Rather than pointing any of that out to Rhian, he just held him close. When Rhian stopped clinging to him like a limpet and was just holding on and keeping him close, Garrick tilted his chin just enough to brush their lips together.
Rhian immediately kissed him back and something in Garrick’s chest loosened. He cupped his hand around Rhian’s cheek and tilted his face up, prolonging the contact. He was running out of ways of communicating to Rhian just how much he loved him. How much he needed him and Savannah in his life. If there were a way to kiss him hard enough, long enough, to make Rhian understand how important his happiness was to Garrick, then he would do that.
In the meantime, this kiss seemed to get some of that across. Rhian’s hands shifted over him until his fingers dug into Garrick’s hips and his head rested on the coarse bricks behind him as he just gave himself up to it.
It was a start.
Eventually, the cold couldn’t be ignored any longer. With a last, lingering press of lips, Garrick pulled back. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Rhian mumbled. “Working on getting better, I promise.”
Garrick wrapped his arms around Rhian and held him. “I know you are.”
Chapter Five
A good, long, hard practice always went a long way toward settling Rhian. After their night with Seamus and his walk with Garrick, he was surprised he’d slept like the dead, if the dead could cling to two people at once. Savannah and Garrick hadn’t said anything when he’d curled into to Savannah and pulled Garrick’s arms around them. In fact, they’d both seemed pretty happy about it.
But he kept flashing back to the moment Garrick had asked if he wanted to leave, and it shook him every time.
Rhian did not want to leave. And he realized now, more keenly than ever, that he needed to get his shit together if he was going to get through this without irreparably damaging his relationship with the two most important people in his life.
The first step toward that was to stop being an idiot and invite his friends to Seamus’s party. It wasn’t a big deal. Hell, he should have done it weeks ago. But…
Well, it didn’t matter what he’d been thinking. What mattered was that he had to get over his bullshit, and a normal, well-adjusted person would want to invite his friends to what would probably be the nicest party any of them had ever been to.
“Hey guys,” he said to the collection of nosy French Canadians hanging around his locker when he came out of the shower. “What’s up?”
“You seemed a little off today. You doing all right?” Henri asked.
The fact that his weirdness was finally starting to impact his hockey was all the proof he needed that it was past time for him to get over it. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”
He got three skeptical looks.
“I was going to ask if you guys wanted to do lunch today,” he said, plowing on.
“Okay,” Jean-Michel said, always the easiest of the bunch to convince to do something.
Jean-Michel nudged Noel, giving him his best puppy-dog eyes. It was pretty pathetic—but not as pathetic as how quickly Noel caved. Rhian turned to Henri and they both rolled their eyes, lips twitching as they suppressed their laughter.
“Lunch sounds good,” Henri said.
“Great, just let me get dressed and I’ll meet you guys in the hallway.”
A half hour later, they were settled into a booth at the back of one of their favorite restaurants, arguing over whether the spinach-and-artichoke appetizer would be a gross violation of their diet plans, or if they could maybe get away with it if they split it four ways.
“Leave me out of this,” Henri said, his hands in the air. “I’m no spring chicken like you three. If I eat shit like that this early in the season, I’ll not only pay for it until spring, but I’ll feel like shit during the game tomorrow.”
“Dude, it must be hard to be so old,” Rhian said seriously, trying for a deeply concerned expression.
“You’re an asshole,” Henri said, equally seriously.
Rhian laughed, glad he’d asked the guys out today. He was friends with these jerks for a reason, and watching Noel try to force-feed Jean-Michel a pita chip reminded him what that was and why it mattered.
They joked through their totally-not-on-the-meal-plan appetizer, and Rhian smiled to himself knowing that later that night, he’d have the pleasure of seeing Savannah’s outraged expression when he told her all about it. Then he could tell her that she didn’t have a leg to stand on, since he happened to know that she had eaten an entire bag of Hershey’s Kisses on Saturday when she thought no one was looking.
When the illicit appetizer was cleared away and his guilt-free salad with extra-extra chicken—there was a reason this place was one of their favorites—was placed before him, Rhian decided it was time to get the whole Christmas party thing out of the way.
“Hey, you guys interested in coming to Seamus Lynch’s big holiday party? I can get you invitations, if you want.”
Henri stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“You know, Seamus Lynch? I think you’ve all met him a couple times. He’s a season ticket holder.”
“He’s the mayor of Boston,” Noel said incredulously.
“He is not,” Rhian said quickly. “Don’t call him that.”
“Dude, everyone calls him that. The actual mayor of Boston calls him that,” Noel said. “Come to think of it, the actual mayor of Boston wishes he was invited to Seamus Lynch’s holiday party.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Rhian said, looking down at his salad and focusing on getting just the right mix of ingredients onto his fork.
Jean-Michel looked at him like he was crazy. “It’s not that big—” The table shook, Jean-Michel jumped then bent over to rub his shin.
Henri put his fork down. “How is it cool that you invite us to his party?” he asked curiously.
And this was the part Rhian had been dreading. The part where he had to start lying. “He’s a friend of mine.”
