End Game

by Samantha Wayland

  Chapter Seven

  Savannah doubled over and howled with laughter at Rhian’s inarticulate gurgle. His face burned. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

  “Okay, sorry. Sorry!” She warded off any response from him with flapping hands. “I’m just teasing. I couldn’t resist. I mean, you have to admit, this is all kind of…” Her hands waved around again, as if trying pluck the right word from the air.

  “Fucking bizarre?” he offered.

  Her hands dropped into her lap. “I was going to go with surreal.”

  Rhian huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”

  She opened the bottles of beer, handed him one, took a sip of hers and waited quietly, gaze direct, not giving him an inch. Damn. He liked it better when she was screaming and shouting.

  He swallowed hard. “I found a lump. A couple weeks ago.”

  He said the words too fast, the confessional equivalent of ripping off the Band-Aid.

  She paused with the bottle halfway to her lips, then gently placed it on the table.

  “Where?”

  “In my...my testicle.” The stutter wasn’t because he was embarrassed. He was petrified. Somehow saying the words out loud to the very efficient nurse on the phone hadn’t been this scary. “I have an appointment in a few days to see a doctor to have it looked at.”

  “Where?”

  “The right.”

  Savannah paused and cocked her head in confusion. Then she chuckled. “No, not where…okay, good to know. Thanks.” She shook her head, smiling wryly. “Where’s the appointment?”

  He turned that awful shade of red again. “Dr. Kantov at Dana Farber.”

  Savannah nodded. “You can’t do better for cancer care.”

  Bright lights burst to life before his eyes and he swayed in his seat.

  “Whoa!” Savannah lunged forward and grabbed his arms.

  “I don’t know if it’s cancer,” he choked out.

  “What?”

  “I haven’t been tested yet. Maybe it’s nothing.”

  Savannah sat back, watching him. That see-right-through-you stare again. Why on earth had he told her?

  “It’s okay to be scared.”

  Rhian nodded. There was no denying he was terrified. It didn’t mean he wanted to admit it. Or discuss it. God, she was just like Garrick. She was going to want to talk about it.

  “I don’t talk about my feelings.”

  She blinked, eyebrows lifting.

  He sighed. “Ever.”

  It brought back painful memories of sitting in the state-funded shrink’s office in Chicago, the stranger behind the desk searching for a reason to pull him out of his foster family and place him in a group home. To move him again. The family hadn’t liked him—an entirely mutual feeling—but they’d coped by sending him to the rink to play hockey every minute he wasn’t in school or asleep.

  He was startled from that memory when Savannah snorted with laughter and dropped her forehead into her palm.

  “God help me, only Garrick.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Forget I said it.” She waved a dismissive hand and sat up. “The only thing that matters is that he’s in love with you.”

  Rhian’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “Don’t say that!”

  “What?”

  How could she be so nonchalant about it? “It’s not true. It’s not—”

  “Rhian,” she snapped, and he flinched. Her glare held him in place when he wanted to run from the room. “Garrick loves you.”

  He stared at her, mute.

  She sighed and pierced him with her see-everything gaze again. “Look, I know it’s weird to hear it from me. But I also know it’s goddamn true. You think I’d be putting up with this crap if it wasn’t serious?”

  “You shouldn’t…”

  “Shouldn’t what? Accept it? Well, I do. Like it? I can’t pretend it was Plan A. Or Z. I’m not thrilled about it, okay? But that doesn’t make it a lie.”

  “You should hate me.”

  “Hate you?” Savannah asked, bewildered. “Is that what you think?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Christ,” she muttered, pushing the loose strands of her hair off her face. At some point she’d slid to the edge of the table, her knees pressed against his inner thighs. It was the only warm spot on his body.

  “I don’t hate you, Rhian.”

  Yeah, right.

  She took his hand and pulled it into her lap. He usually didn’t like to be touched—except by Garrick—but she had him pinned beneath her stare and against her legs. Not that these things explained why he clung to her fingers like a drowning man.

  “Listen to me,” Savannah said quietly. “I don’t hate you. And I’m not mad. Not really. Yes, it isn’t ideal, but that’s hardly the most important thing right now, is it?”

  He looked down at their joined fingers, overwhelmed by her kindness.

  “Is there someone in Boston who can help you through this? Someone to go to the appointment with you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. There had never been anyone else, anywhere, who would help him through this. He could do this alone. Didn’t need anyone. Had proven that time and again in his twenty-four years.

  He was saved from saying something foolish, like please don’t leave me, by a knock on the door.

  Savannah set out their dinner on the breakfast bar while Rhian sat on the couch and stared into space. She had to keep busy, give the appearance she was just getting things done. In reality, she was one deep breath from locking herself in the bathroom and bawling her eyes out.

  She’d left the arena ready to rip Rhian a new asshole. It should have been easy, quick, and relatively painless, for her anyway. Instead, he’d confessed anyone’s deepest fear. She’d felt like someone had punched her in the chest when his voice cracked over the word “cancer”.

