Page 6

“You ever going to tell me how it went?” Hayes asked lazily, shoving a hand through his damp hair, leaving it sticking straight up in little wet spikes.

They were in Hayes’ outside pool, soaking up the sun.

Zach had been here in Florida nearly six hours, and he was impressed that Hayes had waited that long to ask.

“I . . .there’s nothing to say,” Zach said, even though that was the biggest lie he’d ever told his best friend.

There was a whole fucking lot to say.

Gavin invited me into his house. Made me dinner. Practically cuddled with me on the couch. We almost—oh my God—kissed. And then he panicked, and the next morning it was like nothing had happened. He made me breakfast and then sent me on my way.

And in the last moment, when I was getting in the car, he compressed his lips together, shoved his hands into his pockets, and wouldn’t look me in the eye when he said that he wasn’t going to take the job.

It was a whole lot.

So much that Zach’s hands had been shaking on the wheel as he’d driven out of the woods. So much that when he’d gotten to the airport, he’d convinced the nice lady in Traverse City to rebook his ticket from Portland to Tampa.

He’d come straight to Hayes. To tell him everything? To tell him something, certainly. Zach had never hidden anything from Hayes.

But it turned out he didn’t know how to even begin telling this story.

“What the fuck, man, you come out here all of a sudden, and now you won’t even tell me why?” Hayes didn’t sound mad though. He sounded worried.

Maybe he should be.

Zach’s hands had stopped shaking, but his insides hadn’t.

Every time he thought about that five minutes on the couch, after he’d showed Gavin the game film, he quivered like a tree in a storm.

It shouldn’t have been like that. It had never been like that before.

Sure, Zach had hero-worshipped Gavin. He’d had the unfortunate crush.

But it had never felt like it could ever go anywhere.

Even after Gavin’s wife had died, he’d never once thought, oh, now he’s free, something might happen.

First, because Gavin had clearly been too devastated.

Second, he’d never appeared to see Zach as anything but his player.

And then there was the minor fact that Gavin had never said he was interested in guys like that.

He’d definitely never appeared to be interested in Zach like that.

“It didn’t go how I expected it would go,” Zach finally said .

Hayes made a face. “Well, no shit. So you made it onto the porch, huh?”

“I made it into the house. I . . .I spent the night.”

Hayes’ jaw dropped. “You didn’t freaking sleep with Gavin Blackburn. Tell me you didn’t.”

“No, no .” Zach laughed self-consciously. “No, of course not. I was on the couch. It wasn’t . . .it wasn’t like that.”

Hayes punched him in the arm lightly. “I was about to give you about a hundred high fives and then lecture you about what a terrible fucking idea that would be.”

“Awful,” Zach agreed.

It was one thing to say it out loud. It was another to believe it, deep down, though.

“You always had a ridiculous hockey crush on the guy.”

“Kind of like the one you had on Morgan Reynolds?”

Hayes punched him again, harder this time.

“And that’s why I’d be giving you the lecture,” Hayes said. He didn’t sound as bitter as he usually did. More resigned.

Zach shouldn’t have brought up Morgan. He was a sore spot, always, with Hayes. Zach couldn’t even blame him, considering what he knew about what had happened between them.

“And don’t think I missed that you’re trying to distract me,” Hayes continued. “You stayed the night on his couch? I can’t fucking believe it. Nobody’s ever made it to the porch before.”

“He was never going to shoot me.” Wasn’t ever going to shoot anyone. If they actually thought that, they were stupid enough they didn’t deserve Gavin, anyway.

“Not you,” Hayes agreed. He was quiet for a long moment, floating in the water. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, and his expression was thoughtful, but opaque. “I’m guessing despite you two becoming reacquainted, he’s not taking the job.”

“No,” Zach said quietly. He hadn’t texted Sidney Swift yet, but it was only a matter of time. He should’ve already done it. It wasn’t like Gavin was going to change his mind.

He’d gotten everything he was ever going to get from Gavin Blackburn, and frankly, Zach knew he should be happy about it. It was more than he could’ve possibly expected.

But it still sucked.

“Not surprised,” Hayes said. “But you gave it a solid effort. B+, I’d say.”

“Do I wanna know what I’d have had to do to get an A?”

Hayes turned, fingers latching onto the edge of the pool. “Seduced him, maybe? Though that wouldn’t have convinced him to take the job. Probably would’ve freaked him out. Big gay freakout, for sure. And then probably the big widower freakout—”

“That’s not a thing,” Zach interrupted.

