Page 18

September

Zach didn’t think he’d been so happy in his whole goddamn life.

Not when he’d been drafted. Not when he’d taken his rookie lap. Not when he’d scored his first NHL goal.

Not even when his beer league team had won the city championship or when he’d graduated with his bachelor’s degree.

Nothing felt as good as this—Gavin pressed to his side on the bench, the last thirty seconds of their first game ticking down.

The Evergreens were up five to zero, and the Cougars hadn’t even pulled their goalie, because one—even two— goals wasn’t going to make a bit of fucking difference.

Not tonight.

Gavin was practically vibrating next to him, and he knew that if he turned and looked, he’d see pure joy on his face.

He almost did it, but then Elliott leaned back and caught his eye, and he leaned in to check in with him instead.

“You good?” Zach asked .

Elliott nodded. He was beaming, too. And why shouldn’t he be?

He’d had two goals and an assist on Ivan’s goal.

The hopes for the first line, with Elliott and Ivan and Mal, had been high, maybe even too high.

Last night, he’d mentioned to Gavin that maybe they’d put too much pressure on them.

Maybe they wouldn’t be able to deliver at the rate everyone was expecting them to.

But he shouldn’t have worried.

Elliott was glowing, and even Malcolm didn’t look nearly as disgruntled as he normally did.

“Hey,” Elliott said, “how ’bout that power play goal?”

Zach grinned. “You know it was sick.”

It had been. The way Mal had tipped him the puck, barely even glancing in Elliott’s direction before it had connected to his tape, Elliott sniping it right into the upper right of the net.

That was going to end up on some highlight reels, for sure.

The horn sounded, the game ending officially.

Elliott gave him one more delighted look, before shooting off the bench with the rest of the team for the handshake line.

“Well, that was delightful,” Gavin said as Zach followed him down the tunnel towards the locker room.

“I’m trying to think of how it could’ve gone better,” Zach agreed.

“Ivan could be snappier on his faceoffs,” Gavin said, scratching his chin. “Work with him on those this week?”

“Yeah, we’ll do that.”

“And the penalty kill—”

“Yeah.” They could tighten that up a bit. The Cougars hadn’t scored, but there had been a handful of dicey moments. If Ramsey hadn’t deflected a shot off his skate at the last moment, they definitely would’ve gotten that one in.

“But Finn was solid. He recovered from that and got the shutout,” Gavin said under his breath as they walked into the locker room.

Zach nodded. “Hey . . .” He shouldn’t even suggest it.

But how many breakfasts and lunches had they shared over the last six weeks?

So many. Zach was learning patience, in a way he’d never have imagined he might when Gavin had first come to Portland.

The late night phone calls were now a staple—but they almost never did it in person.

Occasionally, there were later nights at the office, but that was the office.

Zach told himself he was being smart. Giving Gavin the time he needed to adjust to the idea of Zach being more than just his assistant coach.

But in the last week or so, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t frustrated at how slow it felt. How little progress it felt like they’d made.

Maybe Gavin would be perfectly happy to keep things exactly as they were, but Zach knew he wouldn’t be.

He wanted more. And Zach believed that if he could shift them out of this rut even a little, Gavin would want more, too.

“Yeah?” Gavin was distracted and didn’t look at him, bumping fists as the guys trailed into the locker room.

“We should grab a drink after this. To celebrate.” Zach couldn’t quite form the words to add, at my place, where we’d be all alone.

But he was thinking it.

He was wanting it .

Gavin actually looked disappointed. “Ugh, Sidney cornered me this afternoon and said there’s some booster get-together tonight, after the game. At Sullivan’s?” He named one of the upper end restaurants right on the edge of campus. “You should come with me.”

Zach didn’t want to spend his evening glad-handing with boosters and watching as Sidney dragged Gavin around, showing him off to every single person who’d ever given money to the university.

But it was also better than sitting in his empty apartment, waiting for Gavin to call him so he could lie in bed, make meaningless small talk and wish that they were there together.

That he could roll over and Gavin would be right there, easy to touch. Easy to kiss.

“Sure,” Zach said.

“I’m sure it’ll be—good job, Finn,” Gavin said, abruptly interrupting himself to greet their goalie. Finn’s helmet was pushed back, his hair sweaty and looping in dark curls over his ears and forehead, but he was smiling.

“Thanks, Coach,” Finn said.

