Page 27 of Breaking the Ice

“If I didn’t say it,” Zach said quietly, gaze glued to Gavin, like he could have ever looked away, “I’m really happy you took the job.”

The corner of Gavin’s mouth quirked up. “Me too, actually. Despite all that.” He waved towards the door and the no-doubt ravenously hungry media that were still salivating on the other side.

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I’m sorry—I knewit would be crazy, but I had no idea it would bethatcrazy.”

“Me either.” Gavin tipped his head back and let out an unsteady sigh.

“It’ll calm down,” Zach said. “This is the worst it’ll be.”

“Hope so.” He sounded tired. Exhausted, really.

This must really be a shock to his system. For the last four years, by his own admission, he’d barely even shared a meal with anyone. And now he was dealing with dozens and dozens of people.

Zach wet his lips, feeling suddenly, horribly nervous. More nervous than he’d been even before he’d pulled up to Gavin’s cabin in Michigan.

Hayes would tell him to stop being such a chickenshit.Hewas telling himself to stop being such a chickenshit.

“Why did you . . .uh . . .take the job?” Zach asked.

He certainly never expected that Gavin might just bluntly, blatantly, look at him and say,because you asked. Because you’re here.

So he couldn’t even be disappointed when Gavin said, “Because it was time to do something again.”

“I get that,” Zach said, nodding earnestly. Understanding that. When he’d first quit the NHL, he’d spent two aimless months living off his not-insignificant savings and wondering, without much urgency, what the fuck he was going to do with the rest of his life.

He couldn’t imagine doing that forfour years.

It was probably a fucking miracle Gavin hadn’t lost his mind.

“I didn’t even realize it, until you blew into my life,” Gavin said wryly. “My therapist told me six months before that I needed to change things up, but I thought he was full of shit. Until it turned out that he wasn’t.”

“Uh, well, glad it was me,” Zach said. He wasn’t handling this. He wasn’t even reallydoingthis. At least not in a non-chickenshit way.

“Maybe it could only have been you,” Gavin said with a quiet earnestness and a solemnity in his expression that made Zach’s heart beat a little faster.

“I . . .” Zach didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known they would do this, or do this so soon. He’d imagined he’d need to work a hell of a lot harder to navigate the conversation to what had nearly happened between them in Michigan.

But then Gavin kept talking, gesturing with the water bottle. “I wouldn’t have let anyone else get close, but you were my player. Iknewyou. And I had so many good memories of coaching you. It was easy to let you in, even a little. Once I did, I realized just how fucked up I’d gotten.”

This was not the way he’d hoped the conversation would go.

Not,You grew up and I saw you differently than before,butyou were my player.And,I had so many good memories of coaching you.

For those handful of moments on the couch, Zach had been convinced Gavin no longer saw him as the kid he’d coached. But now, Gavin had gone out of his way to emphasize that to him, Zach still was.

It was frustrating and Zach didn’t like it.

“Oh,” Zach said. Not sure what else he could say that wouldn’t make his disappointment obvious.

Because he couldn’t deny that ever since Gavin had called him and told him he’d changed his mind about the job, he’d expected thatsomedaythey’d be back in that place. That the distance between them would shrink to nothing, and one day, Gavin would tilt his head up, that look would be back on his face, and Zach would close the distance between them. It might take time, but eventually they’d fit together like two puzzle pieces that had finally gotten out of their own way.

“Yeah, I’m glad you came to Michigan,” Gavin said, chuckling easily, like the only possible reason Zach ever would’ve come to Michigan was to offer him the job.

It could still happen, Zach argued with himself. Yes, it could. But the more Gavin insisted that Zach was still a kid, still his player, the harder it would be to ever bridge that gap.

“Me too,” Zach said, swallowing hard.

Hayes would tell him he was fucked, then probably add that he was better off.