Page 22 of Breaking the Ice

And heknewthat, obviously. But the dramatics ensured that people didn’t come back. That the stories and the legends grew. That he became like the hockey boogeyman, and eventually people would just stop bothering him.

That had happened.

Until Zach.

“I let him in the house,” Gavin continued. “I invited him for dinner. We watched a movie. Drank some beers. I . . .” He didn’t know how to say this so he just fucking said it. “He grew up.”

Both Jon’s eyebrows raised now.

“How old is he now?” he asked neutrally.

And yeah, that was a hell of a lot easier question than the one he knew Jonwantedto ask.

“Twenty-seven.” Gavin tapped his fingers on the counter in a relentless rhythm. “He’s quit playing hockey, professionally, and that really bothered me, at first. His explanation makes sense, and he seems happy, but it . . .it was like a jolt to the system. Realizing that he’s grown up. Making his own grown-up decisions.”

“So he showed up, offered you a job, and you two caught up. And now you’re not sleeping.”

Maybe there wasn’t any judgment in Jon’s tone, but Gavin felt like he deserved a whole truckload of it.

“Yeah, that’s the long and short of it,” Gavin said.

“Any thoughts as to why?”

“I just . . .” Gavin squirmed, even though he didn’t want to. He knew what was true. What heshouldsay. But the words stuck in his throat. They were too similar to what Jon hadpushed him to do, why he’d stopped seeing him six months ago. “After he left, I can’t seem to settle back into my old life.”

“But you never left it. You invited Zach into your life,” Jon said.

“I did,” Gavin said. And despite all this bullshit, he couldn’t say he regretted it, even now.

“Is it possible,” Jon asked, so carefully neutral, “that Zach exposed how this life you’ve chosen doesn’t fit you anymore?”

Gavin didn’t want to answer that. So he didn’t.

“He showed me some hockey tape. Guys on the team. They’re exciting. A lot of upside. So much potential.” And as much as Gavin had been thinking about Zach and that moment on the couch, he’d been turning over the Jones and McCoy problem in the back of his head. Considering how a coach might approach Finn Reynolds and convince him to divorce himself from all the expectations inherent with his last name. Howhemight approach Finn Reynolds.

And that was the root of the problem, wasn’t it?

Zach hadn’t been wrong; this team would be a challenge, but an exhilarating one.

“You didn’t tell him that you didn’t watch hockey anymore?” Jon asked.

“I did . . .I . . .I could’ve said no.” But he hadn’t. He’d leaned in, just as interested and fascinated by the game as he’d ever been.

“But you didn’t.”

Gavin huffed in frustration. “You want me to say it? Okay, I miss it. I miss having a purpose. I miss . . .”God, so many things.

Numbness was a comfortable state of being now, but he missed being alive.

Missedfeelingalive.

“It doesn’t makemefeel better to hear you say it,” Jon said gently.

He could be an ass about this; he’d been right, after all. It had taken Gavin six months to see it, tofeelit, but he couldn’t deny it any longer.

“Well, that’s something.”

Jon was quiet for a long moment. So long, Gavin actually felt himself tense up, wondering what Jon was gearing up for.