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It was a good idea, and Gavin was about to say so when he remembered the other thing he knew about Finn Reynolds. “Isn’t he gay though?”

“Yes,” Zach said cautiously. “As far as I know. No official statements, but I don’t think he’s really been hiding it, either.”

“I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about Ramsey deciding to seduce the kid,” Gavin snapped. Maybe a little harder than he should’ve. Because yeah, it annoyed Gavin that every time it came up, Zach acted like now , this was the time Gavin was going to reveal himself to be a homophobic asshole.

“You really think he would?”

“Well I just called him a kid, but he’s not, right?

He’s twenty, nearly twenty-one. And Ramsey is .

. .” Gavin trailed off. Had he sort of admired the balls of Ramsey’s stunt with Marcus?

Yes. But he also didn’t want the guy fucking up the chemistry on the team because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants .

“Ramsey’s not an idiot,” Zach soothed. “I shouldn’t need to tell you this.”

“No, no, you don’t need to.” He didn’t. Normally, he’d have looked up a full bio of whoever he’d asked to be captain, ahead of time, but this time he hadn’t done it until he’d already offered it to Ramsey. But everything he read about him afterwards had only solidified his decision.

“Good,” Zach said approvingly.

“We talked about this,” Gavin said. “I . . .I just know interpersonal relationships can fuck up a team. And ours could be so good.”

“Yeah, but if anyone fucks it up, it’s not gonna be Ramsey.” Zach didn’t need to say who was more likely to fuck everything up—Elliott and Malcolm.

Ramsey on the other hand? Gavin thought about what he knew about him.

A lifelong foster kid, who’d ended up at nine years old, in a semi-permanent situation with a guy who coached hockey. He’d taken to it immediately, and by sixteen, he’d been off in the OHL, living with a billet family and playing for the London Knights.

Then at eighteen, he’d decided to go to college and been recruited by every powerhouse hockey college in the country.

He’d been drafted at twenty by the Sabres and from what Gavin could figure out, had been invited to prospect camp before every year, but seemed satisfied to stay in school, for now, and to graduate, then join the team.

This was a guy who was searching for something, always, and Gavin wasn’t sure he’d found it yet .

“No way. Not Ramsey. He loves this team. Like it’s his family.”

That was what kept convincing Gavin that even if Ramsey could be restless, he was also committed to the Evergreens, and that was the most important thing.

Zach had also mentioned that his best friend, Brady, always played with him, and that from what he could see, Ramsey had semi-adopted Brady as his family.

“I’ll reach out to Ramsey, see if he wants to connect with Finn. I know he’s getting into town soon,” Gavin said.

“He will,” Zach said confidently. “I’m gonna talk to Ramsey, too.”

“About?”

“Oh come on, Coach,” Zach teased, “don’t you trust me to handle this? I thought I was the good cop. The friend .”

It should have done the opposite but Zach calling him Coach sent a thrill up his spine. And as much as he tried to pretend otherwise, it was not a platonic kind of thrill.

Gavin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this weak-kneed, stomach-clenching delight with someone else, but it was probably back in high school. When he’d realized the girl in orchestra who could play the flute like an angel kept smiling at him.

“I do,” Gavin said, wavering. Feeling weak all over. Not just his knees.

This was so much the same and yet so different, because he knew what those feelings turned into, and he didn’t want that. Not with Zach. Not with anybody .

“Good,” Zach said, a little smugly, like he knew just how much Gavin trusted him. How much he liked him.

Fuck, that shouldn’t have been hot, either, but it was. Gavin’s fingers were trembling as he gripped his phone. This was supposed to be safer. More public. More upright. Less intimate.

But maybe it didn’t matter how or why he talked to Zach. Maybe it was always going to feel like this.

“I just was . . .curious. I . . .uh . . .wanted to know how you’d approach it.” He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. Walk inside his empty bungalow and eat dinner by himself, with only silence for company.

He craved Zach’s voice in his ear. Deep and rumbling and sure .

“Well, first thing I planned to do was appeal to Ramsey’s need to be right. Let him figure how to help Finn. He likes a challenge; a problem to solve. I’m going to give him one.”

“That’s smart,” Gavin said, wetting his lips as he let himself into the house with his key. His mouth must be so goddamn dry because it was hot out today. “I like that.”

“Yeah? Thought you might.” That teasing edge was back in Zach’s voice, and Gavin wanted to eat it up.

“You’re good at this,” Gavin said.

“Learned from the best.”