  There was something about this guy. A hidden vulnerability beneath the thick skin. She wanted to wring his neck one moment, then climb on his lap and hug the stuffing out of him the next. What the fuck was that?

  Dangerous stuff. No wonder Garrick had fallen on his face for the man.

  At least now she knew why he’d been quiet for the past couple weeks, and maybe why he’d started that damn fight at the game last night.

  But why cut Garrick off?

  A very small, petty voice in her head suggested she ought to leave and let Rhian keep hiding. End the confusion and frustration. Keep Garrick all to herself.

  She pictured Garrick’s anguished expression again. Imagined what his reaction would be to learning Rhian had found that damn lump.

  She squashed the nasty internal voice and got down to business.

  “Come eat,” she ordered, pointing at Rhian’s plate on the other side of the bar. She chose to eat standing in the kitchen, the cabinets between them. A pitiful shield at best.

  Rhian slid onto a stool. “You’re really bossy, you know that?”

  “Six brothers,” she said between bites. “You have no idea how bad I can get.”

  A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. She stuffed another heap of pork lo mien into her mouth. No amount of separation-by-cabinet would be sufficient defense from Rhian Savage.

  The image of Rhian bent over the counter, his ass jammed full of frozen butt plug, popped into her head. Again.

  Thanks a lot, Garrick. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind he was responsible for the nice—rather large—surprise in the freezer. He’d mentioned wanting to try it with her. He apparently already had, or was about to, with Rhian.

  She stopped chewing, her mouth full of food, and waited for the bitter sting of jealousy.

  Nope.

  The only thing different was now she knew what she’d be thinking about when she next brought herself to orgasm.

  She really was wired differently, and there was nothing wrong with that. On top of everything else he’d given her, Garrick had taught her not to be ashamed of what she liked, and
to ask for what she wanted.

  Maybe he was teaching Rhian the same.

  She took a sip of beer to hide her smirk. She’d teased him about the plug and he’d turned such a dark red, she’d worried he was going to stroke out.

  They ate in silence. He sat on the edge of his stool and shot her increasingly frequent looks. She didn’t respond, but watched to see he ate most of his food.

  He could joke about his diet, but with a body like that, and a gym habit like his, he needed to take in a hell of a lot of fuel. If he was facing a major illness, he needed to maintain his current strength and fitness.

  The lecture hovered on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed it back. No point going down that road until they knew there was something to it. Not all lumps were cancer, right?

  She had no idea what the hell else it could be, but hoped there existed other possibilities. She made a mental note to call her brother Murdoch. As a doctor, he could give her a crash course on all of the potential outcomes.

  Rhian cracked open his fortune cookie and smiled.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “Once you find a problem, take hold of it with both hands.”

  “Might make walking around a bit of a challenge for you.”

  Rhian laughed, a real, full-bodied sound that ended abruptly. “Wait, did you just make a joke about the lump in my junk?”

  She shrugged. “Did you just laugh at it?”

  He blinked, a smile still hovering on his face. He was too handsome by far, his laugh entirely too engaging.

  Savannah pushed her plate away. Might as well get this over with.

  “Why’d you do it, Rhian?”

  The smile disappeared. “What?”

  “Why’d you cut Garrick off?” The temper she’d banked started to simmer again.

  Face pale, he stared down at his empty plate. “You know why.”

  “I have no idea. Honestly. It seems to me you’ve never needed him more.”

  He shook his head. “Have you seen how stressed out he is? He’s got too much going on already. I didn’t want to drag him into my shit.”

  “Drag him into your shit?” she repeated, wondering if she’d heard him wrong.

  “Yeah. He’s better off without having to deal with me being sick.”

  She glared at him until he looked up at her. His imploring gaze, silently pleading for her to understand, sent her over the edge.

  “You. Fucking. Asshole.”

  Rhian jumped to his feet.

  She hoped he tried to run. She’d love an excuse to tackle his stupid ass to the floor. He held his ground, though, when she came around the counter and got in his face.

  “You think that’s how this works? That you get to tell that man you love him and then walk away without so much as a word? That you get to decide what’s best for him?”

  “But what if—”

  She wouldn’t even let him finish the thought. “You know what? Fuck you. That man loves you with all his damn heart. Don’t you get it? He didn’t just throw those words out because he thought it might be true or because you needed to hear them. God knows, they haven’t been convenient for any of us. He said them because they’re true. And they mean something. Something that you, apparently, don’t even fucking understand.”

  She stopped to catch her breath. She shook with the desire to holler more, possibly cry and certainly smack Rhian upside the head. She’d been willing to share Garrick with this piece of shit?

  “You’re right.” He said it so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him.

  “What?”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. I’m not sure what it means.”

  He looked so damn lost, she bit back the scathing retort on the tip of her tongue.

  “I thought you loved him.”

  He swallowed. “I do. I think.”

  “You think?”

  Rhian stared at his feet, his face flushed, eyes blinking fast. “You’re right. I should know. And he should be with someone who understands these things.” He looked at her and she steeled herself against the sheen of moisture in his eyes. “He already has someone who understands. He’s better off without me.”

