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It was their second practice after Gavin had decided to shake things up, and he wished he could tell himself it was working.

Be patient .

He knew chemistry took time to build, but so far, Malcolm was just bullying his players into submission, until they were afraid to even shoot the fucking puck.

As for the first team, Elliott had turned into a mini Malcolm, riding Conrad until he just reflexively sent the puck in Elliott’s direction, even if he wasn’t particularly open.

“You just missed Ivan, who was right there ,” Zach barked out across the ice. Not sounding particularly patient.

Maybe it had been unfair of Gavin to give him this burden, when he hadn’t even wanted to do this in the first place.

Part of him wanted to head over to where Zach was standing, just inside the blue line, as he tried to reason with the five players on the ice, and tell him to forget this whole fucking thing.

There had to be easier ways to get out of this slump.

But you did this, you have to see it through .

Ramsey skated his direction, as Zach argued with Elliott and Conrad.

“What do you think, Coach?” he asked, picking up his water bottle.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “You can see it as well as I can. It’s a clusterfuck.”

Ramsey just shrugged though, like he hadn’t noticed it. That was ridiculous because Ramsey noticed everything.

“Giving Mal a job to do with them was a good idea. But the problem is that none of those kids have Ell’s backbone, so instead of rising to the occasion, they’re just folding.”

Gavin pursed his lips.

“And,” Ramsey continued, “Elliott’s not a bad leader, but it doesn’t come naturally to him. Not yet, anyway. So instead of figuring out how to make Conrad listen to him, he’s pushing him too hard.”

“I saw,” Gavin admitted.

“Not too late to fix this,” Ramsey said casually.

“We’ve spent two days trying this out,” Gavin said. “It’s worth running for one game. Maybe it’ll go better than we think.”

Ramsey raised an eyebrow and shot him a dubious look before skating over to rejoin the group.

They ran the play again, and this time it did go better, Elliott skating circles around one of their younger, more inexperienced defenseman, threading the puck between skates, and once he was deep in the zone, passing it to Ivan, who passed it reflexively right back to Elliott and he shot it, top shelf, just clearing the other goalie, Nick’s, glove .

Elliott cheered and even went out of his way to celebrate with Conrad but Gavin wasn’t stupid. Conrad had been there, by the net, as a precautionary measure in case they needed the rebound, but he hadn’t really been involved in the play. That had been all Elliott, because he was so goddamn good.

“Well, that was better,” Zach said, skating back over to where Gavin was leaning against the wall.

“You don’t need to placate me,” Gavin ground out.

“I’m not,” Zach insisted. “It was better.”

“Only because that was classic Elliott-Ivan,” Gavin grumbled.

“Hey, Conrad did what he was supposed to do, and that’s all that matters. He could’ve gotten in the lane, drifted right where Ell was gonna shoot it, and then what would we have done?”

Gavin shrugged, because there was no good answer to that. And also because Conrad had ended up in Elliott’s shooting lane at least twice—and that was just during today’s practice.

“You’re grumpy,” Zach pointed out, sounded half-amused and half-concerned.

“I’m just worried,” Gavin said. “You’re right—this might not fix anything.”

“And maybe it’s just the shakeup they all needed to re-focus and figure out how to bring their A game,” Zach said.

“You don’t really believe that,” Gavin retorted.

“Actually . . .I’m not sure anymore. They’re all working harder. Maybe you were right, they got a little complacent because everything was going so well and we were so good.”

“We are so good,” Gavin reminded Zach—and himself.

But as practice drew to a close, Gavin was still thinking about it. How good this team was, and how it had the potential to be extraordinary.

How he never wanted to be the reason that they never reached their real potential.

After Zach came off the ice, he nudged him and said, “I’m gonna go to the gym. See you later?”

Zach nodded. “I’ve got a study session but I’ll head over after?”

“Sure.”

Gavin wasn’t sure they’d spent a night apart since getting together almost two weeks ago, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to start now. Especially not when he was already so uneasy about all the crap surrounding his team.

Some moments, some days , Zach felt like the only steadiness Gavin possessed.

You know other things, too. Lots of other things.

He reminded himself of that, over and over, in the gym. Lifting until his arms burned and running hard on the treadmill until sweat stung his eyes.

After showering, he headed home, heating up leftovers and eating them on the couch as the Sentinels and Mavs played.

