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“I know that.” Gavin bristled. “But that’s not for me.”

“Why not?”

Gavin made a face. “Because it just isn’t for me. I don’t want to date again. I can’t date again.”

“Sounds like you want to, though,” Jon said kindly. Probably kinder than Gavin deserved.

“I don’t, I don’t ,” Gavin argued. Dating. Love. A relationship. That was the thing he’d had with Noelle. It couldn’t be duplicated. He didn’t even want to try. This thing with Zach was just . . .chemical.

“You just said you liked him more than you should. You like him. I think based on the few things you’ve mentioned, it might be likely that he likes you, too. Why shouldn’t you date him?”

This was why Gavin hadn’t wanted to talk to Jon about this. Because he would act like it wasn’t a big deal; like this wasn’t fucking monumental .

“I just can’t,” Gavin said stubbornly.

“If you can’t tell me why, can you at least tell yourself why that is?”

Yes and no.

Gavin didn’t say it though. The words felt stuck in his throat.

Jon sighed. “Alright, how about this? Could you spend some time together outside of work? Maybe not a date, but more than just co-workers?”

It was annoying how Gavin’s heart leapt at that possibility. They’d done that two weeks ago, after that first game. Shared a drink, even if it was at a work function, and then they’d walked together through the dark, quiet campus.

It had been so good, until Gavin had lost his mind and nearly kissed Zach again.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Gavin said.

“Why not?”

God, this was so embarrassing. “I’m not that good at uh . . .controlling myself,” Gavin said. “There’s a line and I’ve told myself there’s no crossing it, that I don’t even want to cross it, but . . .”

“But you want to,” Jon finished for him.

He wanted more than anything to say no, he never wanted to cross it, but that would be a lie, because he wanted to cross it all the fucking time.

It was unfair to him. Even more unfair to Zach.

“I almost kissed him again,” Gavin confessed.

“Yesterday? Today?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Jon’s eyebrows went up. “So you’ve been agonizing about this for two weeks.”

I’ve been agonizing about this since June. Since it happened the first time.

“I thought I would . . .get used to it. Or I would get over it. Or I would—” Gavin broke off with a muttered curse.

“You spend a lot of time together.”

“At work . We’re working,” Gavin emphasized.

“Right. And you enjoy that?”

“Yeah, I do. He sees me. And I think . . .I see him?”

“Okay. That’s good. That’s really good, Gavin.” Jon was nearly smiling now and Gavin wished that he’d not done this at all. But if he didn’t, what was he going to do about it? He’d run out of ways he could avoid it on his own.

“Why does it feel so shitty then?” Gavin wanted to know.

“Because you’re not giving yourself what you really want. You’re holding back.” Jon paused. “Are you attracted to him?”

Gavin groaned. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“That’s a yes, then.”

“It’s a . . .it’s a yes,” Gavin admitted, flushing bright red. He couldn’t deny it. Especially not after they’d shared the gym today.

“Okay, are you masturbating? Giving yourself the release you need? I know you were, but what about recently?” Jon asked so matter-of-factly that Gavin wanted to die.

Gavin stared at the laptop screen, very glad that he’d proactively decided to take this call at home and not in his office at the rink .

It was terrible no matter where they were discussing it, but God , imagine if Zach—or anyone else—overheard?

“We’ve talked about this,” Jon chided gently as Gavin tried to avoid looking at his brick red face on the laptop screen.

“Yeah, and funny, it doesn’t seem to get easier,” Gavin croaked. It had been, at least before Zach had arrived on the scene.

“You going to answer the question?”

“No, I thought I could just die of embarrassment instead.”

“It’s a normal human body function, Gavin.”

Gavin took a deep breath. “No,” he said.

“No, it’s not a normal human body function or no , you haven’t been.”

“The latter,” Gavin ground out.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Is it the same problem or a different problem?”

He was going to have to say it. Out loud.

“I don’t want to, because I’m afraid,” Gavin said in a rush.

“Not that you’re going to think about Noelle. That you’re going to think about Zach?”

God, it felt so wrong to nod his agreement, but that was the case, wasn’t it?

Four weeks ago, after a particularly late night at the office, he’d been so keyed up, he’d lain in bed and thought, I should . Hoping that maybe it would help calm him down enough to sleep.

But the moment his hand had drifted down to touch himself, Zach had appeared in his mind, as he had earlier that night, stretching his arms over his head, a sliver of golden stomach and abs peeping out from under his T-shirt.

Gavin had yanked his hand back like he’d been shocked.

He was not going to jerk off thinking about Zach. That wasn’t just nudging up to the line—that was skating right across it.

