Page 42

Zach barely registered his phone going off, he was concentrating so hard on the video clip on his laptop from the team’s last game—specifically the Evergreens’ first power play unit. He didn’t glance over until the second text came through, his phone beeping insistently.

The first was from Gavin. Picking up a sub at Sammy’s. You want your usual?

Zach sent a thumbs-up.

The second was from Hayes. The Sentinels were on a long road trip west, playing the Kings, the Sharks and the Mavs—the team that he and Hayes had been on together.

Got a free minute finally, want to chat?

They hadn’t been able to do much more than exchange texts since he and Gavin had gotten together over a week ago. This always happened deep in the season, when hockey took over Hayes’ life—and now Zach’s life.

Yeah. In my office. Call my laptop? Zach texted back.

A minute later, his laptop dinged, and then there was Hayes, looking exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a droop to his mouth. But he smiled when he saw Zach .

“Zachy, good to see you, man.”

“Ditto,” Zach said, leaning back in his chair. “How’s the road trip?”

“Hell,” Hayes said, but he was still smiling. “You know how it is.”

Zach nodded. He knew. It was one of the reasons he’d learned that the NHL was not for him. He’d found zero joy in the endless fucking grind.

“We’re playing the Mavs tomorrow, and that’s fun and also . . .” Hayes winced. “It kinda sucks.”

Hayes had told him once, just once, that he’d imagined playing for them his whole career. Being drafted a Mav and then retiring a Mav.

It hadn’t happened, and even if Hayes was happy as a Sentinel now, even as the Sentinels’ captain, Zach had to imagine the trade still stung, somewhere deep.

“But enough about me,” Hayes said. “How are your boys doing? I caught a game the other day.”

“Yeah?”

“It was some absolutely shitty stream, but yeah. They look good. Solid defense.”

Zach heard what Hayes wasn’t saying. They’d scored two goals in three games, starting with the first after the holiday break.

Even though they’d gotten three points—one win, one loss, and an OT loss—everyone on the team was tiptoeing super carefully around words like “problem” and “slump” and “losing streak.”

“Finn looks great,” Hayes continued. “I hate to say it—”

“No, you don’t,” Zach argued. Hayes would never lay the faults of the father on the son. It was why he’d never worried about the strong possibility that Hayes would end up as Finn’s captain. He’d take care of Finn, even if Finn’s dad had broken his heart.

Hayes sighed. “No, you’re right. I don’t hate to say it. It’s great. He’s great. Coming along really fucking well.”

“He is,” Zach agreed. “Now if Ell and Mal can get their shit together.”

“They’re taking good shots,” Hayes said, “they’re just not going in. It happens sometimes. Don’t let them overthink it.”

“Gavin wants to shuffle the lines,” Zach said under his breath. If Gavin was walking over to Sammy’s and grabbing them lunch, he’d be at least another twenty minutes before he showed up at Zach’s office door, but he wasn’t going to be stupid about this.

“Really?” Hayes looked surprised. “Didn’t you tell me that those two are basically inseparable these days?”

Zach nodded. “And they’re always better together than they are apart.”

“He needs to just let them ride it out,” Hayes said.

It was what Zach kept saying, but he had a feeling Gavin didn’t want to wait and see. Wanted to do something. Sometimes the toughest part of coaching was just doing nothing.

“I know,” Zach said.

“It’s not creating a problem between you, is it?” Hayes wondered.

Not yet it wasn’t. They talked about it, round and round, Gavin hardly sounding convinced either way, and then Zach would kiss him, and they’d melt into each other all over again.

“No,” Zach said.

“But you’re worried,” Hayes said astutely.

“We’re in a weird spot. I’m his assistant coach. I’m here to support him. Support his decisions.”

“Even when they’re stupid ass decisions?” Hayes chuckled darkly. “And no, you’re not just there for that, Zachy. You’re there to be a sounding board, to pull his head out of his ass when he shoves it in too deep. Not just to automatically agree with every choice he makes.”

And Zach did know that, but he’d also never imagined that he and Gavin would ever seriously disagree about how to handle something.

Not that they had. Yet .

“It wouldn’t be such a problem if the second power play team or some of the other lines could create some decent offense,” Zach grumbled.

“They’ll get there. They’re young,” Hayes said optimistically. “Remember what we were like when we were that age.”

“Stupid,” Zach said, and Hayes laughed.

“Not sure we ever grew out of that,” Hayes said. But he sounded lighter and Zach felt lighter.

“Fair,” Zach agreed, chuckling now too.

“But it’s going good, you and your coach?” Hayes said. “I can see you’re in your office so I won’t make you give me a play by play.”