  She cast around in her head for a good argument, something to stop him from giving it all away, giving her what she wanted. This was all wrong.

  His smile was sad. “Weird as it is, I feel better knowing he has you. You’ll help him. Make him happy.”

  Savannah’s stomach twisted. Her arguments honed down to a few simple truths. “You make him happy, too. He loves you.” She could never have tolerated sharing him otherwise.

  Rhian shook his head, retrieved her bag and handed it to her. She took it automatically, standing there stunned while he walk over and opened his door.

  “I’d like you to go now.”

  Rhian stood in his front door, staring at the wall over Savannah’s shoulder, and waited.

  “What do you mean you don’t understand?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Just what you said. I don’t know what it means when Garrick says he loves me.” He hated having to explain this, particularly to her, but she deserved an honest answer. “No one has ever said it before, okay? How the hell would I know what it means?”

  Chapter Eight

  Rhian watched, dismayed, as Savannah stomped into the living room and plunked down on the coffee table.

  “Come here.” She pointed at his spot on the couch in front of her.

  He trudged across the room and sat. They settled with her knees between his again. Savannah put her hands in her lap, not trying to take hold of him. He kept his hands tucked under his thighs, just in case.

  “What would you do if Garrick called and said he had cancer?”

  A bolt of pure terror shot through him. “Don’t ever say that!”

  She nodded as if he’d answered something for her. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, trying to calm his racing heart. “I’d go to Moncton. To help him. Hear what was going on. I’d want…”

  He stopped. He’d already said more than enough to make her point.

  “What?” she prompted. When he shook his head, she put a hand on his knee and squeezed. “Say it.”

  “I’d want to hold him,” he confessed quietly.

  Her grip on his knee gentled but she didn’t let go. “And how would you feel if he told you he wouldn’t allow it? That you had to stay away, and he wasn’t going to tell you what was going on.”

  His throat tightened. “Pissed.”

  “Because it would be so fucking…”

  “Unfair,” he whispered in utter defeat.

  That was what he’d been. Unfair.

  “Rhian Savage, you know exactly what love means. You just have to accept it’s a two way street.”

  He blinked furiously, fighting the sting in his eyes.

  “Do you love Garrick?” she asked again.

  “Yes.”

  “Does he make you happy?”

  He almost smiled. “When he’s not scaring the shit out of me.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said, taking both his hands. He didn’t remember putting them next to hers on his thighs. “He scares the hell out of me, too. All the time. His love is so big. And he’s so damn…”

  “Fearless?”

  She laughed. “Yes, he’s fearless, isn’t he? Though, to be honest, I think we scare the shit out of him, too. Particularly this whole”—she gestured between them—“loving two people thing. I think he worries about that, about us, all the time.”

  Rhian nodded. It was true. Didn’t make it less weird to be talking about it with her, though.

  She squeezed his hands. “You need to get used to it, too.”

  “What? That he loves you too?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned, confused. “I am. I mean, I knew about you from the beginning. You know that.”

  “Then what—”

  “It’s just weird to be here. With you,” he said.
“No, wait. I take that back. It’s weird that it’s not…weirder. By all rights, you should…” Her black look stopped him from saying hate me. “You should be annoyed by me, how’s that? But you seem remarkably…”

  “Cool?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “Awesome?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The nicest and most incredible girlfriend ever?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  She laughed and his heart skipped a beat. He suddenly remembered asking her out, not so very long ago, and it wasn’t hard to recall why. Her jade green eyes danced, mesmerizing him.

  She reached for her bag and fished out an iPad. “Okay, then. Let’s call Garrick.”

  Rhian froze. Oh shit.

  Garrick lay in bed, his hand splayed atop the iPad at his hip, silently praying it would chime. His phone was in his other hand, same deal.

  He’d been like this for over an hour, desperate to hear from Savannah. Or Rhian, though he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope for that. All he knew was that Savannah was tackling the issue once and for all, per her cryptic text message. He had no idea what the hell that meant, but he trusted her.

  When his iPad chimed, he bolted upright, propped himself against the headboard, and answered Savannah’s hail.

  “Hey, baby.” He forced a smile.

  His lungs locked up when Rhian appeared on the screen. He looked terrible, ravaged, but Garrick had never seen a more welcome sight.

  “Rhian.”

  Rhian stared at him, as seemingly shocked as Garrick to be on the call.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Rhian said quietly. He paused. “No.”

  Garrick gripped his iPad so tightly, he worried it might crack. “What’s wrong?”

  Rhian still didn’t answer.

  “Rhian, please, talk to me. What’s going on?”

  The screen shifted as Savannah sat down next to Rhian. He watched her pry one of Rhian’s hands off the iPad and lace it with hers. She looked sad. Rhian looked terrified.

  Garrick’s fear went through the roof.

  “Please, god, tell me. What the fuck is going on? What happened?”

  Savannah pursed her lips, shushing him silently, and he subsided. The next two minutes were some of the longest of his life, but he waited patiently for Rhian to say something.