Two Man Advantage

by Samantha Wayland

That got Rhian’s attention.

  “There are four partners,” Garrick explained. “Me, Callum Morrison, Duncan Morrison, and Edwin Lamont. No one is supposed to know that. No one does know it except some lawyers, the league, the partners, Rupert Smythe, Savannah, and now you.”

  Callum and Duncan Morrison were NHL super-stars. “Savannah Morrison,” he muttered, piecing it together.

  Garrick smiled a little. “Her brothers.”

  On top of everything else, learning his friend was the sister of two of his heroes seemed almost trivial.

  Garrick owns the Ice Cats?

  Two months ago the team had been up for sale and there had been talk they’d be disbanded when the only bidder had been shipped off to prison. Then some anonymous partners had gone in with the old owner and saved the team. Edwin Lamont had been the one threatening to shut them down, but somehow he’d been convinced to stick around and reinvest. Convinced, it seemed, by…Garrick?

  Shit. Without the new investors, Rhian had been facing the very real possibility of scrambling to find a new team. Garrick had saved his bacon. Everyone’s fucking bacon.

  Rhian rubbed his fingers against his temple. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch Garrick in the nose or kiss him.

  Garrick turned into his driveway, his headlights illuminating the front porch where Rupert Smythe stood with someone Rhian didn’t recognize.

  “Who’s with Smythe?”

  “Errr… that’s Reese.”

  A host of questions popped into Rhian’s head. He’d been as shocked as the rest of the team when it was announced Rupert was taking over when Mark left. For Christ’s sake, the man appeared to be terrified of his own shadow. Had Garrick been part of this crazy decision?

  “Is this Reese guy going to help Rupert manage the team?”

  “Rupert will be fine.” He said it like he was determined to make it true.

  “That’s why you’re retiring. Because you bought the team.” It wasn’t really a question, more like spouting out conclusions as the puzzle pieces fell into place.

  Garrick shook his head. “I’d be retiring regardless. Arthritis in my hip. And I don’t intend to be away from Savannah for another season.”

  Garrick had a bad hip?

  Rhian had thought he knew this man. Turned out, he didn’t know shit. God, he was an idiot. He knew better. Knew not to let his guard down, but like a fool, he’d trustedGarrick, and done…well, just thinking about what they’d done together made heat crawl up his neck.

  He couldn’t change that, so he’d focus on what he knew now. Garrick was his boss and was leaving to be with Savannah.

  What more information did he need, really?

  As soon as they came to a stop, he got out of the truck and threw the door shut.

  Garrick jolted when the door slammed with a loud crack. That had gone as badly as he’d feared it would. Worse, even.

  He had to fix this. He’d beg for forgiveness. Do whatever he had to do to convince Rhian he was his friend. He had to erase that look from Rhian’s eyes.

  He jumped from the truck. “Rhian. Wait.”

  Rhian stopped in the middle of the walkway to the front porch but didn’t turn around.

  Garrick ran to his side. “Please, listen to me.”

  “I trusted you.”

  Garrick staggered back at the hurt packed into those three little words.

  Rhian didn’t spare him a glance. He jogged up the porch stairs and nodded to the men watching them with avid interest.

  Garrick followed and unlocked his door on autopilot, while his mind cast around for a solution. He needed to talk to Rhian. He needed to meet with Reese and Rupert, and get them the fuck out of his house as quickly as possible. Christ on a crutch, he wanted to explode from being pulled in so many directions.

  Rhian strode into the front hall and stopped, looking between the stairs and the living room, clearly not certain where to go.

  Garrick spoke without thinking. “Go on up to bed. I’ll come up as soon as I can.”

  The words rang like a bell on a clear night, hanging in the air around them.

  God, and he’d thought Rhian had looked betrayed before? Garrick’s heart broke. He’d just done the unthinkable. He’d outed Rhian.

  Rhian’s eyes darted to the door. Garrick barely repressed the urge to tackle Rhian to the floor to keep him from leaving.

