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“To actually exist in civilization?” Zach’s tone had morphed from concerned to quietly teasing.

“Right.” Gavin told himself he’d started this conversation, he could actually say what was really on his mind. Well, most of it, anyway. “I just want this whole circus to stop so we can actually start working on the team.”

“I want that too,” Zach said earnestly.

“Sidney’s just . . .enthusiastic.” Gavin said it as diplomatically as he could.

Would he have changed his mind if he’d known how much insanity he was inviting into his life? No, probably not. But he might’ve put his foot down more, and much, much earlier.

At dinner, Sidney had pointed out that his office had scheduled several more podcasts for Gavin to go onto, and he’d finally had to say no , that was not going to be happening.

“I’m here to coach your hockey team, not to single-handedly publicize it,” Gavin had said.

“It’s just such a great story,” Sidney had wheedled.

And it was. Right now anyway. How good of a story would it be six months from now, when the Evergreens couldn’t win any games because he was too busy recording podcasts and circle-jerking the hockey community?

“That isn’t how I’d put it,” Zach said bluntly.

“Hopefully what I said at dinner will solve that problem,” Gavin said. He wished he was more confident that was true .

“Might’ve been easier for you to go coach someplace else,” Zach said, even though he didn’t exactly sound that enthusiastic about the idea. “Less history, someplace else.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been,” Gavin said. “I would’ve been . . .well, it wouldn’t have worked, anyway.”

Zach was quiet. Gavin almost wanted him to ask if it was because he was here, but surely he’d made that clear enough this morning.

“Well,” Zach finally said, “the morning’s clear tomorrow. You wanna go to the rink?”

“Just the two of us?”

“Bet you haven’t had skates on in forever,” Zach said.

And no, he hadn’t. He’d barely even worn them when he’d coached in Seattle.

“You don’t need to,” Zach added hurriedly. “I know coaches don’t typically—”

“And when have I ever been a traditionalist?” Gavin asked archly. “You came to me because I’m not. Because I might see a way forward that nobody else does. We can get on the ice. Then watch some tape.”

“You already watched everything I sent you?”

Gavin chuckled. “Yeah, you know I did. It wasn’t that many games. Why did Nichols take so long to put Jones and McCoy on the same line?”

“I wasn’t coaching here then,” Zach said, by way of explanation.

“Oh, come on, you have a theory,” Gavin said.

“Do I?” Zach sounded downright amused now. “You must know me really well. ”

Gavin’s grip on the phone tightened. Was Zach flirting with him?

Oh God.

His heartbeat shouldn’t be accelerating just at the thought of it.

“I do know you,” Gavin said earnestly. He was shitty at flirting anyway.

“Uh, I think . . .I think he listened too much to Mal arguing. And then he bought into how Elliott was playing on the second line. He couldn’t see the path forward, the right path forward.

” Zach sounded adorably awkward now. Enough for Gavin to believe that yes , he had been flirting.

And even though Gavin should hate it. Should shut this down.

It was late and he was tired and maybe for ten minutes, he didn’t have to fight this.

After all, this whole conversation was harmless. It wasn’t like they were even in the same room.

“He should’ve at least tried it,” Gavin complained.

“He should’ve,” Zach agreed. “So you’re definitely going to put them on the same line, then?”

“Well, yeah ,” Gavin said. “And Ivanov, too, as the center. He grounds them.”

“Not McCoy?”

“Are you kidding me? When Jones pushes him, it’s like he finally forgets about all the shit he’s not supposed to worry about.”

“What about Finn?”

Gavin sighed. “Did Morgan have to fucking open his mouth?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. ”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Save me from hockey dads.”

“I’d save you from anything,” Zach said earnestly.

He probably meant it too. He’d go on all those podcasts Sidney had signed him up for, and he’d do it without arguing. He’d take one for the team. For Gavin.

“He’s got real upside. I like the way he tracks the puck. But the moment the other team scores, it’s like he gets too deep in his own head.”

“Yeah,” Zach agreed. “That was my assessment too. I talked to one of the assistants over at Syracuse, where Finn was before he transferred to Portland, and if you think Morgan opening his mouth to ESPN now is bad, prepare yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s going to be here .”

“No, he’s not. He’s going to push his son right out of hockey.”

“Then you’re going to have to talk to him.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Gavin complained.

“Do you know him?”

Gavin sighed. “He’s Morgan Reynolds. Of course I know him.”

“I mean, did you ever play with him?”

“I coached him once. I was an assistant during the Four Nations Tournament five years ago.” Gavin hesitated. “And before you even ask, no , he was not particularly coachable.”

Zach laughed.

“He was the captain, and—”

“Oh yeah. I remember that one now. Hayes was on that team. ”

“Yes, he was. They won the whole thing, a beauty of a goal from Morgan to your friend Hayes.” Gavin pursed his lips. “I’ll reach out to him. I’m sure he’ll take my call, if only because he’s going to want to convince me to play Finn as the starter.”

“Wouldn’t you play him as the starter anyway?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “No question. The other kid’s too young. Too inexperienced. Finn’s our guy. But if Morgan interferes, we’re going to have issues.”

“Good luck with that.”

Gavin groaned and for a second, everything went very quiet on Zach’s end, except for his breath, a little quicker than normal.

After replaying the sound in his head again, Gavin wanted to smack himself. Why had he sounded like that? When it was Zach on the other end of the line?

He’d gotten carried away. He knew he’d gotten carried away.

It didn’t matter that they weren’t in the same room now. Because he was thinking about it.

“I . . .uh . . .should go,” Gavin said, painfully aware of how awkward he sounded.

At least, positively, it would be basically impossible for Zach to find that attractive.

“Yeah. Gonna get you back on the ice in the morning. You need your sleep.”

“I don’t have skates—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Zach said.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“I’ve got the equipment guys in my back pocket. One of them is a major Sentinels fan and Hayes sent me a signed jersey. ”

“Oh. Um. Good.”

Zach had told him that he and Hayes were only friends, and even if they were more than friends, it wouldn’t matter, because it wasn’t like Gavin was going to cross the line.

But he didn’t like it.

He wasn’t stupid; that was an even bigger problem than Morgan Reynolds interfering with his hockey team.

“Yep,” Zach said, clearly unaware of how Gavin felt about this, which was good . A relief, honestly. “I’ll see you at . . .what, let’s say nine?”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed.

“Night,” Zach said softly.

And even after he hung up, Gavin couldn’t fall asleep. It was worse, even. Because now he knew what Zach sounded like, when he said goodnight. Would it sound the same if Zach was tucked up next to him in this bed?

Gavin had shied away from even the thought of it with anybody else. He’d essentially ghosted his fucking therapist for only suggesting he go on a few dates. Nevermind sleeping next to someone again.

But he was thinking about it, anyway.

Zach was so big and broad. He’d dominate this queen bed, sleep way too close to Gavin, their sides pressed together, warm and inescapable.

“Fuck.” Gavin deposited the phone back on the charger and rolled over.

Talking to Zach shouldn’t feel that good. Maybe it was just that his mind was coming back to life, turning the hockey problems on his new team over and over in his head .

Or maybe it was just Zach.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Gavin said out loud. Then repeated it again, with more confidence. “Even if you want to. It’s not going to happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t be his friend. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy him.”

That was allowed.

But the line he was drawing—nothing physical, nothing that could even remotely be construed as dating or hooking up—felt solid in his mind.

He could keep it intact. He’d done a lot harder things in his life, after all.