“Oh, just ’cause I’m in my office, huh?” His door was closed, but he wasn’t going to tell Hayes he wouldn’t have done it regardless.

Hayes already knew it. Sharing details of meaningless hookups was one thing, but it was another to tell each other when it mattered.

Zach had never gotten more than a few tight-lipped sentences out of Hayes about Morgan Reynolds and he was fine with that.

Hayes flushed. “Hey if one of us is having sex, I feel like it’s a responsibility to share. Some of us are going through the dry spell of a century.”

Zach shot his best friend a look. “You know that’s your choice, Monty. You’re hot. You’re rich and famous. You’re single. You could walk into any bar in the LA area and get as much dick as you wanted.”

“Thanks,” Hayes said dryly. “I’m going to say that the next time a reporter asks me what specifically I’m doing to win games. Being hot. Being rich and famous. Getting as much dick as I want. ”

Zach laughed. “You might’ve five years ago.”

Five years ago, they really had been young and stupid, practically rookies, barely over twenty-one, buzzing at just the thought they were playing in the NHL.

But the trade had settled Hayes’ outrageous streak, and then the A and then the C the Sentinels had bestowed on him had seemingly eradicated it completely.

“Five years ago,” Hayes said, rolling his eyes. “That feels like a fucking lifetime ago.”

“I’m serious though,” Zach said, “you have to get back out there. ”

Hayes looked suddenly suspicious. “Is this your second attempt at an intervention?”

“No, it’s my attempt at giving a shit about you,” Zach said firmly.

“I don’t think you have much room to talk. You got the guy after what, only six months of pining?” Hayes waved a hand. “That’s fucking nothing.”

He didn’t sound angry or bitter or even jealous.

“Monty,” Zach said quietly.

“I’m just going to be single forever,” Hayes said. Which was stupid because Zach was right—he was a catch and wasting his whole life pining away after Morgan fucking Reynolds was practically criminal.

“Don’t do that to either of us.”

“The least you can do is tell me if it was worth the wait,” Hayes said, ignoring Zach’s reproving comment.

“I already told you that.” Via text, several times.

Hayes huffed in frustration. “Seriously that’s all I’m getting?”

“It’s . . .it’s not what I expected, in a good way. In a great way.” Zach wasn’t going to go into any more detail than that. But it was safe to say that the power dynamic between them cranked him up more than he’d ever dreamed it would.

“No more widower freakouts?” Hayes asked it lightly but it was impossible to miss the worry in his gaze.

“He seems to be . . .all-in, I guess? We’ve even been on a few dates. He keeps saying he’s going to tell our boss. With things being the way they are with the team, we haven’t discussed telling them yet, but I think that’s only a matter of time. ”

“Good, I hoped he’d treat you right ’cause I really didn’t want to come all the way there just to kick his ass,” Hayes said.

Zach rolled his eyes. “Like you could.”

“Hey, I’ve been in like . . .what . . .three fights?”

“Yes, three fights in seven-plus years in the NHL. You’re practically a goon, Monty.”

“I think one of those was actually an accident.” Hayes grinned goofily then, suddenly looking years younger. Zach wanted to reach through the screen and hug him.

Convince him, any way he could, that his life hadn’t ended. That he wasn’t just playing hockey games and marking time.

But what else could he say that he hadn’t said already? Hayes had to decide for himself that he was done waiting.

“Well, you can come here, and ‘accidentally’ stumble across G if he ever fucks up,” Zach said.

“Good, I’m gonna.” Hayes hummed in approval.

For a second, they were both quiet. Sometimes when they’d played together, when the noise of the NHL got too intense, they’d hide together in dark arena corners, in their hotel room, and just sit in silence. Soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence.

They were a long way from being those rookies, but Zach discovered it worked the same way.

But before the quiet could drag on too long, there was a soft knock on his door.

“Oh, I think Gavin’s here with lunch,” Zach said, suddenly feeling awkward. Should he keep Hayes on the line? Should he say he had to go ?

“Oh, good, I can give him the shovel talk now, then,” Hayes joked.

Zach flushed. “Monty,” he warned.

“I’ll be nice.”

“Accidentally or on purpose?”

Hayes laughed out loud as Zach called out, “Come in.”

Gavin stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said, “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“Come ’ere,” Zach said, waving him in. “I’m just talking to Hayes.”

“Oh, I don’t want to—”

Zach grinned and gestured at him again. “Come over. Say hi.”

Hayes looked very smug on the screen, arms folded across his chest. “Hey, Coach,” he said as Gavin rounded the desk, coming into view.