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They handed Gavin the trophy first.

He knew there was a protocol to these things—he’d literally sat through the meeting where they’d described to him and the opposing coach how the end of the final championship game would work, so everyone would know what to do, win or lose.

But Gavin didn’t give a shit about protocols.

He wanted to share this win with his team. With Zach .

Not in five minutes. Not when it was deigned “permissible” to pass the trophy around. Now , damn it.

He waited ten seconds, which he personally felt was about nine seconds too long, so the press corps could get their photos, and then he turned to Zach, their hands brushing.

There was a press release sitting in the Evergreens’ head of PR’s outbox, ready to hit send whenever Gavin decided he was ready.

Staring at Zach’s perfect, private smile today, as the anarchy of winning surrounded them, Gavin realized that he’d been ready, and there was no reason to wait anymore.

“We’re the champs, baby!” Elliott screamed to his left, Mal laughing so hard he almost drowned him out.

But Gavin couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything else but Zach. He leaned in and kissed him.

Zach’s mouth was warm and tasted like the Gatorade he’d been rolling around in his hands during the last intermission as he’d sketched out the power play design that had won them the game, Ivan from the faceoff to Ramsey to Elliott, hanging around on the other side of the net, so quick that the goalie hadn’t had a moment to even get in position.

That had been four minutes left in the game, and because of Elliott’s goal, there’d been no overtime, because they’d held the lead, Ramsey and Brody skating the last shift with as much purpose as they’d skated the first, protecting Finn and their net like it wasn’t just the game on the line, but their lives.

Zach’s mouth moved against his, with intent, and the rest of the noise around them faded away.

Gavin was pretty sure someone yelled, “Get it, Coach!”

It might’ve been Ramsey. Honestly, it was probably Ramsey.

Gavin smiled against Zach’s mouth and then pulled back, their hands against each other on the trophy.

He didn’t even have to ask Zach, it just felt natural to turn to that voice and pass it onto him, sweat and what Gavin thought might be tears, dripping down Ramsey’s face as he hoisted the trophy up, skating out onto the middle of the ice, the rest of the team streaming behind him, all fist pumps and supportive screams.

“We did it,” Zach said, and Gavin nodded, because he’d never heard anything more right in his whole life. Not, I did it, or you did it, but we did it, together .

“It’s gonna be like this forever,” Gavin told him. “Us. ”

“Even when someone tries to hire me away?” Zach teased.

“Someone tries to hire you away, they’re getting a package deal,” Gavin said. Maybe it was crazy. But he never wanted to do this alone again, not without Zach.

Zach didn’t argue, he just glowed, affection and fondness pouring out from his expression. “Us, together,” he said, and Gavin had never heard anything better in his whole goddamn life.

Even the final buzzer today, giving them the championship win.

June

The air was slow and muggy, Zach moving through it like his limbs were coated in honey.

He and Gavin had been up at the cabin for over a week now but he couldn’t say that he was even remotely used to the intense humidity yet. Maybe he wouldn’t ever get used to it.

Zach tugged out the shirt that he’d tucked into the waistband of his shorts and used it to wipe his face then his sweaty chest. He’d just been on a long run, thinking that with the sun falling lower in the sky, the heat would be less of a problem.

That had been wishful thinking and he was imagining a long, cold shower and an even colder beer, in that order.

When he turned the corner and the cabin came into view, he saw Gavin on the porch, bare legs stretched out in front of him, and clearly he’d had the same idea because there was a fresh beer, condensation sliding down the bottle, on the small table next to him.

His head was tipped back, eyes closed, but the moment Zach opened the squeaky screen door, his gaze met Zach’s.

“Hey,” Gavin said. “Have a good run?”

“Ugh, no. It’s hot as fuck out,” Zach complained, leaning against one of the columns of the porch, debating if Gavin would argue if he just stole his beer for himself instead of going all the way in the house to grab one.

“Hey, your choice to go now instead of going this morning,” Gavin pointed out. He lifted the beer and took a long drink, his throat working as he swallowed. His skin had already begun to darken, though he wasn’t quite as tan as he’d been last June when Zach had shown up at the cabin uninvited.

“Yeah, can’t imagine what I was doing this morning instead of dragging my ass outside for a run,” Zach shot back, grinning.

This morning they’d been tucked up in Gavin’s double bed together, legs tangled together, enjoying the silence and each other.

