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Zach didn’t know where they were going. They were just wandering, aimlessly. It was like their late night phone calls, except they weren’t in two separate houses. Gavin was right here, with him. Close enough to touch, if he found the courage.

“Anytime you wanna sneak out, I’m happy to be your excuse,” Zach said, meaning it.

“Yeah, I might take you up on that,” Gavin said.

“Anytime.” Zach nudged him with his shoulder, but didn’t move away after. Enjoyed the way their arms brushed once, then twice.

They weren’t touching that much, but it still felt like explosions detonating just under his skin. Zach craved more, but he didn’t know if he should take it. If he even wanted to just take it.

They turned down another street and then another and another. Walked through the campus.

It was a nice night out, warm but breezy, and they found themselves on the quad, lingering near one of the picnic tables by Hazel Hall. When Zach had been a student here, he’d spent hours in this exact spot, eating lunch and studying and goofing around in the long, endless afternoons.

But nothing could match this. The starlight picking out the handful of gray hairs at Gavin’s temples, the shadows turning his handsome face into Greek statuary.

Zach wanted so badly he burned with it, even as he told himself to be patient.

To let Gavin make the move if he wanted it, too.

But he didn’t. Not really. But he did sit down on the table, feet on the bench, elbows resting on his knees.

Zach joined him, deciding that it was okay to let his thigh brush Gavin’s.

He hadn’t pulled away from his touch. Not once.

“It’s funny how the season feels endless right now. Perfect, all stretched out in front of us,” Gavin mused quietly.

“But by the time we hit January, it’ll only feel like an endless grind?” Zach smiled. “Yeah.”

He loved both feelings, actually. The excited anticipation when anything felt possible and even the point where it felt like almost too much, like if he had to go to another game, he was going to scream.

Terrible, almost, but in the best possible way.

Like someone touching him after he’d just come .

“Like you said, winning feels better than losing,” Gavin said.

“The start of a season’s never felt like this before, though.” Zach knew why. It was his crush, too many feelings crammed into too small of a space, and how they overflowed everywhere.

“For me either.” Gavin glanced over at him now. “Probably because I haven’t done it in so long.”

Zach wanted to argue, to tell him that wasn’t why at all. That it was him . That it was him and Zach together, that was making every moment feel so precious, like that breathless split second before they swan dived right off the cliff into the unknown.

It was supposed to be scary—terrifying, even—but it didn’t feel that way with Gavin.

It just felt inevitable, and not like everything closing or anything ending, but instead like the world was opening up.

A thousand different possibilities, with one single golden thread of commonality holding them together.

Him and Gavin, together .

But Zach wasn’t stupid; he couldn’t say any of that shit.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Gavin tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. “Maybe it’s how good I think this team could be.”

With Gavin not looking at him, Zach could look his fill without any embarrassment. Without any guilt. And he did, eyes glued to Gavin’s face. To his lips.

God, he wanted to kiss him so bad.

He’d always wanted to. Even back in college, when he’d been eighteen and enjoying that first heady freedom, getting to make out with guys at frat parties and hook up after, he’d thought about Gavin way too much .

More than he probably should’ve.

And now? It was so much worse, a clamor in his blood, making his hands tremble.

“We’re going to do great things,” Gavin kept talking. Like Zach wasn’t a hair trigger away from saying fuck it, grabbing Gavin’s face between his hands, and not letting him get away from him this time.

But then Zach remembered Hayes saying his big widower freakout , and Zach couldn’t do it.

He should move away. Put some space between them, so he was no longer tempted.

Before he could, Gavin’s head tipped back down and then his face was right there, catching Zach right in the act.

And suddenly, God , they were right back in that same moment, when they’d been on the couch in Gavin’s cabin.

Gavin was staring at Zach’s mouth, his own dropped open a little. It was dark but Zach swore he could see the pink of his tongue just resting there, and he felt lightheaded. With desire. With the force it took to hold himself back.

“Zach,” Gavin murmured, and then his hand was curling around Zach’s shoulder, and he was hyperventilating, because Gavin was leaning in and this was everything he’d ever fucking wanted, condensed into a single endless moment, flawless like a diamond.

Gavin’s fingers dug into his shoulder, and he tugged him another inch closer until they were pressed together.

He wanted to do a cheer and yell, it’s finally happening, it’s finally happening , but if he did that, he’d have to move, and there was no way he could do that. He was transfixed, frozen right in place.

Waiting.

Nervously, he licked his lips, wondering how long Gavin would make him wait.

Too long apparently.

Because suddenly, Gavin let go and that open, needy look on his face shuttered closed.

He leaned away.

Zach felt lost. What had just happened? Had he done something wrong?

No, Hayes told him, you just have to keep being patient.

If that had been hard before, it felt fucking impossible now. Weeks, maybe even months. Years , possibly, of this impossibility stretching out in front of him.

And maybe at the end of it, whenever it ended, it wouldn’t even be the way Zach wanted.

“Sorry,” Gavin murmured, looking away. “I . . .sorry.”

It was like hitting rock bottom at the base of the cliff.

Zach shook his head, trying to clear it from the panic shooting through him, but he couldn’t.

He could end up just like Hayes.

Stuck in shadows. Loving someone he couldn’t ever have.

You don’t know that . But the pep talk didn’t work as well as it might’ve once.

“What are you sorry for?” Zach hadn’t intended to ask the question, but he felt stripped bare of artifice .

Gavin slid off the table. Shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Still didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t mean . . .I didn’t mean . . .”

Part of Zach wanted to retort that he sure fucking did mean it. That he’d meant it less than five minutes ago. That they’d been a breath away from meaning all kinds of things.

