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“I guess believing this would be no big deal was wishful thinking,” Gavin said under his breath.

“Yeah, a little.” Zach slung an arm across his shoulders. And God , he could do that now, in full view of the team. Of course, it seemed like he probably could’ve done that before, too, since they’d all assumed it was already happening without being told.

Gavin was actually not going to think about that, because if he did, and really considered how obvious they must’ve been, he’d die of embarrassment.

“Coach,” Ivan said intently, “you gotta give us more than that.”

“More than that?” Gavin’s eyebrows raised.

“Like, was there something, anything, before that?” Ramsey questioned. The knowing gleam in his blue eyes made it clear he believed there had been.

“Uh,” Gavin hesitated.

“Ivy,” Brody hissed, elbowing him in the side. “You’re being an ass. ”

“We need to know who wins!”

“You’re not even in the running,” Brody argued.

“I have a side bet going,” Ivan admitted.

“Oh my God,” Brody said, burying his face in his hands. “You guys are all assholes.”

“No arguments from me,” Zach said mildly. “And you’re not getting any more details.”

“You’re really telling me that nothing happened on New Years Eve, when you both disappeared for the countdown?” Ramsey asked archly.

Gavin exchanged a glance with Zach. Was Zach also remembering how they’d been discovered in that hallway at the arcade? It hadn’t been Ramsey who found them, but Brody. Ramsey’s best friend.

Brody, who might’ve mentioned it to Ramsey. Who probably had mentioned it to Ramsey.

“Wait a second,” Brody said, realization dawning across his face, and shit, there it was. “You two were—I saw you.”

“What?” Ramsey exclaimed. “You saw them and you didn’t say anything? Not to me ?”

“Well, I didn’t realize— it was New Year’s, dude—”

Ramsey rolled his eyes. “And Dean was there.”

“Of course Dean was there!”

Gavin inwardly groaned. “Last detail,” he said in a loud enough voice it cut through the bullshit—Ramsey giving Brody shit about his boyfriend and Brody dishing it right back, pointing out that Ramsey had been the one to set them up—“But uh, yes, something happened that night. ”

“But you didn’t get together then. The bet wasn’t if they fucked in the bathroom, it was when they got together ,” Finn said, leaning forward, teeth gleaming as he grinned at Ramsey.

“Fuck you, I won,” Ramsey argued.

“We didn’t—not in the bathroom . . .” Gavin argued, hating himself and hating that he hadn’t managed to shut this conversation down yet.

“Don’t worry, Coach,” Elliott said reassuringly, “you wouldn’t be the only one.”

Zach was just straight up cackling now.

“Thanks for being helpful,” Gavin murmured to him. “What do we do?”

Zach glanced over at Gavin and finally stopped laughing, clearing his throat.

“Okay, we’re going to give Ramsey twenty-five percent of the pot, for the New Year’s guess. Finn gets the rest,” he said, finality ringing in his voice.

Ramsey started to argue—but Zach shot him a look. “We can either accept my decision,” he said, “or I can go into additional detail about collusion.”

“Collusion?” Finn asked, mid-high five with Ivan. “What about collusion?”

“Nothing about collusion,” Ramsey muttered.

“That’s better,” Zach said, nodding. He looked over at Gavin. “You good?”

Gavin tried to paste on an expression that wasn’t flustered. He wasn’t sure he managed it. “Yeah, yeah. Great. Let’s uh . . .let’s talk about the game tomorrow.”

“Game tomorrow,” Zach repeated, raising his voice again .

“Yeah guys,” Ramsey added, his voice rising to meet Zach’s, “game tomorrow. Let’s get focused.”

If Gavin had ever needed to know if Ramsey was the right choice to wear the C, the way the whole locker room went right back to getting ready for practice, suddenly locked and dialed in, that was the evidence he would’ve needed.

But he hadn’t ever needed it.

Ramsey had been the obvious choice from the moment he’d shown up, and he’d only ever proven that gut instinct right, over and over again.

He finished getting ready first, and as he passed by Gavin on the way to the ice, Gavin reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey,” he said in a low voice, “thanks for the support.”

Ramsey shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was , actually, but Gavin was okay pretending if that was what Ramsey wanted.

“We could play it easy the next two games—”

“No,” Ramsey said, shaking his head abruptly. “No. We’re not taking our foot off the gas.”

“Good. Good .” Gavin hadn’t realized how much he didn’t want to until Ramsey agreed.

“We got this, Coach,” Ramsey said, patting him on the arm. Then he shot him a knowing look. “More than twenty-five damn percent, that’s for fucking sure.”