Hayes was already two goals in, skating like a man possessed against his former team, but Gavin was only half-heartedly watching as he sorted through his email and tried to pretend like he wasn’t already eager and waiting for Zach to show up.

To kiss him. To put his arms around him.

To reassure him. And then to do more . . .

It wasn’t that late, but with arousal already beginning to simmer in his veins, Gavin took himself to bed—not to do anything; he couldn’t actually imagine not waiting for Zach, now that he was allowed to touch him and be touched in return—but because he thought maybe if he did, the waiting wouldn’t feel so interminable.

He’d read the same page of his book, some bullshit crap about leadership that Sidney had recommended, when Gavin finally heard the front door open and close.

He’d texted Zach his front door code a few days ago, but this was the first time he’d actually used it, and his heart began to race as he heard the noises of Zach closing the door, shucking his shoes, dropping his bag down on the couch, and then heading in towards the bedroom.

When Zach finally appeared in the doorway, his face was half-shadowed, the only light coming from the lamp next to the bed.

“Hey,” Zach said, grinning. “Hoped I’d find you here.”

“You happy to be right?”

“Yeah.” Zach’s gaze dipped from Gavin’s face down his bare chest to where the blankets were barely rucked up around his hips, exposing a strip of his boxer briefs. “I used to imagine you lying here like this when we talked on the phone.”

Gavin swallowed hard. Remembering all the times he’d done exactly that—and even more, the moment he’d hung up, touching himself, and wishing there’d been some way, any way , it could be Zach’s hands instead of his own.

“It happened pretty often,” Gavin admitted, and Zach groaned in the back of his throat, soft and earnest .

“You’re killing me, here,” he said. But he sounded like he’d willingly go to the grave.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you what else I used to do,” Gavin teased.

Zach froze in the middle of taking off his sweatshirt.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zach demanded, after he regained movement again, his T-shirt following the sweatshirt. Gavin almost joked that yeah , his clothes did absolutely belong on Gavin’s floor, but heat blasted through him at the thought, because they sure fucking did.

Zach’s breath was coming out in shallow pants, his chest rising and falling.

“I’m not kidding,” Gavin said. He swallowed hard, meeting Zach’s intense gaze.

After shucking his jeans, Gavin fully expected Zach to crawl up on the bed, to blanket his very willing body with his own. But even though Zach put a knee on the bed, absently cupping where he was clearly hard in his briefs, he didn’t move up farther.

Instead, Zach waved at him, casually, like his eyes weren’t blown dark and hungry like he could eat Gavin alive. “Well, then,” he said, “what are you waiting for?”

“What am I—” Gavin broke off. “You don’t want me to—”

“Oh, I do,” Zach said smugly.

“I’m not touching myself in front of you,” Gavin hissed, suddenly flushed with embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

“You’re not, huh?” Zach grinned. “I bet I could convince you to do it. ”

“No way,” Gavin scoffed. He wasn’t going to take that bet. Maybe he was soft for Zach—eager, really—hungry, like he’d been starving for years and years. Zach had to know that, but he wouldn’t use it against him.

Would he?

The look on Zach’s face said he absolutely would, without a single qualm.

Especially when he palmed his cock, with more purpose this time.

Like all it was going to take for Gavin to break was Zach touching himself.

It was crazy hot, lighting Gavin up inside, but he had self-control and dignity .

Sort of, anyway.

Part of what he liked about sex with Zach was that dignity usually ended up being the last thing on his mind. There was too much Zach in it, a litany of pleasing him and Zach pleasing him back, there was just no room for it.

Zach reached up with his other hand, tucking his fingers into his mouth and licking them. Making a showy mess of it, honestly, and Gavin could feel his heartbeat in his fucking ears.

“You still good?” Zach asked innocently, then practically deep-throated three of his fingers. Thrusting them once, then twice, until they were soaking wet. Then he shoved his briefs down without a single hesitation, groaning as he fisted his cock.

“No,” Gavin squeaked out. His cock was aching and hard, twitching against the cotton of his underwear. He’d never wanted to touch himself so badly in his whole life.

“No?”

“I want you to . . .” Gavin trailed off.

“Use your words,” Zach said bluntly when he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I want you to touch me.”

“And I want you to show me what you looked like. I know what I imagined, but I want to see the reality.” Zach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“It’s embarrassing, though,” Gavin said.

“Is it though?”

Gavin groaned again. Trying not to watch as Zach’s hand circled around the base of his cock and squeezed.