And he hadn’t tried since, because he already knew what was going to happen if he did.

“You’re allowed to think about him, Gavin,” Jon said quietly.

“No, I’m really not,” Gavin said.

“You know the difference between what’s happening in your mind and what’s happening for real.”

“Of course I do.” But if he kept thinking about it, if he let himself really go there, all of this would just get way fucking harder.

“It’s not a betrayal,” Jon said, like he hadn’t even spoken. “You know my opinion on this. She wouldn’t want you to be unhappy and alone forever.”

“And she doesn’t get to have an opinion, because she isn’t here,” Gavin snapped.

Jon sighed.

“What about finding someone else? Someone else with less history? A stranger?”

“That sounds awful,” Gavin said. He didn’t want just anyone. If he let himself, what he wanted was Zach.

It might be terrible and wrong, but that didn’t change the fundamental way he felt.

“Then I want you to try it.”

“Dating—” Gavin started to argue .

But Jon interrupted him before he could. “No, not dating. Simpler than that. Just . . .when you go to touch yourself, let yourself think about whatever you want. Even if it’s Zach.”

“I don’t know,” Gavin said doubtfully.

“I think it would be good for you.”

Gavin didn’t agree with that at all, but Jon was the expert here, and he’d been right about everything so far. Even about him supposedly never working in hockey again.

“Fine, I’ll try it,” Gavin said grumpily.

“Good. Let’s set up another appointment, and we’ll discuss how it went.”

Gavin flushed again. “Do we have to?”

“You think you can manage single words?”

“Yeah. Yes. I can do that.”

“Alright.” On the screen, Jon pulled out his tablet, where he kept his calendar, and Gavin pulled out his phone, doing the same.

After they made the appointment for a week from now, Gavin hung up and grabbed his keys, heading towards the rink for practice.

Okay, in the next week, he was going to have to make time to get himself off. And he was going to have to do it without putting any restrictions on himself.

No big deal.

But it seemed like the moment he’d given himself permission, that was all he could think about.

How soon after practice could he get home and get naked and get his hands on himself and finally, finally let all those mental restrictions go ?

“You look distracted, Coach,” Ramsey said as they leaned against the boards, watching as the team and Finn took penalty shot practice.

“I’m fine,” Gavin said.

“Yeah? So it’s just me, then?” Ramsey asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Ramsey was a great captain. Sharp and observant, never letting things go, but also never harping on them when the players weren’t ready to deal with whatever the issue was yet.

Across the ice, Mal yelled at Elliott, and Elliott snarked right back, the heat between them at its usual low-level simmer.

“Just you,” Gavin said steadily. “So Morgan didn’t tell Finn he was going to be at the game?”

“I believe he thought he was being low-key,” Ramsey said. He made a face, which told Gavin they both agreed on how stupid that was.

He was Morgan Reynolds.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gavin said. “And I appreciate you taking point with Finn when he shows up.”

“He’s a good kid. A great goalie. I don’t mind, really. He’s becoming a friend,” Ramsey said.

Gavin cut him a look.

“Just a friend, I swear,” Ramsey said, laughing. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”

“Oh, who should I be worrying about?” Gavin asked, hoping he wasn’t going to hate the answer.

Gavin followed Ramsey’s gaze to where Brody was laughing with Ivan .

“Ivan? Really?” Ivan was the steadiest player Gavin had ever coached. He did everything he needed to anchor that first line, barely letting Mal and Elliott’s shenanigans faze him.

“Nope. Brody.”

Just this morning, Zach had expressed concern over Brody. He’d said he’d talk to Ramsey, but here Ramsey was, before he could have.

“Did you talk to Zach?”

“No. But I’m not surprised he noticed too.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s playing as well as he ever has, but . . .well, you can see it too?” Ramsey sounded half-heartbroken about this. God, Gavin hoped that Ramsey wasn’t actually in love with Brody. He had his hands full enough with the rest of the team.

“Not as well as you, probably. I wasn’t here last year.”

“Before he hurt his knee, he was . . .” Ramsey let out a hard breath. “He flew across the ice like he didn’t ever want to be anywhere else, but it’s changed. He’s changed.”

“Do you think his knee’s still bothering him?” The reports Gavin got from the medical staff said the knee was fully repaired and functional, but this wouldn’t be the first time a player lied to a trainer.

“No,” Ramsey said. “I think he wants something else, now, and . . .” Ramsey didn’t usually sound bothered by any of the team’s issues. He faced them all matter-of-factly, like he was above them. But this seemed to genuinely worry him.

“And?”