  He grabbed Rhian’s arm and dragged him away from Reese and Rupert. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “But I swear to god, Rhian, they can be trusted. Please believe me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Rhian just stood there, letting Garrick shake his arm as the words bounced off him.

  At last, Rhian blinked.

  When Garrick opened his mouth to apologize again, Rhian shook his head slowly in that way Garrick’s grandmother used to do to tell him just how horribly disappointed she was in him, then yanked his arm free.

  Garrick figured Rhian might try to hike the ten miles back to Moncton in the dead of night, but he turned and climbed up the stairs without another word for anyone.

  Jesus Christ, I really fucked it up this time. Garrick scrubbed his hands over his face while he listened to the creak of his stairs and the hallway above.

  He had barely registered that Rhian was walking toward the master bedroom when he was slammed back against the wall.

  “You’re fucking cheating on Savannah?” Reese was right in his face, an impressive effort given that Garrick was a good six inches taller. Rupert stood at Reese’s back, his face flushed with anger.

  Garrick met Reese’s glare calmly. “No.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Garrick,” Reese snarled. “Savannah’s been out of town, what, a month? And you can’t keep it in your fucking pants? She deserves better. And what kind of self-destructive bullshit are you into that you’d fuck around on the sister of your new business partners? Are you trying to fucking ruin us?”

  Garrick could shove Reese clear across the room and possibly into the next, via the wall, with little effort. God help him, one good growl would probably reduce Rupert to terror. He didn’t have the will or the energy to do either. In fact, he respected Reese for leaping to Savannah’s defense.

  He slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes. “It was her idea.”

  No one moved. He cracked his eyes back open in time to see Rupert and Reese exchange a look before Reese gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “Explain.”

  Garrick wondered idly if he’d be able to keep one fucking secret to himself tonight. Probably not. As one quarter owner of the Ice Cats and the man who’d taken a huge risk on Garrick, Edwin Reese Lamont had a right to know.

  With a long sigh, he told them about his deal with Savannah.

  Reese let go of his shirt sometime around his pink-cheeked admission that he was required to tell her everything. When he was finished, he left them to mull over his goddamn not-so-private life while he went to make coffee.

  They wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later.

  Garrick leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Anything else you want to know?”

  Reese ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. “Does she have a sister?”

  Garrick shot a look at Rupert, who was laughing until he saw Garrick’s expression.

  Rupert rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me.” He gestured at Reese. “The damn fool insists on being straight in spite of my best efforts to convince him of what he’s missing.”

  Huh. Garrick had assumed they were both gay. And together.

  “It’s true.” Reese said, sounding for all the world like he regretted being a disappointment to Rupert.

  Garrick was amazed to feel his lips twitch.

  While he poured the coffee, Reese and Rupert turned their attention to the paperwork he’d left spread out across his kitchen table. As usual, Rupert spouted off the numbers and projections from his head, hardly referring to any of the reports. Reese, meanwhile
, questioned every proposal and conclusion, entrenched in his role of devil’s advocate. For their first few meetings this had driven Garrick crazy. Now, god help him, he was starting to enjoy it.

  It wasn’t long before the roster made it to the top of the agenda and Garrick proposed trading Justin for a player out of Halifax who would better fill out their lines.

  He got no arguments—none, goddamn it—and they decided to proceed. Garrick carefully arranged his face in his most professional and neutral expression and doggedly ignored the way Reese kept looking at him like he was waiting for him to crack. He wasn’t going to crack. Trading Justin was the right thing to do for the team. That Reese didn’t pick at it meant they’d already figured this out and had been waiting for him to get the balls together to do it.

  Garrick refused to be embarrassed.

  They’d been sitting together for a few hours when Reese started pushing to wrap things up. Garrick had assumed they’d be working late into the night, given how much they had to catch up on. Unfortunately, every time they spoke about Rupert assuming his new duties tomorrow, he got paler and paler—and he was an Englishman, for crying out loud. He’d started out the color of milk.