“A friend of yours,” Henri repeated. “It doesn’t seem like you two would have a lot in common.”
“He’s a huge hockey fan,” Rhian said, nonsensically. The guys knew perfectly well that a lot of times, those were the kind of people he liked to avoid. Nothing was less relaxing than hanging out with a friend who wanted to pick your team apart.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Noel asked before Henri could poke at it any more.
“Yeah, I’m sure. He’d like it if you could make it,” Rhian said, pleased at how steady he sounded.
“Then I’m in,” Noel said.
“Me, too,” Jean-Michel agreed. “You can crash at my place, since it’s walking distance from there,” he added to Noel.
Noel shrugged. “Okay. Cool.”
Rhian met Henri’s eyes and, for a moment, his curiosity over Rhian’s relationship with Seamus was trumped by their mutual amusement at the dorks beside them. Rhian wondered if they’d ever figure themselves and each other out.
“You should bring Lisa. And the kids,” Rhian added for Henri.
Henri’s eyebrows went way up. “The kids? Really?”
“Yeah, Seamus loves kids. Loves to have the house full of them, especially around Christmas. He’ll have the media room in the basement set up so they can watch a movie, or just pass out on the couches.”
Jean-Michel’s eyes lit up. “He has a media room? Is that like his own private movie theater?”
It was, actually, a lot like that, but more comfortable and a lot smaller. Rhian wasn’t going to tell Jean-Michel that, though. “Why do you care?” he asked instead. “You planning on spending the night watching Frozen with the eight-year-olds?”
Henri nodded seriously. “Emotionally, he’d be with his peers.”
“Intellectually, too,” Noel added.
“In fact, he wouldn’t even be that much taller,” Henri said in a sly voice. “He’d blend right in.”
Jean-Michel opened his mouth to say somet
hing, then snapped it closed. Then did it again. And again. He looked like a landed trout.
Rhian had to put down his fork because he was shaking with laughter. Nothing got Jean-Michel more worked up than being made fun of for his height. At six foot even, he was hardly short, but Rhian was six foot two, Henri was six foot four, and they both looked pretty short next to Noel, who was a six foot five.
Finally, Jean-Michel managed to spit out, “I can’t believe I’m friends with you assholes,” which just made them laugh harder. “I am not short, you fucking freaks of nature.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being vertically challenged,” Noel offered gently, patting Jean-Michel on the head. “You don’t have to feel bad.”
“I’m not vertically challenged!”
“If it helps you feel better, you can believe that,” Henri said, then turned to Rhian. “Lisa, the kids, and I would love to come to the party. Please thank Seamus for us. I’m looking forward to meeting him again. He’s always been a nice guy when we’ve met before.”
“Yeah,” Rhian agreed. “He’s really great. I think you’ll like him if you get to know him better.” And it was true, even if it wasn’t really the truth. Seamus was so much more than a great guy to Rhian. It would be nice, though, to have his friends see that for themselves.
“Are you bringing a date?” Jean-Michel asked, and Rhian’s good mood dimmed considerably.
He fought to keep his smile in place while he was practically gagging on the urge to say, “Yes! Two dates, actually!” They wouldn’t believe him even if he were crazy enough to say it.
“Nah, no date for me,” he choked out instead.
“No? Is it cool if we bring a plus-one?” Noel asked. He didn’t seem to notice the way Jean-Michel stopped chewing and looked at him from the corner of his eye.
“Uh, sure. You seeing someone?” Rhian asked, trying not to glance at Jean-Michel
“Nah,” Noel said easily. “I was more asking in case my sister comes to visit me around the holidays. She’s been threatening to do it, but won’t let me buy her ticket yet.”
Jean-Michel’s shoulders visibly lowered. Rhian wondered how Noel didn’t notice. It was one thing if he wasn’t interested in Jean-Michel, or in men in general, but he couldn’t be that oblivious, could he?
“That’s cool,” Jean-Michel said. “It would be great to see Liz.”
“You’re not allowed to date my sister,” Noel warned. He appeared completely serious.
Okay, so apparently Noel could be that oblivious. Sweet Jesus.
“I’m not going to date your sister, dude,” Jean-Michel said with an elaborate eye roll. “She’s totally not my type.”
Rhian stuffed a huge bite of salad into his mouth as Henri started to choke on whatever he’d been eating while watching the train wreck unfold before him.
Henri enjoyed watching a good train wreck now and then—who didn’t?—but never in his life had he been surrounded by such complete idiots as he was now with his friends in Boston.
Seriously. Eating with these morons was starting to be a health hazard.
He’d been tempted, more than once, to call Jean-Michel out on his blatant feelings for Noel, but then he’d be talking to him about something else, or someone else, or the pretty woman watching him from the pool tables or the super fan who likes to follow him around, and it had become painfully clear that not only was Jean-Michel not ready to talk about his feelings with Henri, Jean-Michel wasn’t even aware of his own feelings toward Noel.
Well, okay, to be fair, Jean-Michel was probably aware of them, but the poor kid didn’t seem to recognize them for what they were.
