Two Man Advantage

by Samantha Wayland

  “You have a point.” It did make him feel less stupid about being so conflicted, even if it didn’t make him any less conflicted.

  “I know you’ll do the right thing, Garrick.”

  Whatever the fuck the right thing is. “Thank you.”

  That she didn’t offer her opinion, while handing him her absolute faith, meant the world. It was time to live up to that faith.

  “I have other news,” he began carefully.

  “Oh?”

  He couldn’t figure out what to say. Apparently, that was all the hint she needed.

  She inhaled sharply. “Oh!”

  For the life of him he couldn’t tell if that was shock, excitement, or horror in her voice. He held his breath until she started to laugh.

  “Well, for god’s sake, are you going to tell me about it? We had a deal, you know.”

  Garrick sighed and closed his eyes. Relief flooded him. “Are you sure?”

  “Am I—? Garrick, I’m fine.”

  Garrick grinned at the ceiling. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said quickly. She sounded sincere, and like she sincerely didn’t want to talk about it at the moment. “Now spill.”

  He chuckled. “Uhhh…”

  “Garrick!”

  “No, I’m not stalling. I swear. I don’t know where to start.”

  She practically purred. “That sounds promising. Start at the beginning. Where did you meet him?”

  “Well, actually,” he said, realizing the single most shocking thing he had to tell her was probably the identity of his lover. He was still a little shocked by it himself. “It’s Rhian.”

  “Rhian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Rhian who? Not… Oh my god. Please don’t tell me you mean Rhian Savage.” She sounded like she was begging him to do just that.

  He chuckled. “The one.”

  It was her turn to fall silent. Garrick wondered what she was thinking.

  Then she let out a long, almost painful sounding moan. “I think I’m jealous.”

  Garrick bolted upright. “What?”

  She immediately shushed him. “No, not like that, you idiot. I mean I’m jealous you got to be with him. I mean, wow. Those eyes. The hair. And don’t get me started on that freaking body. There isn’t an inch of it that shouldn’t be licked.”

  Garrick flopped back down on the bed with a shudder. God, she was so right.

  “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”

  He did.

  They only lasted until the part where Rhian had Garrick’s cock lodged against the back of his throat before he could hear a distinct buzzing over the phone line and his hand was flying over his cock. His brain was barely able to create speech and process the little sounds coming from Savannah while reliving what he had done with Rhian. He recalled perfectly Rhian’s taste, his scent, the sounds his lover had made that night. He didn’t spare a single detail.

  Savannah dropped her phone when she came, but he heard her cries clearly enough to be dragged over the edge with her, his chest and abs dotted with his release.

  For a long while, all he could do was breathe and stare at the ceiling. That had been almost as satisfying as being with an actual person.

  Only Savannah could figure out a way to perfect phone sex.

  After a cacophony of thunks and static, Savannah finally fumbled the phone back to her ear. “God, I want to see that.”

  “What?” he croaked.

  “Rhian Savage deep-throating you,” she whispered, breathless.

  He groaned, shocked to feel a tingle zip through his groin. Jesus, after that orgasm, his junk should be out of commission for hours. But then he told her about how Rhian lost his voice, and it wasn’t long before she came again. He told her everything. About the sex, the surprises, the long night asleep, foster care, and how they’d blown all over each other in the shower the next morning.

  By her final orgasm, he’d caught up again too.

  Chapter Ten

  Rhian slogged out of the Moncton arena to his car, checking over his shoulder to be sure he wasn’t being pursued. Three times today he’d had to dodge Garrick. He would have sworn that after five days, the guy would have given up.

  It was his pride, Rhian was sure. Garrick was pissed because Rhian was avoiding him, which he could admit wasn’t the most mature thing he’d ever done. But when he’d chased Garrick into his room all those nights ago, he hadn’t expected…that.

  He couldn’t remember what he had been expecting, but not that.

  Then Steve had shown up at Garrick’s door. This was a big problem for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being that Rhian had experimented with other men while he was living with Steve. He’d never once thought Steve, or anyone else in that house, had known. But after Steve had shown up at Garrick’s room, Rhian had to wonder. And worry.

  Had Steve seen him chase Garrick out of the bar? Followed them?

  The idea plagued Rhian and had him scanning the parking lot before pulling out into traffic. He watched the cars behind him as he drove, but quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was tailing him. It was almost midnight and most of the cars were probably Ice Cats fans, dragging their asses home from the game.

  Rhian had fled the locker room as quickly as he could, but when he pulled up in front of his crappy apartment, he wished he hadn’t been in such a hurry. Going out with the guys, even if it meant avoiding Garrick, would have been better than sitting home alone.

  Annoyed at his thoughts, he stalked up the stairs, his key out and almost in the lock before he realized the door was already open.

  With just the tip of his key, he swung his door back, wondering if he’d somehow failed to pull it fully shut on his way out that morning. He was generally careful about those things.

  Then he saw the wreckage that had once been his butt-ugly living room.

  Shit.

  He sighed, pulled out his phone, and dialed 911. He spoke briefly to the dispatcher, who instructed him to wait out on the curb for the cruisers to show up.

