Hayes (A Carolina Cyclones Story)

17.

Hayes

I wake up feeling better than I have in months. It's not a secret that last night's activities have an awful lot to do with that. I'm in such a good mood that I don't even let it bother me that I overslept. I must have turned my alarm off in my sleep. Not that surprising when the alternative to a completely unnecessary extra off-day gym session was cuddling with Maggie who remains in my bed all soft and warm and gorgeous.

Nope. Doesn't bother me at all that I let one of my planned routines go. Well, okay maybe a little, but there are three days before our first playoff game and I'll find another time to work in an extra lift.

No-longer-in-a-dry-spell Hayes seems to be much more adaptable. I roll to my side, nuzzling my face into Maggie's neck and peppering her warm skin with kisses until she rolls over to look at me. Relieved when I see no regrets or hesitancies on her face, just a sheepish and sleepy smile as her big green eyes look up at me.

"Good Morning." She mumbles through a yawn.

"Indeed it is." I agree, pushing myself up to sit, the covers sliding down to my waist and her gaze following. My cock shows signs of interest as her eyes remain fixated on where my body disappears beneath the duvet. Attempting to refocus I clear my throat and struggle to stifle a laugh when her eyes snap back up to mine and the sweet pink flush creeps across her cheeks.

"Can I make you breakfast?" I offer.

This is especially out of character for me. But then again so is the entirety of practically the last twenty four hours. I never have people over, I don't bring women–the few of them there have been– around my team, I don't sleep with someone with guests in my house, I definitely don't leave said guests to their own devices because I get distracted by a woman–"oh God."

"What?" Maggie asks, her hand reaching out to rest on my forearm, alarm showing on her face as she spots the pure panic setting in on mine.

"We–we came up here and I kind of got swept up." I say quickly, my eyes drifting over to meet hers. "We left a hockey team full of idiots and pranksters downstairs." I say that lovingly, however if we walk down to what I suspect might be waiting for us that might change. In my head I see doomsday level destruction and chaos and a part of me wants to just roll over, go back to sleep and deal with whatever I'm sure those dumbasses have done later.

"You think it'll be bad?" The shock on her face allows the reminder that she doesn't know my teammates all that well, or at all really, yet.

"I have practically zero doubts." I sigh, my hand raises, my thumb and forefinger squeezing the bridge of my nose.

"Well come on then." She says, rolling from the bed and revealing all that perfect, tanned skin to me.

My dick, leaps to attention and I reach for her wrist hoping that I can convince her to start our morning with a bang but the look on her face when our eyes meet tells me I'm about to be disappointed.

"It's not that I don't want to," she starts, "I just have to be at the arena in an hour. Plus, I'll have to run home and change and grab some of my supplies since we're starting in the locker room today. They approved my designs and want to have the locker room finished before your first playoff game in a few days."

I take solace in the regretful tone of her words, the genuine disappointment keeping me from allowing my self-deprecating psyche to spiral into thoughts of inadequacy as is on brand for me.

"I might have time for a quick breakfast though." She smiles, it's small though. "As long as we don't walk downstairs to the apocalypse like you seem to think we might."

I choke out a laugh and throw back the covers, peeling my eyes away from easily the most tempting body I've had in my bed–and the only one I've had in this particular bed. I grab a pair of boxers out of my drawer and throw on a pair of athletic shorts and a tee shirt. I'm a little disappointed when I turn back around to find that Maggie has already finished dressing. She is leaned up against the footboard of my bed patiently waiting for me.

Maggie takes my extended hand, her fingers weaving their way through mine in a way that seems more comfortable than maybe it should be considering the events of last night. Sure, we'd been with each other in the most intimate of ways but it's not like we know each other all that well yet but here we are, walking hand in hand through my house, my brain bracing itself for the sheer disaster I'm sure we're about to walk into.

But when we reach the main living area I'm surprised to find it looks nearly spotless. The pillows on the couch are out of place and there are a few scattered crumbs here or there but for the most part the place appears to have come through a team party unscathed.

"Well I'll be damned." I mutter.

"See! It's not so bad." Maggie says beside me, her hand slipping up to wrap around my elbow.

"But doesn't it make me an asshole that I thought the worst of them? I'm supposed to be the captain." I sigh, breaking our contact so that I can lift my hands and scrub them over my face.

"You're too hard on yourself, Hayes." She whispers, her palm pressing into the center of my back.

I grunt in response because I disagree. She's only seen the self loathing I speak out loud. If only she knew how deep this shit is ingrained in my brain. Funny how my dad's long dead but his voice is still here, everyday screaming at me from within my own head.

"Oh, look. A note."

That gets my attention and I follow the sound of Maggie's voice to the kitchen island where a piece of paper from the pad that is magnetically clung to the fridge has been torn off. Messy, scrawling handwriting covers the page.

Hansen,

Seemed like you were preoccupied so I told the boys and the rest to get lost. Let's talk about proper hosting duties before you try the whole social thing again. Jax and Rush wanted to trash the place so you're welcome and you owe me. I like private hotel suites for away games and expensive whiskey. Hope you enjoyed your extracurriculars.

Wes

"I like him." Maggie murmurs after reading the note from Allen over my shoulder. "Layne seemed great too."

"Yeah, Wesley's been a better friend to me than I probably deserve since I've been here. It's not the first time he's had my back, probably won't be the last. A lot of guys thought he should've got the captaincy when it opened up last year after the old one retired."

It's not something my teammates have broadcasted but I'd heard the whispers. The offhand overheard comments had stayed with me, lingering in my thoughts and being shouted at me in my father's voice anytime I failed to keep the self-doubt away.

"And what do you think?" She spins to face me and I suck in a breath. No one's ever come right out and asked me that before.

I blink at her. My tongue swipes across my lips as I try to decide if I'm going to be completely honest. This is the second time now that this woman has brought me to the cusp of really being open. A feat I've never achieved.

"I told you before that I don't always feel adequate in the role, no." I admit.

"So do you think the staff made the wrong choice appointing you?"

And now I let it all fly. "I don't think it really matters what I think. They don't say it to my face but I know most of them think it. They think it's not my place to wear the C. I can see it in their eyes. They listen and they do their duty because they don't want to cause rifts but I don't have their respect, not like I need to. So I show up early and I stay late and I keep my nose to the grindstone and I try like hell to earn that privilege everyday."

Her head cocks to the side. "But even after all that you still don't feel like enough."

She doesn't pose it as a question. Instead she merely states it as truth. And it hits me square in the chest because she's right. I don't reply, instead my shoulders just sag as my lips form a thin straight line.