When Zach wandered back after talking to Finn, Gavin was still chuckling.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh, just . . .Ramsey being Ramsey,” Gavin said.

“He ended up being pretty perfect for this team, didn’t he? ”

“I couldn’t come up with any way he could be any better,” Gavin said, and meant every word.

The second to the last game had just ended—literally Gavin and Zach were still in the tunnel, following the players as they headed towards the locker room, when a figure peeled itself off the wall.

“Gavin,” the figure called out, and Zach looked over, pausing in his tracks as the guy joined them.

Of course it was Morgan Reynolds.

“Morgan,” Gavin said steadily, “what can I do for you?”

“Jacob mentioned Finn getting tomorrow off to rest for the playoff run, but that’s a mistake. You want him to be in the net tomorrow.”

“I do, huh?” Gavin asked, and Zach couldn’t tell if he was trying not to smile or trying not to throttle Finn’s dad.

“You want to set the record. You’ve just tied it. But if you don’t win tomorrow, you’re not the sole leader in the record books. You’d be just meeting history, not setting it.”

Gavin shoved his hands in his pockets, eyed Morgan up and down. “I’m so glad you’re here to tell me how to run my team,” he said bluntly.

Morgan’s face flushed dark red. “I’m—I’m right here. You know I’m right.”

They’d been up five to one at the end of the second period, and he and Gavin had already started to discuss that if the lead held, how they’d approach the next game .

Gavin had already told Zach that he was going to put Finn in.

Of course, they hadn’t had time to tell Finn that, yet.

“Are you right?” Gavin said casually.

Morgan squirmed, and that was impressive because he was famous for never flinching under pressure. But Gavin was making him squirm now, and it was impossible for Zach to ignore just how insanely fucking hot that was.

Even hotter was the fact when they finally got home tonight, if Zach told Gavin to get on his knees, he’d do it, gladly and gratefully, lust in his eyes and love in his touch.

“You know I am,” Morgan muttered. “You want to win tomorrow’s game.”

“We could win with Nick in the net,” Zach pointed out.

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Nothing against Nick, he’s a fine goalie, but he’s not Finn, and you guys both know it.”

“He’s solid, for sure,” Gavin said.

“He’s going to ask you himself. I know he will. He wants to play.” Morgan didn’t need to say it for both of them to know it.

Finn hadn’t been particularly into the idea of resting for the playoffs when Zach had broached the subject.

He wanted every start, every minute of experience, and Zach couldn’t blame him, because he was growing leaps and bounds every time he was in the net, his crisis of confidence solidly in the rearview mirror.

“I’m sure he will,” Gavin said. “And how’s he gonna feel when he finds out that you showed up here before we can even think about tomorrow’s game, demanding that we put him in?”

The red faded from Morgan’s face suddenly, bleaching it white. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything. God, no, don’t tell him. He’d be so pissed at me. ”

Gavin patted Morgan on the arm. “Your heart’s in the right place, but you’re kind of an asshole.”

Morgan sighed, clearly resigned. “I’m trying not to be.

” He glanced over at Zach and for the first time, really met his eyes.

Zach had always wondered if Morgan knew that he knew, but now he was sure.

It was all there, regret hard-coded in his gaze.

He didn’t know how to not be a dick. Not to his son. And not to Hayes.

“Well, do some more work on that,” Gavin said, patting him again.

“Thanks,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes.

When they headed into the locker room, without Morgan following them, Gavin turned to Zach. “You wanna go talk to him?”

“Finn?”

“Yeah. When the time seems right.”

“You could’ve told Morgan you’d already decided to put him in,” Zach pointed out.

Gavin just grinned. “And miss the opportunity to put that guy in his place? Hell no.”

They were still feeling out the limits of their relationship, in various locales, but this was the locker room—still a semi-sacred space where everyone who needed to know already knew they were together—and it felt very natural to lean in and press his lips against Gavin’s.

“You’re hot when you’re cutthroat,” he murmured against Gavin’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Gavin didn’t sound like he hated that at all.

“Oh yeah,” Zach said. “Gonna show you how much, later.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Historically, Gavin had always felt like teams were his . Technically he supposed the players were their own, and he could also possibly make the argument that the teams he’d coached also belonged to the leadership—guys who wore the C and the As.

But he’d never looked out across the ice, watching his players as they warmed up, and felt the weight of expectations and ownership settling over not just him, but someone else too.

Zach stood next to him, not only bearing half that weight but also half the joy. Taking and giving and sharing until he didn’t know where he ended and Zach began.