Page 49 of Breakaway Goals
Someone else grabbed the back of his jersey and he fought back, arms flinging out as he tried to avoid being dragged out of the scrum.
Morgan saw a flash of blue and then the white of a number. Shit. That was Hayes. He’d dragged Morgan out with a surprising amount of strength and then instead of keeping both their distance, he was in there, gloves gone, doling out hits on Bennett like he fought all the fucking time.
“Holy shit.” That was definitely Danny screaming, right into his ear.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Morgan growled. “Get him out of there!”
Danny shot him a strange look and shoved his way in, right next to the refs who were unsuccessfully trying to break it up.
Less than a minute later they had, and to Morgan’s shock, they dragged only him and Bennett to the box.
Positive: his stupidity hadn’t meant the Canadians got a man advantage. Negative: he had two minutes in the box to try to calm down which also meant two minutes for overthinking.
Yeah, Bennett’s hit had been unquestionably shitty. Not surprising, but still shitty. He shouldn’t have reacted. Clearly Danny and Hayes had noticed he was riding the edge of his temper on the bench which was exactly why they’d warned him.
But if that was true, if it was onlyhisfrayed self-control, why had Monty jumped in like that? Monty, who was known for avoiding fights, had pulled him out of it only to put himself in with gloves off.
Morgan didn’t have a chance to say anything to him during the rest of the period, once he was out of the bin, because when their line wasn’t on the ice, the trainers had him down on the opposite end of the bench, giving him ice for his knuckles and patching up a little cut on his cheek that seemed to be persistently bleeding.
He thought,when we get to the locker room, I’m gonna read him the fucking riot act for that bullshit, but then he couldn’t because Coach was up there, diagraming out some new plays for them to try, to get that extra goal or two. Talking up the defense, reminding everyone that theyallhad to be two-way players to win this game.
On the way back to the ice for the third, he tried catching Monty’s attention. “Hey,” he hissed under his breath, but Hayes only glanced back at him briefly before turning his attention back to the end of the tunnel and the ice at the end of it.
“Don’t be pissed at him,” Danny said to him in passing as they skated on.
“Iampissed at him,” Morgan said, but the truth was, his feelings were a hell of a lot more complicated than just anger.
Morgan wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up once the game started again. They needed to be locked in, and Morgan didn’t need to say a word about that, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen Hayes’ expression so intense.
Midway through the third, Danny passed Hayes the puck, and Hayes just put his head down, and Morgan, playing interference with Makar, saw exactly what normally made him such a stellar first line center. He just took the puck and made the play, skirting around another Canadian defenseman and then shooting it, maybe half a second before Morgan would’ve done it. But if Morgan had shot it, he was pretty sure Binnington would’ve blocked it, but the goalie wasn’t in position yet, and Hayes slid it right past him.
It was a sick goal—the kind of goal people would talk about forever.
Didn’t win them the tournament, but it won them the game, even when the Canadians managed to get a last-minute goal at the end of the third.
“That’s fucking right,” Danny yelled in the locker room, pounding Hayes on the shoulder. Hayes grinned up at him. Morgan knew he should go over. It had been a great goal, and the way he’d pressed against Hayes when they’d cellied about on the ice hadn’t been enough.
But there was a part of him that was still pissed.That,that beautiful fucking goal, was why Hayes was on the fucking team. Not to take punches. Not to dole them back out, in Morgan’s honor.
He was just about to go over to Hayes and say exactly that.Good fucking job but what the fuck were you thinking?when one of the PR staff showed up with a dozen reporters in tow.
Of course there was no way around it but to just do it. That wasn’t his only job as captain here but it was a big part of it. As much as Morgan hated it, he couldn’t avoid it. He had to wipe the sweat off his face and go stare down reporters. Answer their stupid fucking questions. Try not to say anything that would play into one of the annoying narratives they liked to harp on constantly. He couldn’t stop them from making up shit, but he could make sure he never said anything that made it easier for them to do it.
By the time it was finally,finallyover, Hayes was nowhere to be seen.
“Mo’s gonna tear you a new one,” Danny said to him as they walked to the bus.
“I think it’s a little more complicated than that,” Hayes said. Hoping that he wasn’t lying to himself. He’d seen flashes of Morgan’s face throughout the third, ever since he’d waded into that fight for him. Then after, when he’d scored the goal.
Danny shot him a dubious look. “If you think so.”
“Ihopeso,” Hayes said. If Morgan asked him what the fuck he’d been thinking in the second period, when he should’ve let Danny and the other guys who were much more experienced in these kinds of fights handle it, Hayes still didn’t know how he was going to answer.
Danny sent him another baffled look and settled into his seat.
Whathadhe been thinking?
The thing was, thinking had not really entered into the equation.