The long, slow kisses they’d exchanged had felt sweet and soft, too precious to break up to get out of bed except for anything but the most pressing reason—and going for a run definitely hadn’t been on the list.

“It was good,” Gavin agreed, smiling. He handed the bottle to Zach, who took it and finished it off. “I was thinking about starting dinner. Throwing some chicken and veggies on the grill.”

“Sounds good,” Zach said. He needed to take a shower, still, but he didn’t move yet. It felt too good, too right, to be standing here on the porch, nearly a year to the day since he’d done it the first time.

Back then, he’d been a mess, worried and anxious and more than a little terrified his old crush was making a valiant comeback, but now all he felt was a bone-deep satisfaction. Happy in a way he’d never imagined being and now couldn’t imagine being without.

“Your phone buzzed a bunch of times,” Gavin mentioned. “I glanced at the screen. It was Pat.”

Pat was still Zach’s agent and never knew when to just leave a good thing alone. Zach groaned.

“He still fielding offers?” Gavin wondered, his voice carefully neutral.

Zach knew what Gavin had said a few months back, when they’d won the championship, but he’d wondered at the time if Gavin really meant it.

“Yeah,” Zach said.

Their relationship was still pretty new, and Zach was honestly still satisfied enough being Gavin’s assistant that he felt no reason to even bother entertaining any of the offers Pat was getting.

But that wouldn’t always be the case. Someday he might want to try being a head coach on his own, and when that happened, what was Gavin going to do?

Just follow him, like a puppy dog? Become his assistant?

Zach didn’t know, and maybe that was okay.

They didn’t need to have all the answers, especially to questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to ask yet.

“You know you can talk to him about them, right?” Gavin asked hesitantly.

Too hesitantly. Like he thought Zach was already ready to move on.

And yes since he’d retired from the NHL, it felt like every single year had seen him moving on, moving up .

But he wasn’t ready to keep doing that now.

Where he was at felt right, so right, and not just because of Gavin.

He had more to learn, and he didn’t feel even remotely ready to shoulder a whole team, even if it was college or juniors, and the best place to learn was at Gavin’s elbow.

“Of course I know. I just . . .there’s no reason to do it yet. I’m not ready. You know I’m not ready.”

Gavin scrunched up his face. “I don’t know if I’d say you’re not ready, because you’re already a great coach, but yeah, I can’t say I’m eager for you to move on.”

He shouldn’t ask. Hadn’t he just thought that they didn’t need all the answers right now? But he asked the question anyway. “What would you do if I did?”

Gavin lifted himself out of the chair and wrapped a hand around Zach’s waist, tipping his face up. “I meant it,” he said softly. “I love you. Where you go, I’m going. But that’s not why I said it.”

“I’m . . .” Zach felt a little breathless, the happiness punching him right in the solar plexus. “I’m good where we’re at. Really good.”

Gavin nodded his agreement. “I don’t want to leave either. We’re doing good work in Portland. Can do some more, next year and the year after. But I don’t want to hold you back, either.”

“You’d never,” Zach said.

Gavin smiled then, slow and knowing. “It’s probably gonna have to be me kicking you out of the nest, if we’re being honest. ”

“Probably.” Zach chuckled. Gavin probably would think he was ready before Zach himself thought he was. “And then what are you gonna do? Become my assistant?”

“Yeah. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Gavin’s expression was totally serious.

It did. But Zach hadn’t thought he was necessarily in earnest but it appeared he was.

“Listen,” Gavin added, “I don’t care what I do.

I don’t have an ego that way. I don’t give a shit who they say is in charge, officially.

I could care less if some media asshole theorizes that I’m regressing or taking a position that isn’t as important, or whatever.

I want to be with you and I want hockey.

That’s it. I’ve learned what’s important and yeah, don’t get me wrong, the accolades are nice. I like winning. But I love you more.”

Zach pressed his mouth against Gavin’s. It was easy and hot and sweet. “Love you more, too,” he agreed, pulling back a fraction. “Might be fun, too, to boss you around.”

Gavin grinned, his smile suddenly turning filthy. He kissed Zach again, nibbling with his teeth on his bottom lip, making Zach groan. “Don’t need a new job title to do that .”

-

I loved writing this universe and hockey so much I couldn't stop here – don't miss Hayes and Morgan's standalone book, Breakaway Goals , coming late summer 2025.