“Oh, it’s totally a thing. And then even after all those freakouts, he definitely wouldn’t have taken the job.”

“Thanks, Monty. That’s super helpful,” Zach said dryly. “I can see why the Sentinels send you on so many recruiting trips.”

Hayes shrugged. “You show him Jones and McCoy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, A- then. But that’s as good as you’re getting.”

Zach smacked him on the shoulder. “You’re such an overperforming, overachieving asshole. Do you ever turn it off?”

“Baby, you know I don’t,” Hayes said, batting his eyelashes in Zach’s direction .

“You’re the worst.”

“Which is why you came to me ,” Hayes said knowingly.

“Maybe I missed you.”

“Bullshit,” Hayes retorted. “So did the most brilliant genius coach in the universe have any super special insights on Jones and McCoy?”

“No,” Zach said. And okay, sue him. He did think Gavin was the most brilliant genius coach in the universe with all the super special insights. It wasn’t really fair of Hayes to bring that up, but then he’d brought up Hayes’ ex-fling, so possibly they were even now.

“No? Not even one? Well, that’s disappointing. I thought maybe he might agree with me,” Hayes said.

“They’re not fucking,” Zach said.

“But they want to be,” Hayes said knowingly.

“That’s your theory.”

“You have to admit it’s a good theory. You showed me the game. The one where they started on the same line for the first time? It was like Jones finally thought he could make McCoy pay attention to him.” Hayes shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never felt that way before.”

He had. He had. Too many times when he’d been in college, for those two years, when Gavin had been his coach. He’d wanted his eyes on him more than he’d wanted to breathe sometimes.

But was that Elliott?

If it was, it could backfire so spectacularly. Zach had figured out how to find that edge without Gavin coaching him, but everyone couldn’t do that. You had to do more to make it than play good hockey to impress a cute boy .

“You know I have.” Zach told himself not to say it, but he said it anyway. “And so have you.”

“Yeah, which is why I said it,” Hayes said calmly.

“It could be catastrophic,” Zach said. It wasn’t the first time Hayes had suggested this theory, but Zach had been more willing to dismiss it outright.

But it was harder today, because he’d just been forcibly reminded of how strong that pull could be.

Despite knowing better, despite knowing everything he did about Gavin and his situation, when they’d been on the couch together last night, he’d have gone along with anything Gavin wanted.

And it had been years .

“Isn’t that your job? To figure that shit out?” Hayes wondered.

Zach made a face. “Yeah.”

Hayes fell quiet after that, and Zach drifted in the pool, enjoying the sun and the water and the quiet companionship he always had with Hayes. But he still found it hard to force his mind to dismiss last night from his memory.

He wanted to hang onto it, to build a castle around it, to assign it a meaning it didn’t deserve.

Maybe he should tell Hayes. Hayes would set him straight. Tell him flatly that there was no future and he needed to get over it.

But before he could, Hayes turned to him. “Did you think I couldn’t handle talking about it?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Zach said, but it was mostly a lie.

“I saw the transfer,” Hayes said bluntly .

“Please tell me you don’t still have him on Google alert,” Zach said. “If you do, I’ll have to stage an intervention— another intervention—and we know how well that went last time.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hayes grumbled.

“You ended up with some guy you didn’t even really like, who made you come out of the closet to prove some bullshit about how committed you were. And then he dumped you.”

“Thanks for that reminder,” Hayes said dryly. “And the answer is no , I do not have Morgan on Google alert. Or Finn, for that matter. A teammate told me.”

“A teammate who doesn’t know?”

“You forget, nobody knows,” Hayes reminded him. “Just you.”

“And him,” Zach said, even though that was not exactly helpful.

“I don’t know, it was a long time ago,” Hayes said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Maybe he’s forgotten about it.”

Zach smacked him in the arm. “Don’t get all moody and melancholy, okay? This is why I didn’t bring it up—”

“So you weren’t telling me,” Hayes said triumphantly.

“I can’t believe you,” Zach said. “Of course I didn’t tell you. You get all weird every time Reynolds comes up.”

“This is his son, and he’s transferring to the college you’re coaching at. We should talk about it.” Hayes glanced over at him.

“How is this any different than the Sentinels drafting him? You’re gonna have to face him someday.”

“ Someday ,” Hayes said knowingly. He didn’t need to add that so many things could happen to players in development. Finn might never make it to the NHL. Never make it to the Sentinels. Hayes might never have to face the son of the man he’d fallen wildly in love with.

Zach shrugged. “Just like I said on draft night, what is there to talk about? I know you’re like—”