Breakaway Goals, page 32
“Thanks, babe,” Hayes said, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “And if I didn’t say it sufficiently, I’m really, really glad you were here when I got home.”
“It wasn’t overstepping?”
“I literally invited you to let yourself in tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t tomorrow morning,” Morgan said because of course he was that literal.
Hayes shot him a look as he climbed into bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted you to stay the night before you left. I even gave you crap about it. I sent you a naked picture, even. I was surprised, but it was the best kind of surprise.”
“Good.” Morgan settled in next to him, pulling him in close. Hayes went easily, resting his head on Morgan’s chest, enjoying the way Morgan’s hands played with the edges of his still-damp hair.
For a long moment, Hayes thought he’d go to sleep, but then Morgan said, “You talk to Jasper?”
“After the game? Yeah.”
“It was a good shot,” Morgan said.
It had been. But they’d split the road trip, which wasn’t easy on a back-to-back.
“Yeah, I told him that,” Hayes said.
“You guys are playing lights out right now.” This wasn’t that much different from the compliments Morgan gave Hayes over text during the games, but it felt a little more pointed. Like there was something else he wanted to say.
“Yeah?”
Hayes shouldn’t have even wondered if Morgan would say the rest of what was on his mind. This was Morgan, after all.
“The Sentinels should be falling all over themselves to give you whatever contract you want.”
Hayes should have guessed this was what Morgan was getting at. He supposed it was inevitable that they were going to have to talk about it. Maybe Jacob had even mentioned their conversation during golf to Morgan. They were friends now, after all.
“They don’t want to give me the years I want,” Hayes said. He wanted to pull back, to get a little distance, suddenly, but he had a feeling Morgan wouldn’t let him squirm out of this.
“The money’s good?”
“Hm, yeah, basically. Just not the years.” Hayes tried to remember the last text Barty had sent about their negotiations. It had annoyed him so he’d tried not to dwell on it.
“Would you take less?” Morgan wondered.
Every time he’d tried to say something like that to Barty, Barty had freaked out. Ranted about how Hayes was worth more, and Hayes should know his own worth. And he did. He didn’t need the Sentinels to tell him what he was worth. He knew it already.
But this was Morgan, not Barty, and Morgan would understand, probably better than anyone else.
“Yeah,” Hayes said softly. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to test the market. I want . . .what I want is to stay here. To win another Cup, here. Not somewhere else.”
“They should want that too. They probably do want that too,” Morgan said and his words were gentle but fierce. Full of belief.
“I want to retire here.” It felt good to admit it out loud. “Like you did with the Bandits. You never played anywhere else.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Morgan said bluntly. “And you’re good enough, Monty, you shouldn’t either.”
“I know,” Hayes said, and that was the pebble in the shoe of the whole argument. He knew how good he was. How many other teams would want him and want him still.
Morgan stroked his shoulder, reassuringly. “I don’t need to say it, but I should. Doesn’t matter where you end up. Even if you’re not on this team. Even if you’re not playing with Finn. I’m with you, as long as you want me.”
Hayes nearly said, so, forever? But that was insane. They hadn’t even been dating a month yet. But still. He’d loved Morgan for six years now, and apparently Morgan had felt the same for just as long. They’d made it through the horrible desert of separation, so how could being together screw anything up? It seemed impossible that could ever happen.
“I know,” Hayes said, instead.
“I’ve been thinking I want to say something about your contract during one of my segments,” Morgan said.
Hayes should have seen it coming. He had seen it coming. “No,” he said, but even he could hear the indecision in his voice.
“I don’t want to do it without your blessing, but I’d do it if I was in your bed or not,” Morgan said with that ringing certainty only he possessed.
“Did Jacob talk to you about it?”
Hayes could feel, not see, Morgan’s frown. “What does Jacob have to do with this?”