  Garrick hoped like hell Rupert got his shit together fast. He knew Rupert could do the job. He just needed to man the fuck up.

  Garrick kept that and a host of other, similar suggestions to himself.

  Reese, on the other hand, looked like he was gagging on the need to give Rupert an earful the minute they were alone. Garrick was happy to leave that job to him.

  As they pulled on their coats, Garrick put his hand on Reese’s arm. “Can I tell Rhian?”

  “Tell him what?”

  “Who you really are.”

  Reese thought about it, glancing at Rupert, who nodded. “If you trust him.”

  “I do.”

  “I’m not sure he’s very happy with you right now. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No. He’s a good man. He can be trusted.”

  Reese sent Garrick a pitying look. “I bet you wish you’d thought of that before tonight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fine, tell him. Please make him understand that he needs to keep it to himself.”

  “He will.”

  Reese nodded, and with a final goodnight, he and Rupert went out to their waiting car.

  Garrick locked the door, straightened up the kitchen, and shut off the lights downstairs. He texted Savannah that he loved her and stared at his phone, hoping for a response in spite of the late hour. None came.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, he quit stalling and trudged up the stairs to his room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Rhian had fled up the stairs earlier, he’d marched straight to Garrick’s room with every intention of sitting in the chair and waiting until Garrick came to find him. Eventually, though, the late hour and his long day caught up with him. He’d contemplated hauling his carcass down the hall to the guest room, but he was afraid Garrick would avoid the conversation until morning.

  They needed to talk tonight.

  That was the only reason he was dead asleep on top of Garrick’s comforter, fully clothed beneath the soft quilt that had been folded over the foot of the bed, his head buried in pillows that smelled comfortingly of Garrick’s shampoo.

  He woke when Garrick sat on the bed beside him.

  “Am I welcome?” Garrick said quietly.

  Rhian rolled onto his back and sighed. “It’s your bed.”

  Garrick nodded, but didn’t make a move to get up or lie down. “I’m really sorry, Rhian.”

  Rhian believed him, he just wasn’t sure it made any goddamn difference. They were up to their asses in alligators and Garrick didn’t even know the half of it yet.

  “Out of curiosity, which part are you apologizing for? Not telling me that you bought the team? Or for outing us?”

  “Jesus. Both. Look, I should have told you about the Ice Cats. I wanted to. If I could go back, I would. You have to know I trust you. I just didn’t realize how hard it would be.”

  “Owning the team?”

  “No, not being one of the guys anymore.”

  “You’re still one of the guys, Garrick.”

  Garrick shook his head. “No, you were right. I’m the boss. One of them, anyway. I’ve even been doing Mark’s job for a while, actually. Until Rupert could get here and take over.”

  Rhian recalled the look on Rupert’s face when Garrick had made it glaringly obvious Rhian was supposed to tuck himself into Garrick’s bed to wait for him. “Jesus, Garrick. Rupert Smythe is our manager. I work for him—too.”

  Rhian shoved the quilt aside, but Garrick’s hand on his arm stopped him from sitting up.

  “Rupert is not going to tell anyone about us.”

  “Why not?”

  “In addition to being a decent guy who wouldn’t do shit like that, he’s gay. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that probably makes him sensitive to the issue.”

  That was marginally reassuring. “And what about the other guy? Who the hell was that?”

  Garrick smiled. “That’s Reese.”

  “Who?”

  “Edwin Reese Lamont.”

  Rhian’s mouth fell open. “That’s Edwin Lamont?”

  Garrick chuckled. “Yeah, I had the same reaction.”

  “I thought he was—”

  “Older? Uglier?” Garrick laughed and the sound tugged a smile from Rhian.

  He lay there, stunned, as Garrick explained that Reese chose to keep his identity a secret. Reese relied on the assumption that Edwin Lamont was some reclusive old dude who never left his estate on Nova Scotia so he could move freely in public.

  Rhian could tell by the way Garrick spoke about both Reese and Rupert that they were his friends. He trusted them. It helped Rhian relax a little.

