Page 73 of Breaking the Ice

“Man, that goal in the second? That was gorgeous fucking hockey,” Zach said.

He’d had the TV on low as he’d talked to Gavin on the phone. He hadn’t even realized Gavin was watching the same game he was, until they’d both made the same embarrassing screech as Hayes had woven his way between three opposing players, barely set up, and then hit the upper corner of the net like he was born to do it.

“Damn,” Gavin had said. “That guy is good at hockey.”

Zach had never been prouder.

“Thanks,” Hayes said. “I think the team’s gonna be good this year.”

“Me too,” Zach agreed.

They relaxed into a companionable silence.

“Got a long road trip coming up,” Hayes observed.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Playing New York at the end,” Hayes added. “God, I hate going there.”

“No, you hate that even seeing his number in the rafters gives you a boner.”

“You’re the worst,” Hayes said, his tone affectionate.

“Not true. Complete slander.” Zach chuckled.

“Don’t be a stranger again, okay? Don’t make me call you when you fucking ghost me again.” Hayes’ soft amusement morphed into sternness.

“I won’t,” Zach promised.

“Good,” Hayes said.

It had been four weeks since the conversation.

It was always The Conversation in Gavin’s head.

Always the moment he sincerely, completely, utterly fucked everything up.

Not because he’d lied—the opposite in fact—but because of how Zach’s hope had dissolved like sugar in water, drowning in the inevitability of disappointment.

He’ddone that.

Gavin wasn’t stupid; it was always going to really fucking suck to tell Zach the truth. Thatyes, he was attracted to him, butno, nothing was ever going to happen. But it felt worse because of what he’d done the night before.

What he kept fucking doing.

He told himself it was only because he’d closed the door firmly on anything happening, and this made indulging in every mental fantasy he had about Zach safe.

But it wasn’t safe at all.

Didn’t mean that Jon had stopped harassing him about it. Didn’t mean he could stop doing it.

Didn’t mean he’d stopped feeling way too fucking guilty about it.

“I’m going to have to talk to Mal, aren’t I?” Zach asked from his seat on the couch. They’d just finished watching film of the last game. Analyzing the first line play in particular. How dynamite and dynamic Mal and Elliott were together.

Gavin leaned back in his desk chair, trying to pretend to himself that he wasn’t counting down the minutes until he could leave this office and go home. Then get off. And talk to Zach. Or the other way around. He wasn’t picky. He was going to be thinking about Zach no matter what.

“About the scouts?”