Page 79 of Breakaway Goals
Hayes didn’t tell Barty that his hot start to the season probably wasn’t sustainable because Barty had been doing this long enough he knew it wasn’t. But leading the league in points and being top three in goals sure didn’t hurt.
“Okay,” Hayes said, trying to calm the panic that was bubbling away inside him.
Barty patted him on the shoulder. “Thereissomething else we can do.”
Hayes was immediately suspicious. “What is it?”
“Own the court of opinion.”
Yeah, he was really going to hate whatever came out of Barty’s mouth next. “How?”
“As I’m sure you know, your new goalie’s dad is on ESPN practically every other day. We should get him on your side.”
Yep. Hayes pretty much fucking hated it. “No,” he said flatly.
“Are you joking? You have a solid fucking gold opportunity to havethebiggest hockey player in the last few decades talking you up, telling everyone how you’ve taken Finn under your wing, how good of a captain you are, how well you lead this team, and you’re not going to take it?”
Common wisdom said you were supposed to tell your agent everything—all your dirty secrets, all the shit you’d done that you wanted to stay under wraps, every mistake you’d made, starting at the age of twelve. Every stupid tweet. Every scrap you’d ever gotten into with a teammate.
There wasn’t much dirty laundry in Hayes’ closet. With the exception of the Morgan Reynolds affair. And that was, of course, the one thing he’d never told Barty about.
“This is non-negotiable,” Hayes said in a tight voice. “No Morgan Reynolds.”
At the time, and directly after, it had hurt so much, been so humiliating and painful that Hayes hadn’t been sure he could even talk about it. By the time he thought he might have some objective space from the whole mess, it hadn’t made any sense to tell Barty. It was over, it wassoover.
Even when fate had decided it hated him and Finn had been drafted by the Sentinels, Hayes had known it was years before he’d possibly end up on a team with the kid. And even that was hardly a guarantee.
Barty stared. “Why the fuck not? Hayes, I don’t have to tell you—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Hayes interrupted. “But we’re not doing it.” Hayes could tolerate a lot of things—and he had a feeling that this season would probably test the limit—but he couldn’t stomach asking Morgan to talk him up to the press.
“What’s your issue with Reynolds? I thought all first overalls were all buddy-buddy and shit? And what about Four Nations, when you played on the same line?”
“No,” Hayes said steadily. He knew the risk of being so hard-assed and circumspect about his reasons why. Barty could be insatiably curious with a stubborn streak developed over way too many years working with professional hockey players.
“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” Barty sounded testy now. “We’ve always been honest with each other, Monty.”
Hayeshadbeen honest, otherwise. Barty hadn’t been the first person he’d told he was gay, but he was the fourth—after his parents, and Oscar Garcia, who he’d hooked up with when he played for the Otters.
“You of all people know how fucking weird it gets, being seen as the heir apparent,” Hayes said. “I don’t want to give that story any more fuel than it already has.”
Barty shot him a look. “Are you joking? Italreadyhas fuel. The fact that Morgan’s son is on your team has given it new life.”
“And I don’t want to give it any more,” Hayes said, closing the door with as much certainty as he could.
“You’re going to change your mind,” Barty warned.
“I really don’t think I will,” Hayes said.
Zach called three times before Hayes finally picked up.
He’d been outside, lying on one of his loungers by the pool, sulking, since he’d gotten home from the marina.
Plausible deniability, he was taking advantage of a rare day off by working on his tan in the late afternoon sunshine.
Reality was a whole different kettle of fish, which was why he’d avoided Zach’s calls.
But finally Zach texted him,I’m pretty sure you’re avoiding me, and that says more than you telling me the goddamn truth about how you’re doing.