“Just . . .that day we golfed together. Barty brought it up to him.” Hayes paused. He was still feeling out this friendship between Morgan and Jacob. It didn’t always make sense to him, but he was slowly beginning to see how it worked. “Barty thought maybe if I didn’t want you to do it, I’d be willing to have Jacob give it a shot.”
“Jacob doesn’t even do media,” Morgan said, sounding a little dumbfounded.
“I know, which is why I turned him down.”
“Angel,” Morgan said earnestly, turning towards Hayes so he could look him right in the eye, “if anyone should talk you up and make the Sentinels feel wretched for not believing in you, it’s me.”
Hayes could agree that it made a certain kind of sense. “Yeah,” he said.
“I get why you might not have wanted me to, before. You were pissed.”
That was definitely true. “I’m not pissed now.”
“Right, which is why I’m confused that you’re not jumping all over this idea.”
“Who says it’ll even change anything?” Hayes waved his hands. “It’s not like you’re going to knock some sense into them.”
“You don’t think management on all thirty-two NHL teams gives a shit about how they’re perceived by the media and the fans? They sure fucking do.”
Morgan didn’t have to add, and the media and the fans always think I know what I’m talking about, because it was a given. He was Morgan Reynolds. His word was hockey gospel.
“I . . .” Hayes sighed heavily. “You’d do it even if we weren’t fucking? Even if you didn’t love me?”
Morgan made an outraged noise. “I can’t imagine a world in which I wouldn’t love you—you’re made for me. I’ve known it since the first time we stepped on the ice together—but yes. Yes. This isn’t me doing you a solid ’cause you let me stick my dick in you.” Morgan grinned.
Hayes squawked and smacked him on the shoulder. “God, why do I love you?”
“Good question, but don’t ever stop.”
It wasn’t so, forever, but it was enough to say, “Don’t plan to.”
“Good,” Morgan said. “It’s decided then?”
“Ugh, I’ll text Barty in the morning. I’m sure he has some specific talking points he’ll want you to cover.”
“Like Barty would ever have a list I wouldn’t have already thought of,” Morgan muttered but gave a little nod that told Hayes he’d wait at least until he and Hayes’ agent got on the same page.
“Thank you,” Hayes said, resettling back into the curve of Morgan’s arms. “You didn’t have to offer to do this.”
“Yeah, I did. I’d do anything for you, angel,” Morgan said softly.
And Hayes was slowly beginning to believe that was true.
Chapter 22
Morgan didn’t dislike Bartholemew Smith III, but he didn’t like him either, particularly.
Barty had spent at least two years when he’d first started gaining bigger clients attempting to convince Morgan to switch agents. But Morgan hadn’t wanted to leave Natasha, who’d been his agent and a certified ballbuster since he’d been drafted into the league. He’d had his choice of agents; they’d practically lined up begging for a chance to represent him.
Natasha had been the dark horse, the only woman, and he knew she would be the hungriest. The most aggressive negotiator. It wasn’t only because she’d be perennially ignored and dismissed, but because he looked into her eyes and recognized the same feeling he’d always carried in himself. A feeling that had less to do with everyone else doubting him and more to do with him knowing what he was capable of.
“When Monty called me and said he’d changed his mind, I didn’t believe him,” Barty said, leaning back in his chair.
They’d spent the last eighteen holes on the course making small talk and exchanging hockey gossip. But Hayes hadn’t really come up until now.
Jacob had offered to come with him, because he knew he didn’t really like Barty and that he really didn’t like golf. But he’d turned him down, because he didn’t want Barty to know how much he annoyed him.
Also, only a small handful of people knew how much Morgan disliked golf.
It was too slow, too much standing around and waiting. He’d only gone out of his way to get good at it because hockey players loved it and he wasn’t going to embarrass himself on a course in front of any of them.
“He was that against me saying something publicly?” Morgan said casually. But it didn’t surprise him at all. Hayes had his share of pride, similarly shaped to Morgan’s own.