Which was…amazing, actually. And sometimes hilarious, but other times heartbreaking, like the look on his face when Noel asked if he could bring a plus-one to the party next week.
Good god, it had been painful to watch. And yet, somehow, the fucking idiot hadn’t put it all together, and Noel wasn’t any better.
Noel’s feelings for Jean-Michel were a lot less clear to Henri. But then again, Noel’s feelings on everything were a lot less clear to everyone. He was, after all, a goalie.
But Henri suspected that if Jean-Michel ever got his shit together, Noel might surprise him.
At this point, though, just about nothing would surprise Henri. Rhian seemed to have a pretty clear view of it, too. Though he wasn’t one to talk when it came to being vague and frustratingly unclear about his feelings about things.
Henri had seen the look on Rhian’s face when Noel asked if he was bringing a date.
“I’ve got to head out,” Rhian said, standing and throwing more than enough cash on the table. “You guys got this?”
“Yeah, sure,” Noel said with a wave.
“Got an appointment?” Henri asked. Rhian often had to be somewhere, but he never said where.
“Nah, just some stuff to do at home,” Rhian said.
Henri was singularly unsurprised about the vagueness, but the mention of home was interesting.
“How’s things above the garage?” he asked with a teasing grin.
Rhian blinked, a frown flitting across his face so fast, Henri would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking. “They’re good. It’s good. I like living there.”
This kid made four million dollars a year. “Cool,” Henri said mildly.
He watched Rhian go, ignoring the bickering from across the table, and wondered about what was really going on with Rhian. He’d seemed…better today. Maybe not all better, but definitely lighter. Happier. As far as Henri knew, nothing had changed in Rhian’s life in the interim between his bad mood and today. Henri was increasingly convinced that it wasn’t that Rhian didn’t have a personal life, as he liked to pretend. It was that his personal life was private. So private he didn’t even share it with his friends.
Henri wondered, not for the first time, if Rhian was gay. It made him sad to think that, if that were the case, Rhian didn’t feel he could share that with them. God—and Rhian—knew that Jean-Michel would be in no position to cast any stones. Noel was absolutely not going to be anything but cool with it—anyone who had ever met him would know that. He was cool with everybody. And Henri was pretty sure he didn’t give off a homophobic vibe either, considering he was himself bisexual, and was the first to call out any idiot in the locker room who forgot what decade they were living in.
Henri wondered, briefly, if it might not benefit all three of his young friends if he told them about himself. Maybe get the ball rolling on an honest discussion between them all.
He’d have to ask Lisa what she thought about that. It was a big move, so not one he was willing to make before he’d had a chance to do a sanity check with his wife.
In the meantime, he’d sit here and try to digest his lunch while Jean-Michel stared at Noel like he’d hung the moon.
Jean-Michel went back to the practice arena after lunch and got on one of the bikes. He’d just eaten, so he wasn’t trying to train for the Tour de France or anything, but he needed to burn off some excess energy. Something about lunch wasn’t sitting right with him. He’d only been at it for twenty minutes before Savannah popped her head into the gym.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. If Jean-Michel had to guess, he’d say she was judging his speed. He was probably overdoing it, but she didn’t say anything about it. Yet.
“Nothing. Just…you know,” he said lamely.
She didn’t look like she knew.
But then again, maybe she would be able to help if he told her. She was always good for advice about this kind of stuff. He and Noel would be lost without her.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said, trying to figure out if this was a smart thing to do or a possible betrayal of Rhian’s friendship.
Savannah came closer and he slowed way down, then stopped. She leaned against the display box for the bike. “Sure, what’s up? Is this to do with your training plan?”
“No, that’s…fine.” Which was mayb
e less than convincing when she’d just caught him working out when he didn’t have to. “It’s about Rhian.”
Savannah stood up straight again. “What about Rhian?”
“He’s been…I don’t know. Off? For a couple weeks now, at least. Have you noticed?”
Savannah seemed to think about that for a long time before nodding. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have to think about the answer to that at all, apparently.
“Really?”
“Yeah, he’s just…” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “He’s been stressed about some stuff.”
“Is there anything I can do, do you think? Do you know what he’s stressed about?”
“No, I don’t know,” she said quickly.
“Should I ask him?”
“Sure,” she said, but she didn’t sound sure at all. In fact, she looked extremely dubious.
Jean-Michel sighed. “I want to give the dude his space, you know? But he’s been so bummed about something. And I swear he’s got no life. I mean, you’d know. He must be holed up in that apartment almost all the time these days, if he’s to be believed.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, but she seemed distracted by her own thoughts, now.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into it. It’s probably none of my business, but I worry about the guy, you know?”
“No, that’s nice, Jean-Michel. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
He shrugged and told himself he had no right to preen under her praise. What kind of friend was he really when he didn’t know what was wrong and couldn’t do a damn thing to help?
“Just, maybe give him a little time to sort out whatever is bothering him and then he’ll want to talk about it,” she said in a voice that made Jean-Michel wonder if she believed it.
He nodded, though. “Okay. Yeah, I guess I don’t have much choice.”
A Merry Little [Hat Trick] Christmas Page 5