Gavin caught sight of his reflection as he walked into his house, on the mirror hanging in the little hallway off the front door and ignored how flushed he looked.

“I’m not the best,” Gavin blustered, even though he loved hearing Zach saying it. Especially like that. “I’m . . .I’m out of practice. Just feeling my way around here. ”

“Doing a damn good job of it,” Zach said.

“Doing a better job ’cause you’re here,” Gavin admitted. He didn’t think he needed to say there was no way he could’ve done this job alone, not after all his time in Michigan. He wasn’t even sure he could’ve done it without Zach even if he hadn’t taken so many years off.

They made a fantastic team, working together like they’d never done anything else. Like it hadn’t only been six weeks since Gavin had come to Portland.

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. Willed his crush to stay contained.

He didn’t want to be the one to fuck this up.

“You wanna get breakfast tomorrow morning?” Zach changed the subject, and Gavin nearly took a heady breath of relief. But he knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Gavin said. “Meet at Jimmy’s at eight?”

“Sure,” Zach said. “I gotta go. Need to take a shower and change. Meeting a friend for dinner.”

“Sure. Yeah. See you tomorrow,” Gavin said and hung up almost immediately after Zach had said goodbye. Hating how jealousy curdled hard and tight in his stomach. A friend? Or a date?

Zach was allowed to date. Zach should date.

Why then did it feel like glass being ground in his stomach as he puttered around the tiny kitchen, putting together his own pathetic meal?

He tried to distract himself with a new Jason Stratham movie. It didn’t work.

Gavin went to bed and lay awake, staring at the ceiling .

It was obvious Zach had told him about his dinner not only because he did need to go get ready but also to let him know, gently, there wouldn’t be a late night phone call tonight.

He shouldn’t be so used to them that he couldn’t live without them, but damn it, he liked them. The phone calls helped Gavin relax. Helped him to empty his mind out of all the stupid minutiae of his day, properly categorize it and then put it away so he could sleep.

When he’d mentioned it to Jon, Jon had only said, “Well, isn’t that what you always did with Noelle?”

He had. Goddamn it, he had.

It was so fucking unfair to cast Zach into that position. Unfair to Zach. Unfair to Noelle’s memory. Unfair to Gavin, too, if he was really going there.

Because he wasn’t ever going to be able to do it in person. Wouldn’t ever be able to roll over and see Zach’s sleepy face and ask him whatever burning question was eating up his brain late at night.

That was a line he couldn’t cross, no matter how much his body craved it.

“This is good,” Gavin told himself out loud, feeling undeniably pathetic. “This is better than good. You’re gonna get used to this new reality.”

But the new reality had Zach in it. Zach in his ear. Zach laughing under his breath as he teased Gavin. Zach being his friend. Zach being his favorite person.

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut.

He could fall asleep without that. He could . There weren’t any options. He just had to do it .

But just when he was getting to the point where he wasn’t actually sure he could, his phone vibrated with a text.

He snatched it from the bedside table so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t get a cramp.

It was from Zach.

Is it weird that I miss talking to you at night?’

Goddamn it.

It was easier to deal with this if Gavin kept telling himself it was just him. Maybe he’d even be able to let it go if he could paint it as his own selfish desires.

But here Zach was, smashing that assumption to fucking dust.

No, it’s not weird.

It should be weird; Gavin knew it should be weird.

He texted again, refusing to think about why he couldn’t stop his fingers from moving. I missed it too.

Missed you, too.

Okay. Not just me then.

Ugh, this would be easier if Zach seemed less into it.

No .

A second later, his phone rang.

“I . . .uh . . .” Zach stammered. “I thought it would be easier to talk than text.”

Gavin smiled, unable to help himself. “It’s alright. I like this too.”

“Good. Good.” Zach was smiling, too. Gavin could hear it in his voice, and that did something to his insides. Made him feel like he was glowing from the inside out .

And that was fine, it was fine , as long as the line between them didn’t get crossed. Besides, how could it, like this? They were just talking. It was just talk.

“How was your dinner?” Gavin hesitated briefly over the last word.

Wondering if he should’ve called it a date instead.

Hating the flare of envy that someone else had gotten to take Zach out.

Not that it could ever be him; he knew it couldn’t be.

But that didn’t change the electric pulse of want that he always pretended he didn’t feel.

“Fine. It was just a friend. My friend Jill. We hang out sometimes. She’s in a lot of my classes.”

“Oh.” He felt stupid now. It was Jill, not Jack .