End Game

by Samantha Wayland

  She might have fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for his arms wrapped around her. He held her as he always did—an arm over her hip, hand on her belly—but when the strength of his hold should have gone lax, he held her to his chest so tightly she couldn’t draw a deep breath.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the bedside table. Five o’clock.

  Dreams of a late afternoon nap fled.

  She swore to herself she would hold her tongue until she could wrestle her annoyance into submission. She’d known this would happen. Hell, she’d been the genius who’d set the schedule for this weekend.

  The words “don’t go” stuck in her throat so badly she wanted to gag.

  She closed her eyes so she couldn’t watch the minutes slip away, and waited for Garrick to leave her to go to Rhian.

  Garrick stared at the alarm clock. He was due at Rhian’s at six o’clock.

  Fuck.

  Not that he didn’t want to go. He did. He was as desperate to see Rhian as he had been to see Savannah. But he didn’t want to climb out of this bed. Leave Savannah.

  He considered calling Rhian to delay, but immediately discarded the idea. Rhian would take it as confirmation of everything he believed about himself, his relationship with Garrick, and their prospects for longevity. And realistically, it wasn’t going to be any easier to walk out of Rhian’s apartment tomorrow morning to come see Savannah. Or leave again from here.

  Garrick bit back a groan. He was a complete fucking idiot.

  Seeking comfort he knew he had no right to ask for, he buried his face in Savannah’s hair and squeezed her until she squeaked.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, loosening his hold.

  She sighed, then rolled over to face him. “You have to go.”

  It was a simple statement, made without a whiff of sarcasm or anger. He didn’t think he could have managed it if the situation was reversed.

  His guts clenched. What did it say about him that he asked it of her?

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Are you?” She sounded curious.

  He understood that if he was having regrets, she needed to know. Her ability to talk to him, to listen, was the only reason any of this was possible. He was perfectly aware that almost anyone else would have dumped his ass.

  “I’m sorry that it upsets you. I’m sorry that it upsets me. But I’m not sorry I have Rhian.”

  They’d sworn they wouldn’t lie. About anything. That sure as shit didn’t make it any less awkward to talk about Rhian while they lay in bed naked. In fact, awkward felt like a really nice word for whatever the fuck this was.

  Savannah nodded. “You better get going, then.”

  “Sav—”

  “No, Garrick. This is what we knew would happen. What we agreed to.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He hadn’t thought at all. Fucking idiot.

  “I did,” she admitted with a shrug. She ran her fingers over his cheek. “You still love him, right?”

  “Yes.” Any hesitation would have been a lie.

  “Then go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast while Rhian has practice.”

  Savannah had proposed the weekend’s schedule, since she knew when Rhian had to be where and could make her schedule more flexible. Garrick hadn’t questioned it, nor had Rhian. They weren’t stupid enough to miss the fact Savannah was being extraordinarily generous.

  Guilt burned a hole in Garrick’s stomach. It was agony to crawl out from the covers and pull on his clothes. She lay in their huge, new, freshly christened bed, watching him, smiling when he missed his pant leg and almost fell over into a heap on the floor.

  Shit, on top of everything else, he was so fucking tired.

  “Try to get some sleep tonight.” She always saw everything.

  “I will. I promise. A solid eight hours.”

  She smirked. “Yeah, right.”

  He smiled and kissed her hard, once, thanking god that she could make a joke at a time like this. He also started to contemplate all the things he would do with Rhian that night that wouldn’t involve sleep. A shiver worked its way over his entire body.

  Her eyes lost their focus and he guessed she was thinking about the same thing. Nothing turned on Savannah more than his detailed descriptions of being with men. She had her share of other little kinks, but this, above all others, hit her sweet spot. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care.

  He pressed his lips to hers again. “We’ll be good,” he promised in a husky voice.

  Her cheeks warmed to pink before she smiled wryly. “I love you,” she murmured. “Now go.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Miraculously, he left the apartment with a smile on his face.

  Savannah lay in the bed, the apartment quiet around her.

  For a few blissful hours, the place had felt full of Garrick. Like it was finally the home she’d been piecing together for them.

  Now he was gone and it was too still. Too silent.

  She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

  Was she deluding herself about all of this and secretly harboring deep-seated rage about Garrick being in love with someone else in addition to herself?

  She kept coming back to this question. And the answer was always no.

  She rooted around in her heart and head, like she might uncover that anger hidden in some back cupboard of her mind. She still came up empty.

  So why couldn’t she stop asking herself the question?

  She was desperate to talk to someone about it. But who could she tell? No way in hell she could go to anyone in her family. If she told one of her six brothers, they’d tell the other five in a red-hot minute, the gossiping hags, and then they’d collectively freak out and default to over-protective Neanderthal behavior. Not helpful.

  Her mom and dad were great, and she could usually tell them anything, but they were still her parents. They understandably didn’t need or want to know the details of any of their children’s sex lives.

  The safest option was her dear friend and college roommate, Grace. Unfortunately, they were in the midst of an epic game of phone tag.

  She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and dialed. Maybe she’d get lucky this time.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Gracie, it’s Savannah. Is now a good time?”