“Adamantly against it.” Barty took a sip of his beer. “So against it I thought I must’ve missed something over the years. Like you two secretly hated each other and you’ve been fooling the world for the last decade.”
“No,” Morgan said. He’d believe that Barty didn’t know the truth if he didn’t see the knowing edge to his normally sly expression. If Hayes hadn’t told Morgan himself that he’d finally confessed the entire story to his agent.
“Clearly.” Barty was grinning now. “You planning on doing any kind of public statement?”
Morgan shook his head. “I don’t give a shit what anyone says about me, even if people speculate about us.”
“They’re going to, you know,” Barty said. “Especially if you go on ESPN and say what Hayes claims you want to.”
Morgan knew what people were talking about. He’d seen the posts and the screenshots and the pictures because Natasha had sent them to him. The positive was that almost everyone believed that this was a new thing and the overriding consensus was that their relationship made a weird kind of sense. Like the universe is righting itself, one video claimed, after a bunch of sappy lyrics appeared over two dozen photos of him and Hayes over the years.
Morgan had been a little embarrassed he’d watched it and even more embarrassed that he’d ended up watching it twice.
“I know,” Morgan said. “And they can speculate all they want to. I’m not much of a public figure these days.”
Barty shot him a look that was eerily reminiscent of the one Natasha had given him the last time they’d discussed this. Was that particular combination of reproachful doubt something they taught in agent school?
“That’s bullshit,” Barty said bluntly. More bluntly than Natasha had. But then, she’d always known how to handle Morgan, and Barty hadn’t. Which was why he’d never once been tempted to make the change.
“Okay, probably. But it’s still not their business. I’m not affiliated with a team these days. No nosy and paranoid PR to force me to do whatever they want.”
Barty chortled. “Right. Hayes is, but Hayes also—”
“Hayes is out. He’s dated guys publicly. It’s less of a deal for him,” Morgan said. He didn’t want Barty to force Hayes into making some big issue out of it, because Hayes had seemed perfectly okay with them not confirming or talking about the gossip surrounding them.
He’d only made one request and tonight, Morgan would be taking that first step. He wouldn’t have done it unless Hayes had asked him to, specifically. And he was a little nervous about it. It wasn’t like he was getting up on ESPN and addressing Hayes’ contract, like he’d be doing in a few days. That would be a cakewalk in comparison.
“It is, and if I’m being honest, the whole thing with Alexander sort of burned him out on that public parading of his relationship,” Barty said.
Morgan didn’t say that the Alexander part had been the issue with that, but he had a feeling he didn’t have to, if the way Barty’s gaze went cold when he said his name was any indication.
“Can’t blame him for that,” Morgan muttered. Fought against his own inclination to apologize for his inadvertent role in that whole mess.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Barty said, like he hadn’t said anything, “you two are free to live your lives the way you want to. Hayes said he’s taking care of the team, like the actual players on the team, and he said Finn knows.” Morgan nodded. “The only thing left I want to say about this whole thing is you’d better not fucking break his heart again.”
Morgan had always thought Barty was a bit of a buffoon. All flash and no substance. Had wondered more than once why Hayes kept him around. But now Morgan was wondering if that had just been a convenient and clever act, and ugh, if he’d fallen for it, he was a little embarrassed.
Natasha would have a good laugh if he ever decided to tell her.
“I won’t. I wouldn’t.” He nearly stuttered in surprise, suddenly too eager to lay that killer expression in Barty’s eyes to rest.
“Good,” Barty said, leaning back in his chair again. He picked up his beer. “Now, do you want to go over the talking points I’d like you to cover in your segment?”
“I can handle it,” Morgan said, annoyed again. He’d told Hayes he didn’t need this meeting. That he knew exactly what to say. But he supposed he couldn’t be mad or annoyed, even, that Barty and Hayes wanted to cross every t and dot every i.