He looked just about as light as Zach could remember seeing him, and he thought, maybe this’ll all be okay.

It was too early to know that for sure, of course, but it was a nice thought.

Nicer than spending his evening with Sidney Swift anyway.

Music started playing, guys shedding pads and equipment and heading towards the showers.

A damp patch was forming on his lower back, making his shirt stick to his skin so he headed in that direction too.

He was just out of the separate coaches’ showers, changing into a pair of jeans and pulling an Evergreens polo over his head when Gavin walked into the room after dealing with the media.

He still looked happy, but he looked tired, too.

“You good?” Zach asked as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

Gavin shrugged. He’d already lost his jacket and loosened his tie. Now he pulled it the rest of the way off and began to unbutton his shirt.

Zach looked away. It was only polite. But also he didn’t know how to look and not want to touch all that naked skin so badly his hands shook with it.

If he’d thought his crush was bad, back when Gavin had been his coach, it was nothing compared to how it felt now, taking up so much inside him Zach thought he might choke on it.

Hayes had stopped suggesting he get over it.

Now he was just a stoic presence on the other end of the phone line and in his inbox. Reassuring Zach that he could be patient. That he could do the right thing and wait until Gavin was ready.

If he would ever be ready.

“I’ll be in my office, alright? Just come grab me when you’re ready to go.” Zach was still looking in the vicinity of his shoelaces, no matter how much he wanted to just fucking stare .

“Sure,” Gavin said.

Zach retreated to his office. Just as he was leaving, out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flash of pale skin, and he swallowed hard as he collapsed onto his chair .

There were texts on his phone. Mostly of the congratulatory variety. His mom had texted for both herself and his dad. Several guys—still friends—he’d played with in the NHL and in his beer league.

Hayes, of course.

He thumbed over to their convo.

I’m going out of my mind.

Hayes had stopped telling him it was going to get easier a few weeks back, which strangely felt better than the alternative.

It wasn’t going to get better. He didn’t want useless platitudes.

He was in so deep he didn’t want to crawl out again. Even if someone showed him the path, he wouldn’t take it.

Maybe, at some point, he might’ve, but that was before Gavin had come out to him, and he’d known then, no question about it, that this was actually a solid, real possibility.

Winning is still better than losing , Hayes texted back. Zach knew it was late in Tampa, so he was surprised. But then, maybe he shouldn’t be. Hayes wasn’t exactly sleeping well either, these days.

And Jesus, Hayes had been doing this for years .

Zach didn’t know how he’d survived.

Of course, Hayes didn’t have Morgan around all the time—or at all, actually. Maybe that made it easier. For a stupid split second, Zach considered asking him that, but at least he realized before he sent the text that it was shitty.

Hayes probably wanted Morgan around all the time.

If Morgan had been around all the time, their fling probably wouldn’t have been so short-lived.

Yeah, except when you have to look in his face and see how goddamn happy he is.

Zach took a deep breath and added: I’m still being patient, tho.

Of course, what else are you gonna be?

I tried asking him to come over to my place for a drink, but somehow instead, we’re going to some booster event where Sidney fucking Swift is going to monopolize him all night long.

Hey, at least you have your phone calls.

The phone calls were great. Infuriating, yes, but also great. When he did finally fall asleep each and every night, Gavin’s voice was echoing in his ear.

Of course, that usually meant he woke up from hot and unsatisfying dreams, hard as a rock and leaking in his boxer briefs, wishing that the other side of the bed wasn’t empty.

Cold fucking comfort.

Remember when I said in July you were in deep? I didn’t mean it. You’re in deep now.

You’d know.

Don’t worry, I’m not staging any interventions.

Yeah, well, it wasn’t my fault your ex is an asshole. Not yours either.

Hayes didn’t answer right away. Zach groaned under his breath. He hadn’t meant to piss Hayes off, and now he was going to be worrying all night that he’d inadvertently made his best friend feel even worse about his personal life when he’d only been trying to help Zach with his .

There was a noise in the doorway. Zach glanced up and Gavin was standing there.

“Everything okay?”

Zach realized he’d been sitting here in the dark, staring at his also-dark phone.

Well, that wasn’t weird or anything.

“Oh yeah, I’m good,” Zach said, plastering on a smile. It wasn’t even that hard, really. He wanted to smile whenever he saw Gavin. Wanted to do a whole lot of other things, too. The frustration only came because he couldn’t .

“Good,” Gavin said.