Page 99 of Breakaway Goals
Morgan wanted to laugh. Maybe cry. But he followed Finn into Hayes’ house, anyway.
He’d been to enough of these that the kitchen full of rowdy hockey players, joking and jostling as they descended on the pizza boxes laid across the countertop, didn’t faze him. Hayes stood in front of an enormous stainless steel refrigerator, handing out bottles of water and beer and laughing.
He hung back, letting Finn go ahead and greet Hayes. Grab a few slices of pizza. But then after he’d done that there was nothing in the way, no reason for them not to look at each other.
Morgan knew the moment their eyes met, and he wanted to pretend he imagined the complicated look that crossed Hayes face, before it was wiped clean. But he didn’t think he had.
“Hey,” Morgan said, shoving his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch. “I . . .uh . . .Finn said I should come.”
Hayes looked at him, his eyes annoyingly opaque, not giving anything away. “You want something to drink? I’ve got some beer. Water. Um. Gatorade?”
“A beer’s fine.”
“Lars will be around in a minute. He stopped by his house for more supplies. I don’t drink much in the season.” Hayes pulled a beer out of the fridge and then swiped a hand through his loose, damp hair.
Morgan’s fingers tingled. He’d done that once. Remembered, too well, tangling his hand in Hayes’ hair. With desire and desperation. And with fondness.
“Smart.” Guys today were so much smarter than they’d been even fifteen years ago.
“Em—Lars’ wife—helps me out a lot. Since you know . . .” Hayes made a face. Another one of those complicated looks passed over his face. Morgan wanted to tell him it was okay. That nobody cared if Hayes didn’t have a partner to take on the traditional head WAG duties. “Since I’ve been single basically forever.”
Hayes’ voice was wry. Almost pained. He opened the beer and slid it over the counter towards Morgan.
“You weren’t once.” God, they weren’t going to talk about this now, were they? With half a hockey team ten feet away, including his son, eating through a small pizzeria’s worth of takeout?
Apparently yes.
“Yeah, that didn’t exactly work out the way I hoped.” Hayes pushed his hair back again and sighed.
“If he wasn’t willing to stick around when it was hard, he wasn’t worth you.”
Hayes looked shocked. “Are you really—no, actually, Icanbelieve you’d be the one saying this.”
Morgan shrugged, picking up the beer. If he was using his own rubric, thenhedidn’t deserve to be within a hundred feet of Hayes. But he could be better. Hewouldbe better.
Yes, he’d fucked up, but he was smart enough to realize he’d done it, and he was going to make it right. That asshole who’d dumped Hayes hadn’t been bright enough to realize what he’d lost.
Morgan had spent every moment of the last six years knowing.
“You’re unbelievable,” Hayes said, not even sounding mad.
“He was an idiot.” Morgan lowered his voice. “I wasalsoan idiot.”
Hayes stared at him, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A second later, he turned back towards the fridge and pulled out a second beer. Opened it, took a very long drink.
“I thought you didn’t typically drink during the season,” Morgan said.
Hayes’ gaze was hot. With anger? With something else? Morgan didn’t know. But it wasstillbetter than that flat expression Morgan couldn’t interpret. “I decided to make an exception.”
Morgan nodded, like it all made sense. Like he was used to driving people to drink.
Danny would have told him right now that heshouldbe.
Jacob would’ve agreed with him.
God, why did all his friends suck?
“Makes . . .uh . . .sense,” Morgan said.