  What really eased his mind, though, was that Rhian knew things about both Rupert and Reese that they didn’t want made public any more than Rhian did his love life. Mercenary? Yes. But also realistic. If tonight had proved nothing else, Rhian needed to get back to being realistic.

  “There’s more,” Garrick said quietly.

  Rhian’s stomach churned. This time Garrick didn’t stop him from sitting up. “What?”

  “We’re trading Justin. Tomorrow.”

  Rhian was sorry to hear that. Justin was a good man and would be missed. None of that explained the utter misery on Garrick’s face.

  “That’s too bad,” Rhian said slowly.

  “I understand if you’re angry.”

  Rhian was definitely missing something. “Why would I be angry?”

  Garrick frowned. “Don’t you get it?”

  Rhian shook his head. “I guess I don’t.”

  “It was my decision.” Garrick swallowed hard. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “I did it.”

  Rhian stared, horrified, at the sheen in Garrick’s eyes. He reached for Garrick, but he shied away and tried to stand up.

  Oh, hell no.

  He grabbed Garrick’s arm and forcibly hauled his unwilling friend against his chest. Rhian didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, having not actually hugged someone in…well, maybe ever. He kept on doing it anyway.

  It didn’t matter that Justin was leaving. Or that Rhian didn’t know why. Garrick wouldn’t do it unless it was the right thing to do. Just like Garrick wouldn’t run the team into the ground, jeopardizing the rest of the players and staff, just because what had to be done hurt like hell.

  With gut-churning dismay, Rhian accepted that he did know Garrick. That no matter what he’d learned today, he trusted him. Implicitly.

  It was stupid and reckless and probably going to cost him, but Rhian didn’t pretend he could change it.

  He pulled Garrick closer.

  Garrick pressed his face against his neck, his arms curling around Rhian’s back. With a deep sigh, Garrick melted against him.

  Something loosened in Rhian’s chest.r />
  Comfort. He’d given Garrick comfort, and he felt like a fucking hero.

  He buried his face in Garrick’s hair, inhaling the clean and familiar scent. This felt good. It felt real. It felt like…

  Rhian yanked his arms from around Garrick and fell back onto the bed. “I—”

  The words choked off in his throat.

  I love you.

  Holy fucking shit. This couldn’t be right. It couldn’t.

  He bolted upright, his legs pedaling until his back slammed against the headboard.

  “Rhian?”

  Garrick’s worried voice called to him through his spiraling panic. He looked at his friend, his lover, and shook his head frantically, flailing for an explanation for his behavior. For a reason to escape.

  Fuck reason.

  Leaping to his feet on the mattress, he made it one step toward the door before Garrick hooked his legs and threw him down on the bed.

  His mind went blank. He couldn’t draw enough air to scream. He thrashed, desperate to fight his way out. Away. He battled against Garrick’s hold.

  “Rhian! Rhian!”

  He had to get away. Back to his apartment. Lock himself in. Be safe.

  Not like this. He couldn’t stand to be like this.

  Heart pounding as if he’d sprinted for miles, he kept fighting. Garrick’s breath wheezed past Rhian’s ear when his elbow slammed into Garrick’s chest. He almost broke free. Then he was flying, the world spinning as he was lifted right off the bed and flipped face down.

  He howled with frustration and terror, his cry cut off when something huge and warm crashed down on his back and smashed him into the mattress. Garrick. He let out another hoarse shout and heaved upwards to throw the weight off. Garrick yanked his arms out from him and they slammed down onto the bed together. Powerful fingers threaded through his, stilling his hands.

  He gasped. Gasped again, drawing more air this time.

  At last he heard a voice.

  “Breathe, baby. You have to breathe.”

  He did. Once. Twice. The pain in his chest easing. The chaos in his brain cleared enough that he could focus on Garrick’s voice. His scent. His warm weight.

  Shuddering, Rhian sank deep into the cool cotton beneath them. Defeated.