Page 75 of Breaking the Ice

Slotted between an email from a Red Wings scout asking for a ticket to Friday’s game and a forward from Sidney about this weekend’s media schedule was an email from Jon.

He hadn’t beenavoidingJon necessarily. He’d gone to his appointments. Dutifully answered in single words whether he was giving himself healthy physical release.Yes. Whether he thought about Zach when he did it.Yes.

Had even told Jon about The Conversation, even though it had been the last thing he wanted to admit to.

Had even accepted Jon’s disapproving face, because he knew he deserved it.

But he also refused to discuss why he’d drawn the line he had, no matter how much Jon pushed him to talk about it.

Gavin opened the email, knowing he’d asked for every bit of the guilt trip that was probably awaiting him.

Let’s have another call before the weekend,Jon had sent,I want to really dig into this hangup you have about dating.

Yeah that was not going to happen. Wasnevergoing to happen.

But he also didn’t want to put Jon off. That would only make him more insistent in the end, and he wasn’t going to ghost him the way he’d done in Michigan. That had been wrong, andfeltwrong.

Gavin hit reply.Why do I have to talk about it? You know why, and it’s a valid reason.But we can schedule something Thursday.

Jon’s reply was nearly instantaneous. Before Gavin could even close his email.

Just because you believe it’s valid doesn’t mean it’s actually valid. Thursday, 11:30 AM.

Gavin let out a heavy sigh and closed his laptop. Headed home, totally not already dreading what Jon was going to say to him on Thursday at 11:30 AM.

He had leftovers at home, which he pulled out of the fridge and stuck in the microwave.

After his chicken and rice was hot, he sat down on the couch and cleaned his plate because he knew he should.

Dealt with three more scout emails on his phone, as the Sharks-Kraken game played out on his TV. Celebrini and Smith were going to be something in three to five years. Just watching them like this, bringing young, hot blood to the sport, made Gavin glad that he was coaching again.

He was just debating whether he wanted to keep watching or turn it off after the last intermission when his phone rang.

Gavin didn’t even need to check the screen to know who it was.

“Hey,” he said.

He should get off the couch and go to the bedroom. He wouldn’t want to do it after he was done talking to Zach, and he was trying not to be so fucking desperate to get off these days that he couldn’t make it to the bed. But he didn’t move.

“You have the game on?” Zach asked.

“They need better offensive pieces so they’ll actually consistently play Celebrini and Smith together,” Gavin said absently. “I get the idea of putting them on separate lines, spread the talent out a bit, but it’s such a fucking waste of good chemistry.”

Zach made an approving hum.

“Give them five years and the right pieces around them and they’re the new Matthews-Marner,” Gavin said.

And that got Zach’s attention. “No way,” he said. “Celebrini’s not ever gonna be the natural goal scorer that Auston Matthews is.”

“He’s eighteen fucking years old,” Gavin argued, enjoying riling Zach up more than he wanted to admit to. “Give him some time.”

Zach harrumphed.

“You never think anyone is as good as Matthews. I think you’re in love with him.” As soon as the words were out of Gavin’s mouth, knowing and teasing, he knew they were a mistake.

He’s not in love with Auston Matthews; he’s in love with you.

And Zach had never said that, of course, but it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Zach might believe that to be true.