Page 55 of Breakaway Goals
“I know,” Hayes said. And he’d known why, objectively. Understood, even though it had sort of stung, deep down. He’dgotten it, and he’d gotten it even more when Morgan had admitted that Hayes made him feel old. Washed-up. Like his career was essentially over.
“I’m just saying, what are you two doing?” Danny questioned. “If you don’t come out of this like . . .super committed, what are youdoing?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Hayes said bluntly. “He lives in New York. I live in California. It’s not . . .it’s just not happening. It’s been fun, it’s been—”
“Bullshit,” Danny said bluntly. “I see the way you two look at each other. I’m your fucking line mate. I have to see it. I can’tavoidseeing it.”
“It is what it is,” Hayes said.
“And so what, Morgan extolling your praises before the game tonight is, what, just him being nice? Him having fun? You havemetMorgan Reynolds, haven’t you?”
Hayes leaned over and picked up his bag. He didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for this conversation. It was hard enough keeping things light and uncomplicated around Morgan when his feelings felt increasingly involved without having to answer Danny’s pointed questions.
“Yeah, I have. But we’ve got a game to play, Danny. You know that.”
Danny shot him an incredulous look, but couldn’t really argue with him, because itwastrue.
Right now, they had to head back to the hotel, take their nap, eat dinner, and then get ready for the championship game.
Tomorrow afternoon, he’d be flying back to California, and this whole insane interlude would—probably—be over.
He and Morgan hadn’t talked about it. They’d specificallynottalked about it. Not two nights ago when Morgan had stayed over, and not last night, when Hayes had ended up in Morgan’s bed.
The sex was really good. The conversation was unexpectedly amazing, just talking to someone whogotit. Who understood the very specific pressure cooker they both existed inside. But anything else was asking for a miracle that wasn’t happening.
Hayes wasn’t stupid enough to wish for it.
“When and if you wanna talk about it,” Danny said as they made their way to the team bus, “you just holler, okay?”
Hayes didn’t imagine he wasevergoing to want to talk about it. He was going to want to do the opposite, probably. Pretend it had never happened. Move on, somehow, and denial seemed the most likely avenue to make that possible.
There were a handful of texts from Zach on his phone when he woke up from his pregame nap.
I just saw Mo talking you up. Think you’ve made a fan for life, Monty.
Then,Holy shit, he was REALLY talking you up. You recovered yet? You still alive, under all those crushing feelings?
And finally,Good luck in the game today, you’re gonna freaking kill it. And that’s not just the Morgan in me talking, it’s the Zach in me believing it’s true :)
Hayes didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to have even twenty-five percent of this conversation with Danny, nevermind Zach.
Thanks,he finally sent as he headed downstairs, suit on, to have dinner before they headed to the arena.
It was better than him sending nothing, but there was no question it would tip Zach off that he was kind of a mess.
How many years had he wanted an acknowledgment from Morgan of his game and his skill? Too many. And now he’d finally gotten it and it tasted fucking bitter in the back of his throat.
He knew Morgan meant it. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise, but the circumstances were fucking him up.
And like Morgan somehow knew it, he kept his distance during dinner, sitting on the other end, chatting with Bram and the coaching staff.
Hayes sat with Danny, who kept shooting him knowing looks, and Noah and Cal, and shoveled chicken and pasta into his mouth, not tasting a single molecule of it.
Morgan didn’t approach him until they were in the locker room. He’d been making his rounds as everyone warmed up and then geared up, doing his good captain routine, dropping encouraging words and last-minute advice into their teammates’ ears.
Hayesdidnotice that Morgan saved him for last—or nearly last, because he’d also noticed that during Morgan’s rotation he’d yet to head over to where Jacob sat in his stall, locked-in expression serious.
“Hey,” Morgan said, gazing down at him.