“It’s not about you not handling it,” Barty said, proving again that he might actually be a good agent. Morgan should be happier about this than he was, because he needed Hayes to have the best, always.
This was going to be Hayes’ last contract, hockey fates willing, and Morgan wanted what he wanted so badly he was nearly burning with it.
He knew, too, that if he channeled even a fraction of the burning indignation he felt, the actual words he used wouldn’t matter.
But he’d tolerated eighteen holes of golf and now this interminable lunch with Barty already. He might as well listen to what Barty had to say.
“Then tell me,” Morgan said.
Six years ago, he’d have rather died than be a parrot for anyone, especially Bartholomew Smith III, but he’d learned a lot in that time. How to be less of an ass. How to mostly listen to what others wanted. How to make an attempt to deliver it, instead of ignoring it entirely.
But most of all, he’d learned what it was like to live without Hayes Montgomery, and he’d jump through a hell of a lot more hoops than this to never have to live like that again.
The last time he’d done this, it had never felt right and, not surprisingly, the relationship had completely imploded after that. Hayes told himself it was totally different this time around.
Not just because he couldn’t even sense an implosion on the horizon, and with Alexander, things had always felt one bad fight from falling apart completely, but because Alexander hadn’t been a hockey player. He’d been a marketing exec, completely removed from the team.
Morgan was one of the most famous hockey players of all time, and the father of their rookie goalie.
“Hey,” he announced to the locker room as they got changed after morning skate. They had a home game tonight against the Leafs. “Can I get your attention for a sec?”
“Sure yeah, Cap, what’s up?” Jasper asked, glancing up after he tossed his balled-up sock tape into the garbage and totally missed.
Hayes sighed as he walked over, bending over and picking it up, depositing into the trash. “As you’ve noticed, Morgan Reynolds has been around some this season.”
“Yeah, ’cause he’s the rook’s daddy,” Lars said.
“Uh, yes, that is true,” Hayes said. “But he’s going to be around, um, more, too.”
“Why is he your daddy too, Monty?” Someone—Hayes thought it might have been Silov—teased.
He went bright red. “Uh, no. No. But we are uh, dating.”
The locker room fell silent.
“No shit?” Jasper was the one who broke it, like a plate crashing to the floor. “Wow. Way to get it done, Cap. Aiming for the stars there.”
If it was possible, Hayes flushed redder and focused his gaze on the opposite side of the locker room, on the blank white board that Coach sometimes used to break down plays between periods.
“Personally,” Finn piped up from his stall, “I think it’s my dad that’s lucky.”
“Thanks, Finn,” Hayes said. This was worse than he’d imagined it might be. Way worse than it had been with Alexander. But he’d needed to do it, because he’d extracted a promise from Morgan that he’d come around the locker room more after home games—not just for Finn but for him, too—and the first time Hayes indulged in even the faintest hint of PDA, the team would freak out if they didn’t already know the truth.
“Honestly though, Monty, way to pull,” Lars said, starting a slow clap that made Hayes want to die and fall through the floor.
“You guys are serious?” Silov asked.
“I’d say so, yeah,” Hayes said. “We’ve . . .uh . . .liked each other for a long time. Just finally was the right time to get our shit together.”
“Congrats,” Silov said, nodding with approval.
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”
“But it’s a big fucking deal?” Jasper interrupted, grinning.
“I guess, just because he’s him and I’m me, but otherwise, no,” Hayes said. “Just wanted to give you guys a heads-up.”
There were a few more interested nods and Lars and Jasper were, of course, still slow clapping like they thought they were fucking hilarious, but otherwise everyone went back to shedding their equipment.
Hayes let out a breath then another. There was less relief than there’d been after they’d successfully told Finn and Jacob, but it felt similar. He hadn’t expected anyone to really care, because they already knew Hayes was gay and had already met one of his boyfriends. But then, the boyfriend hadn’t been Morgan Reynolds, either.