  “I teach an extension class in about five minutes, but I’m all yours until then.”

  Savannah could hear the echo of student’s voices in the background and sighed. Not enough time to get into an in-depth conversation about her love life.

  Still, maybe they could squeeze in a sanity check. “Can I ask you something totally out of right field?”

  “Sure.”

  She knew she risked sending Grace into a death spiral of questions that couldn’t be answered in the next three minutes, but she had to ask. “Do you think someone can be in love with two people at once?”

  “Yes.”

  Savannah blinked at Grace’s immediate and unequivocal affirmation. “Wow. You sound really sure.”

  “I am.” Someone called Grace’s name in the background. “Shit. Let’s have dinner. Soon. Like, immediately.”

  “Yes.”

  They quickly compared schedules, but weren’t able find a time that would work for the remaining weeks of the season, thanks to the Bruin’s travel schedule. They settled on a date to meet soon after.

  Until then, Savannah was on her own. Still not mad. Still really fucking confused.

  She’d spent a lot of the last month wondering if, rather than force Garrick to admit he was in love with Rhian, she should have put the kibosh on it. Ended it before the idea was fully formed in Garrick’s head, before he could tell Rhian. Before Rhian could say it back.

  Instead she’d encouraged Garrick to be honest. To be generous. She’d listened to what little he’d learned of Rhian’s childhood, heard the emotion in his voice. Her own heart had ache
d for a little boy in the foster care system, without a family. Without love.

  She’d also listened to Garrick describe, in exacting, delicious detail, everything he and Rhian had done. She had a voyeuristic streak a mile wide. And that, coupled with the belief that she and Garrick could be happy together, forever, without monogamy being an absolute requirement, meant she had more or less brought this on herself.

  She was, very likely, a fool. But she’d started them down this crazy path based on her instincts, and she was going to stick to them.

  Garrick and Rhian were in love.

  She and Garrick were in love.

  Somewhere in all that good, they’d have to tackle the crap that came with it and find a path forward.

  Chapter Three

  Rhian sat in his tiny apartment at the extended-stay hotel and stared at the television, completely oblivious to what was on the screen.

  Garrick’s flight had landed—Rhian was an idiot and hadn’t been able to resist checking—but he hadn’t yet gotten word that Garrick wasn’t coming tonight. Rhian swore to himself he wouldn’t be mad when he did. He didn’t pretend he wouldn’t be crushingly disappointed—his denial only went so far—but he was trying to be realistic. It didn’t make sense for Garrick to come to him. He’d gone to Savannah first. How the hell could he leave her and come here?

  Rhian had played along for the month this weekend’s plans had been in the works. It wasn’t like he was going to argue with Savannah about it. She’d been incredibly fair. Painfully so.

  She and Garrick were perfect for one another. Beautiful, smart, successful, and in love. Both wanted a family, a cozy farmhouse, and probably a white picket fence to wrap it all up.

  Rhian would concede he, too, was successful in his career, particularly now that he’d made it to the NHL. But the rest? He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  Just thinking about it made his stomach churn. Which was why, in spite of his genuine, sometimes terrifying, always overwhelming love for Garrick, he would accept an offer from whatever team asked and get the hell out of Boston as soon as his short-term contract with the Bruins was done.

  God help him if the B’s kept him. He’d have to find the guts to end things regardless.

  Because really, what the hell would Garrick do with him if he didn’t walk away? Would he be the secret lover Garrick got to sneak away with here and there? The guy who got to suck Garrick’s cock while Savannah was home with the kids?

  Right. Never going to happen.

  Even if Savannah was okay with it, Rhian wasn’t. He suspected Garrick wouldn’t be either in the long run. It was bad enough to be faced with Savannah every day at work now. What would it be like in a year? Or once Savannah and Garrick were married? Had kids? Jesus, it would be hell.

  He heard a sound out in the hallway and cursed the way his heart leaped. His need for Garrick haunted him. He couldn’t do anything without thinking of the damn man. Rhian had never been in love before. Had never guessed it was so goddamn consuming. If he’d had the slightest clue what was happening when he’d gone and done the unimaginable and fallen in love, he’d have run in the other direction from the start.

  If not to protect his own heart, then to spare Garrick the foolishness of loving someone like him.

  Garrick stood outside the door to Rhian’s apartment and collected his thoughts. The stench of over-shampooed carpets and disinfectant suited the drab décor and singed the inside of his nose. He couldn’t imagine a living space more removed from the welcoming warmth of Savannah’s apartment.

  Their apartment.

  He’d offered Rhian the name of the real estate agent who had helped them, but Rhian wasn’t interested. He’d only been called up to Boston to cover some injuries, and was convinced the Bruins would ditch him at the end of this season.

  Garrick had seen every game Rhian had played for the B’s—even recorded them so he could watch them more than once—and he had little doubt the Bruins would keep Rhian.

  But then, Rhian didn’t believe anyone would ever keep him, did he?

  Sighing, Garrick knocked on the door.

  And waited.

  He was about to knock again, the devastating thought that Rhian had blown him off just beginning to circulate in his brain, when the door swung open.