But then he remembered how Gavin had just emerged from four years in the middle of fucking nowhere, mourning his wife. How he’d sounded when he’d told Zach how old they’d been when he’d met her.

It was unfair for Zach to expect him to just stop mourning her.

No matter how he felt about it.

“It’s okay,” Zach said, even though he wasn’t sure he one-hundred-percent meant it.

“We should— I should, uh, get back home. It’s late.”

It wasn’t that late. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and they’d talked on the phone that late plenty of times.

But maybe . . .well, maybe it would be a good idea to go their separate ways. Zach wasn’t sure his heart—or his dick—could take any more close calls tonight.

“Alright,” Zach said, trying to sound casual. Like he wasn’t still half-living in that moment five minutes ago.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Gavin waved awkwardly in the general direction of his rental house.

Zach’s wasn’t really in the opposite direction, and part of him wanted to argue they could walk at least some of the way there together.

But forcing himself on Gavin wasn’t going to do him any favors .

“Yeah,” Zach agreed. They didn’t have an official practice on the books—just the game on Sunday. But he knew he’d be in the gym, and at the rink, and in his office, going over the tape from tonight’s game.

“Okay.” Gavin gave him one single nod, and then Zach was just about to turn away when he heard a whispered obscenity under Gavin’s breath and suddenly Gavin was pulling him into a tight hug.

It was quick—almost before Zach realized what was happening, it was over.

“Great win tonight,” Gavin said and then he was striding off, like if he stayed then he might do it again. And longer, this time. And more .

Zach waited until he was nearly out of sight and definitely out of hearing range before he pulled his phone out.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hayes answered on the first ring.

“Talk about what?” Zach was confused. Hayes couldn’t possibly know what had happened tonight—that was why he was freaking calling. To tell him that he and Gavin had nearly kissed again .

“Ugh.” Hayes made a horrible disgruntled noise. Like a wet cat.

It suddenly occurred to Zach what Hayes was whining about.

“You didn’t delete the Google alert, did you?”

Hayes made the noise again.

“You deleted it but then you added it back ? ”

“I’m doing it to be informed about Finn,” Hayes said, clearly attempting to find some dignity. Zach didn’t want to tell him he’d left that behind ages ago.

“Right,” Zach said. Now he didn’t know whether he should share his drama, not when Hayes was angsting so hard over Morgan.

“He was drafted by the Sentinels and I’m going to be his captain, eventually,” Hayes said, like he needed to explain himself.

“Yeah, probably,” Zach said. And that was going to be a fucking trip.

He could only imagine the meltdown phone calls he was going to get from Hayes once that happened.

“Ugh, why ?” Hayes asked, even though there wasn’t really a question there.

“Because fate and the NHL hate you?”

Hayes made the dying wet cat noise again.

“Hey, at least I didn’t tell him to his face that he was a friend-destroying asshole,” Zach said.

Only when Hayes went totally silent did Zach realize he’d just made a huge mistake.

“You wouldn’t,” Hayes finally said, quietly.

“No, of fucking course not. I didn’t even talk to him. I didn’t think I could, without punching him in the face.”

“It wasn’t— isn’t— his fault, Zachy.”

“No, of course not,” Zach retorted sarcastically.

“I mean, how else was it supposed to work? We’d have been in the same zip code like what . . .twice a fucking year?”

“And the offseason?”

“Okay, so twice a year and three months out of twelve. Sounds like a good basis for a relationship.” Hayes sounded like someone was stabbing him slowly in the gut and he just kept fucking bleeding .

Before, Zach would’ve mentioned that three years ago, Morgan had retired and there’d been nothing stopping him from moving to Tampa and showing up at Hayes’ house and telling him he loved him and wanted to be with him. But he hadn’t.

And that, more than anything else, Zach knew, was why Hayes sounded like he was bleeding out.

Zach would’ve done just about anything to staunch Hayes’ hemorrhage. So it wasn’t too much of a stretch for him to say, “Gavin almost kissed me again tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” And he already sounded better, so Zach kept going.

“He didn’t, of course. Of course . But almost ? And that’s something, right?”

“Right,” Hayes agreed easily.

“I only had a minor freakout afterwards, when he apologized .”

“He apologized? Ouch.”

“I mean, he didn’t say what for. Maybe he was apologizing for not doing it?” Zach wanted to believe that was true, but he didn’t quite buy it. Still, it was easier to say that than to say the alternative, which was that Gavin was apologizing for almost kissing him.

“Sure,” Hayes said but it was obvious he wasn’t buying it either.

“What if we end up like this, together? ”

“You mean happy and shit? I don’t know. Enjoy it,” Hayes said moodily.

“I mean you and me . What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Grow old and grumpy together. Marry platonically,” Hayes said so quickly that it was obvious he’d thought about it, too. “Maybe adopt a dog.”

“I like cats,” Zach said, more to annoy Hayes than because it was true.

“Okay, we’ll adopt a dog and a cat and be one big happy gay family.”

“No offense but that sounds kind of awful,” Zach said. “I love you and that still sounds awful.”

“I know,” Hayes agreed despondently.

They were both quiet for a long moment. “Tell me we’re going to be okay,” Hayes said finally.

“You’re gonna be just fine. I’m going to give you Marcus’ number. You’re going to fall madly in love and have the best sticks in the league,” Zach said, even though he knew none of that was going to happen.

As for himself, he didn’t even want to spin any insane fantasies. If he ended up like Hayes? He’d lose his fucking mind.

He’d never be able to stay here, and he’d never want to leave, either.

It was so fucked. He was so fucked.

“I don’t think so,” Hayes said, but Zach could hear the smile in his voice and took that as a win.

“Sounds good, though,” Zach said.

“You’re gonna be okay too.” Hayes sounded like he meant it, and Zach really wanted to believe he was right.

So he did.