not rough with disuse and annoyance.

Nevermind that he’d imagined it would be offered as invitation, not a way to slam the door shut between them.

“It’s been years,” Zach said, shrugging, burying his disappointment deep down, in the same place he’d always shoved his inconvenient and never-to-be-returned feelings.

It was true. The last time he’d seen Gavin had been four years ago, when his NHL team, the Los Angeles Mavericks, had played Gavin’s team, the Seattle Sea Monsters.

They’d greeted each other with a warm hug and a few words pre-game and a few more after the game. It had felt like every other chance meeting between an ex-coach and his old player.

Six weeks later, Gavin’s wife was dead and he’d disappeared. Zach had kept waiting for Gavin to rejoin the land of the living, but he never had.

“Has it really?” Gavin scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I guess so.”

Zach had known this was a fool’s errand. If he hadn’t known it himself, Hayes’ frank assessment of his chances would’ve convinced him. But he was here, anyway, wasn’t he? He’d come regardless, and he wasn’t going to let his offer stay unsaid.

“I just want to talk.”

“You know I’m going to say no,” Gavin said bluntly.

“Probably, yeah, but I told Swift I’d say it anyway.” But he wasn’t going to make the offer because Sidney Swift wanted him to. He was going to make it becausehewanted to. Because Gavin deserved more than to bury himself in the middle of nowhere, where he probably couldn’t evenleaveOctober through April.

And that, more than anything, was fucked up.

“Swift?”