  Garrick’s heart broke a little when he saw the ill-concealed surprise on Rhian’s face.

  He thought I wouldn’t show.

  Suddenly furious, Garrick shoved his way into the room, slammed the door, and threw his bag to the floor. He cupped Rhian’s face in his hands and pinned him to the wall.

  Rhian stared at him, his beautiful, dark blue eyes wide. It hit Garrick hard, just how much he’d missed him.

  “I love you,” Garrick said, trying to chase the haunted look from Rhian’s eyes. Trying to make him believe the words were true.

  Rhian didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Almost as obvious as Rhian’s love was his fear. Garrick hated that it frightened Rhian, that he frightened Rhian, but he wouldn’t deny how he felt.

  “I love you, too,” Rhian said at last, his voice rusty.

  Garrick kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of his love and gratitude into the simple press of lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, demanding he do more than this almost chaste, lingering peck. He didn’t.

  He waited until Rhian’s hands slid around his waist and held on.

  Garrick stepped away.

  “Go to the bedroom, strip, and lie down on the bed.”

  Rhian blinked but didn’t move otherwise. Garrick questioned the wisdom of his hastily developed strategy but held firm, not touching Rhian in any way.

  At last, Rhian turned and went through the door to his bedroom. Garrick followed.

  If Garrick had had any doubts, they were obliterated when Rhian shed his clothes and lay face down on the bed, legs and arm spread. He hadn’t told Rhian how to position himself, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised by Rhian’s choice.

  Garrick stripped, rooted around in his luggage, and tossed supplies on the bed by Rhian’s hip. Rhian didn’t move, not even when the bottle of lube bounced off his thigh. The long line of his back was rigid as he waited for Garrick, his tense glutes carving angles into the soft curves of his perfect ass. He was fitter, even more ripped now than when Garrick had last seen him. He was also wound up tighter than a spring.

  As always, the vulnerability and need he saw in Rhian, that only he was allowed to see, called to him. The compulsion to touch him, comfort him, was a physical thing—a low ache in Garrick’s gut that wouldn’t go away.

  He climbed on the bed and ran his hands over Rhian’s soft skin, letting Rhian know he was there before he lay down on top of him. He did not spare Rhian an ounce of his full weight as he bore him down into the bed.

  Once their arms and legs were aligned, no part of Rhian uncovered, Garrick let out a deep breath. He buried his face against Rhian’s silky blond curls and threaded their fingers together.

  Rhian’s eyes fluttered closed, then with a shuddering exhale, he melted into the mattress. Garrick didn’t worry that he was squeezing the breath out of his lover. They’d done this before.

  This was the only time, the only way, Rhian seemed to find true peace. To release the constant simmering tension beneath his calm façade and relax fully.

  Garrick closed his eyes and savored the smell of Rhian’s shampoo and the brush of stubble when their cheeks slid together. Rhian’s long, rhythmic breaths soothed Garrick. He was learning to capture his own kind of tranquility in these moments. To ease his own mind.

  He’d been so damned tired, running on fumes by the time he’d boarded the plane that morning. But now he didn’t need to sleep. Instead, he let Rhian’s warmth, his trust and love, recharge him.

  After being with Savannah, and now holding Rhian, Garrick felt whole again.

  Chapter Four

  Rhian’s head was a quiet place for the first time in weeks.

  He let go of his c
oncerns about his place on the team, the apprehension that had steadily risen since the day he’d arrived. Was he playing hard enough? Did he have what it took? He’d made himself a little crazy, but it drove him to play better. Work harder. It had gotten him to the NHL.

  Right now, though, it didn’t matter at all.

  Even on the most stressful days, no worry about his career compared to the gut wrenching anxiety of knowing he didn’t have a place in Garrick’s life. It gnawed at him, scraping him to the bone. He spent hours every day at the gym, going miles on the treadmill, stretching, lifting. Any distraction so he wouldn’t think about it, knowing he would never be able to run fast or far enough to escape it.

  But now, lying beneath Garrick, he let himself forget.

  He thought he should be embarrassed that not only did he have some weird need to have his boyfriend lie on top of him, but his boyfriend was more than aware of that need. Fortunately, if the firm grip on his hands and completely relaxed body draped over him was any indication, Garrick didn’t mind accommodating his bizarre issues.

  Rhian would sigh, but he didn’t want to draw so deep a breath. Or let it out. The calm, steady pull and release of his lungs was too good to disturb. That Garrick’s breath matched his perfectly made it almost hypnotic. He was warm, in spite of the cool air leaking through the cheap aluminum windows. At home, in spite of the butt-ugly polyester bedspread beneath his cheek and the cheesy art on the walls.

  But then, home wasn’t a place. It was the two hundred and thirty some-odd pounds of man plastered to his back, patiently smashing him to the bed the way he desperately needed.

  He wanted to lie like this for hours, but the press of Garrick’s semi-erect cock against Rhian’s thigh teased the edges of his awareness. His own cock stirred. He wriggled to make room for it against the bed and ended up with Garrick’s junk wedged against his ass.