  It was while he was standing there, freezing his balls off, he did either the stupidest or the bravest thing possible.

  He called Garrick.

  Garrick was still sitting in the locker room when his phone rang. To say he was surprised to see Rhian’s number come up on the screen would be a vast understatement.

  “Hello?” He didn’t bother to keep the disbelief from his voice.

  There was a long pause. Wouldn’t it be perfect if Rhian had butt-dialed him by accident?

  “Hey,” Rhian said at last.

  Garrick didn’t say anything. After five days of being ignored, this was Rhian’s show.

  “I ahh…I was wondering what you’re doing?”

  “Right now? This very minute?” Garrick wasn’t going to make it easy. Why should he?

  “Yeah,” Rhian said, suddenly sounding very tired.

  Garrick stuck to his hard-assed guns for all of twenty seconds in the face of that dejected tone.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah…no.” Rhian huffed out an impatient curse. “Someone broke into my apartment. Trashed the place.”

  Garrick stood. “What?”

  “It’s okay. It’s just stuff. But—”

  “Where are you?” Garrick tugged on his coat.

  “At my place.”

  Garrick narrowly resisted pointing out that his address, up until this point, was something of a state secret. Instead, he managed a polite, “What’s your address?”

  Rhian told him and Garrick felt an—admittedly stupid—surge of victory. He promised Rhian he’d be right there and took off for his car.

  Ten minutes later, he parked behind the cruisers, their lights flashing, and searched for Rhian in front of the worn but serviceable apartment building. He climbed out of his truck when Rhian came out the front door with a duffel bag on his shoulder.

  “Hey!”

  Rhian veered t
oward him, his pleasure at seeing Garrick dimming with each step closer. Garrick would bet money Rhian was just now remembering that he’d been a total dickhead for the better part of a week.

  As much as he’d like to torture Rhian about that, he’d save it for later when they had more privacy. He took the bag from Rhian when he was within reach.

  “This coming with us?”

  Rhian blinked. “Uhhh…”

  Garrick didn’t smile, though it was a struggle. “I assume you’re coming back to my place tonight? To crash?” He added the last part when Rhian started to look a little panicky. Garrick was in no mood to wrestle the idiot on his front lawn, and he had no idea who would be sleeping where, in any case.

  “Is that okay?” Rhian asked.

  Garrick nodded once. “More than.”

  Rhian sighed. “Okay. Thank you. I don’t want to stay here until the locks are fixed.”

  Garrick stowed the bag while Rhian wandered back inside. Once Garrick had locked his truck, he jogged up the walk and went in after him.

  Standing in Rhian’s front door, Garrick frowned at the destruction. Dishes were smashed, the shards scattered across the ancient faux-tile linoleum floor of the tiny kitchen. The living room’s ubiquitous brown plaid upholstery was ripped in more places than it was intact, with cotton and foam tossed all over the cheap beige carpet. The blinds had been torn from the two windows he could see, the contents of the front hall closet—winter coats and hockey equipment—spilled from the door and were strewn across the hallway and counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

  In the thirty seconds it took to take it all in, Garrick learned two things. One, Rhian lived like a pauper and had less crap than anyone he’d ever met. Two, whoever had done this hadn’t been looking for good stuff to steal, otherwise they wouldn’t have smashed the TV. Whoever had done this had been pissed.

  Rhian stood in front of his ruined entertainment center, shaking his head while the cops asked him questions. Garrick stepped into the room when the crime scene techs arrived and goosed him out of the door.

  He went to Rhian’s side and listened to him explain that nothing appeared to have been stolen and that with the exception of the clothes, hockey equipment, and TV, none of this stuff was his anyway.

  That at least explained how Rhian had come to possess furniture that had been fashionable before he was born, if ever. It didn’t explain why a guy with a decent job lived like this. Garrick had purchased his farmhouse when he’d been Rhian’s age, embarking on a restoration project that had taken most of the last decade.

  Rhian, on the other hand, lived like a refugee.

  More questions Garrick didn’t have the heart, or maybe the right, to ask.

  It was late by the time the cops cut them loose and said they’d be in touch. Garrick clapped a hand on Rhian’s shoulder and steered him outside.

  Rhian stopped on the sidewalk by Garrick’s bumper. “I should take my own car.”

  Garrick pointed behind him. “You mean the one blocked in by a cruiser and the crime scene guys?”

  Rhian’s shoulders slumped.

  Garrick almost felt sorry for him. “I’ll bring you back in the morning before we go to practice,” he promised.

  Rhian studied Garrick. Garrick kept his face perfectly neutral.

  “Okay,” Rhian said at last and climbed into the truck.

  Garrick allowed himself one small smile while Rhian wasn’t looking and jogged around the nose of his car. He was surprised to spot Deena standing across the street, almost not recognizing her in the streetlamp’s dim light. He smiled and waved, but she turned and strode away without seeing him.

  He hopped into his seat and started the engine. “That was weird, huh?”

  “Which part, the breaking or the entering? Or maybe the shredding?”

  “No, I mean Deena.”

  Rhian sat up. “What?”

  “I just saw her. Does she live around here?”

