Page 2 of Breakaway Goals
Sure, his voice had been unsure, almost questioning, but when Morgan met his eyes, he was surprised at how direct they were. A clear green, almost fierce, and staring right at Morgan.
Like he was daring Morgan to see him.
Huh. That was interesting.
The hair prickled on the back of Morgan’s neck.
“What’s up?” Morgan asked, realizing that he’d just beenstaring. Staring and not saying anything, like a complete idiot.
“I just . . .” Hayes shrugged. “You wanna grab some coffee or something? We’ve got a few hours until we have to be on the ice for practice . . .”
Morgan did not want to share a coffee with Hayes Montgomery. If he did, it was going to become a whole fucking thing, the chosen one and the next one hanging out, and that was a whole level of obligation he didn’t want to deal with.
But also . . .Hayeswasgoing to be playing on Morgan’s wing. Maybe they could keep the conversation solely on hockey and on the plan Morgan had heard about during the dinner he’d had with the coaching staff last night.
“We could do that,” Morgan said.
Tyler Thompson was going to be the head coach, and he’d brought in an old friend, Gavin Blackburn, who’d coached mostly at the collegiate level but was now with the Seattle Sea Monsters, to assist him.
Both Thompson and Blackburn seemed to believe the team would have plenty of fire power; they were more concerned about how all the different puzzle pieces would come together.
Hayes’ face broke into a big smile, lighting his eyes up even more, and that prickle on the back of Morgan’s neck itched again. “Yeah? That would be so freaking great. I’m—”
Morgan had to cut this off before the guy drove him crazy. “Yeah, only great if you stop looking at me like you’re going to fall to your knees and worship me.”
It was kind of an asshole thing to say—maybe a better man than Morgan would’ve just accepted the uncomfortable squeeze at the base of his stomach every time Hayes gazed up at him like he was hockey Jesus—but even the slightly asshole flavor didn’t explain the way Hayes went so pale. Morgan reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him.
“Who told you?” he asked under his breath, going from looking happy and excited to anxious only a second later.
“Who told me what?” Morgan didn’t want to be concerned, but it was hard to look into those green eyes, full of apprehension, and not worry.
Maybe he’d only be Hayes’ captain for ten days, but he was still technically Hayes’ captain, and the instinct was too ingrained for Morgan to resist.
“Who told you?” Hayes asked again, this time his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
“Told me what?” If Hayes was going to repeat the question, then so was he.
“About—” Hayes broke off and waved at himself. “That I like, you know . . .men.”
Morgan jolted. He hadn’t even thought about how his words could be interpreted. Finn, who was queer too, would be seriously judging him right now, and while he couldn’t say healwaysdeserved that look in his son’s eyes, he’d have deserved it this time.
“Shit, man, nobody did. I didn’t know. I was just . . .” A wave of shame crashed over him as he rubbed his neck. “I was just talking shit.”
“Oh.Oh.” Hayes’ eyes were very wide now.
“Yeah.”
“Well, uh . . .”
“It’s alright, you know? I won’t tell anyone. I’m an ass, but I’m a circumspect ass, at least. My son, Finn—”
“I know Finn, orofhim, rather,” Hayes said, nodding.
“So you know, I’m not gonna be shitty about it.” Morgan winced. “Other than what I stupidly said just now.”
“It wasn’t that stupid.Iwas being dumb and paranoid,” Hayes said, looking like he was five seconds away from apologizing toMorgan. That was crazy, because he’d been gunning for the opposite, to remind Hayes that Morgan wasn’t that great. That he didn’t really need to gaze at him like he was Wayne Gretzky and Bobby Hull wrapped up in one single player.
“Really—it’s fine.” Morgan didn’t love that he’d put his foot into it, because he never loved when he did that. It was bad enough that most of the other NHL players he knew totally fit the dumb hockey stereotype. Always more brawn than brain.