  “Not that I’ve ever noticed.”

  They both sat quietly and digested that. Neither commented on the likelihood that she had something to do with the wreckage in Rhian’s apartment.

  Rhian didn’t know what to think about the vandalism, or about Deena hanging out on his street. Tonight of all nights? It seemed like too much coincidence to him, and this kind of crazy destructive crap was right up Steve’s alley.

  At the risk of adding to the shit storm, he’d mention Steve and Deena to the cops when he went in to see them tomorrow. He should have thought of Steve immediately. Why hadn’t he? He was getting soft up here in the boonies, foolishly believing he’d left Chicago behind.

  He rolled his head to the side to stare at Garrick’s profile in the reflected light of the dashboard. He hated that Garrick had been exposed to the ugliness that used to be a staple of Rhian’s life.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said quietly.

  “It’s not a problem.” Garrick glanced over at Rhian. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I was hoping to talk to you, as you may have noticed,” he said dryly.

  Rhian cringed. He wasn’t surprised Garrick was tackling it head on but Rhian would have rather pretended it had never happened.

  Well, no, that wasn’t true. He’d never forget it. He just didn’t want to discuss it.

  “Why are you avoiding me, Rhi?”

  Rhian grappled to come up with a reasonable explanation. He landed on the truth. “I figured it was a one-time thing and I needed time to cool off.”

  “So we’re still friends?”

  Jesus Christ, this shit was complicated. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.” He blew out a deep breath. “I guess that’s why I needed to cool off.”

  Garrick’s forehead creased. “Because we’re still friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “And because it was a one-time thing,” Garrick said, the barest hint of a question in his voice.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  Garrick pursed his lips before saying, “I’m neither psychic nor willing to force you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t get to unilaterally decide it wasn’t a one-time thing.”

  Garrick wants more. Rhian heart beat harder. He lifted his head. “You’re in love with Savannah.”

  “I am.”

  “We’re hockey players.”

  “We are.”

  “Steve showed up at your room.”

  “He did.”

  Rhian threw up his hands. He was grasping at goddamn straws and, if he were honest, it wasn’t because he was trying to put Garrick off. A simple “no” would suffice there. What he was desperately trying to do was put himself off.

  It was a bad idea. He knew it. But god help him, he wanted it anyway.

  “For what it’s worth,” Garrick said, “I’m not worried about Steve. He doesn’t know shit. Neither do the Ice Cats. We’re just friends, hanging out. I promise you, I would never do anything to put you at risk.”

  “I know.” And he did. Otherwise they wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

  “As to your first point, Savannah knows everything and is fine. She says hi.”

  “Savannah…she…Jesus…” Rhian trailed off. His cheeks burned. Garrick had said he’d tell her about them, but the reality of her knowing “everything” was a little embarrassing.

  Desperate to move on, Rhian said the first thing that came to mind. “She sent the Bruins to look at me.”

  He was feeling pretty guilty about that, too. She was doing nice things to advance his career and he was fucking around with her boyfriend. How’s that for gratitude?

  One side of Garrick’s mouth curled up. “She mentioned they might come by.”

  “She what?” Rhian glared at Garrick. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

  “As it turns out, the scout was here before I even knew about it, so it wouldn’t have mattered. And I’m not sure I would have told you in any case. Savannah probably wasn’t meant to tel
l me, and you might have been nervous.”

  “I could have upped my game!”

  Garrick laughed. “Oh right, because you’re half-assing it the rest of the time?”

  Rhian didn’t have a response, other than the desire to give Garrick the finger. He resisted. Barely.

  “Dude,” Garrick said, clearly exasperated, “relax. You’ve got all you need to get there. Savannah wouldn’t have sent them otherwise.”

  Rhian’s anger dissolved. He busted his ass to be the kind of player who could get picked up by the NHL, but Garrick believing it soothed something that had been jangling around in Rhian’s head.

  Jesus, he was getting stupider every minute he was hanging out with this guy.

  Rhian slouched into his seat. “That’s why Sergio was looking for me in Charlottetown. They reached out to him to ask about my contract.”

  “Which you very cleverly had written so that you can get released to the B’s with almost no fuss.”

  Rhian looked at Garrick. “How’d you know that?”

  Garrick opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he answered. “Because you told me?”

  Rhian didn’t remember doing that. It wasn’t like him to tell other people his shit. He was about to question Garrick further when they crested a gentle rise and Garrick’s farmhouse came into view.

  The white clapboard was hardly visible from this distance, but the warm yellow lights in the windows glowed in the middle of the barren winter field. The house sat a few hundred yards back from the road, the big red barn in back a dark shadow at this time of night.

  Most of the people Rhian had ever known were hockey players or foster kids. They either had never had a home or were passing through town too quickly to bother making one in whatever city they’d landed. And while most of them weren’t quite as ready to bail as Rhian, no one had been settling down, either.

  That had to be the reason Garrick’s house freaked Rhian out. It was so warm. Comfortable. Permanent. It was exactly what a much younger and dumber Rhian had pictured when he’d imagined the family that had never come to take him home.

  Why did I think it was a good idea to come here?