End Game

by Samantha Wayland

  “Go ahead. Ask me.”

  “Do you remember her leaving? What happened?”

  She didn’t know the truth. So he told her. All of it. Even how he’d ended up with his new name. He didn’t spare her a detail, or soften anything about either of her parents. Her direct and weirdly familiar blue stare told him he could be honest.

  By the end, her fingers were tightly knotted in her lap, her shoulders hunched.

  “I’m sorry, Rhian.”

  Rhian waved it away. Having told Savannah, then Garrick, and bits and pieces of it to the Morrison brothers, it didn’t bite at him like it had when he was the only one who knew.

  “It’s okay. I turned out pretty well in the end, I hope,” he said lightly.

  It was his stock answer when people expressed their sympathy over his craptastic childhood, though most didn’t know the half of it. This time, though, for the very first time in his life, he meant it. He was doing okay. It hadn’t broken him.

  “So, how did you figure it out?” he asked. “I can’t imagine your mother admitted it.”

  “What? To abandoning you? Hell no.”

  “Then how?”

  Chelsea smiled. “I’m nosey. It’s a great failing of mine, as Grandfather likes to point out. Constantly. He’s always promising I’m going to regret what I discover, but since that day I found your birth certificate, I’ve become an expert at snooping.”

  One hundred questions nearly choked Rhian, but he stuck with the here and now. “How long ago was that?”

  “Four years, almost. I had to go slow. It took me a few weeks just to make a copy, then even longer to withdraw enough money to pay a PI and not alert Grandfather.”

  Rhian choked on his coffee. “You hired a PI at age fourteen? That’s pretty precocious.”

  Chelsea grinned. “Nosey, remember? And I wanted to know the truth. The mother’s name on the certificate was Diane Williams, which intrigued me since I had to assume it was my mother—there are no other Dianes in my family—and my godfather’s name is Robert Williams. He lives in Back Bay. There was no father listed, but her last name and your middle name made me wonder.”

  She watched him closely and he told himself not to ask. He flinched when her hand covered his.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Rhian took a long sip of his coffee and checked to see Garrick and Savannah’s gazes riveted on him. He took a deep breath. “No, tell me.”

  “I’ve heard the stories about my mom’s disappearance and then coming back years later, hooked on all kinds of crap and pregnant with me. Buddy in tow. But I’d never heard she’d lost a child. I figured she didn’t want to talk about it, but I wanted to know. Especially because Robbie—my godfather—has been like a father to me my entire life, and I thought he might be your biological father. That he might not know.”

  “You seem to have understood your mother pretty well for a kid that age.”

  “She’s good at a lot of things, but pretending to give a crap about anyone but herself—and maybe Buddy—isn’t one of them.”

  Rhian grunted. That certainly jived with his memory, as well.

  “You look a little like him. Robbie. Something about the chin and lips.”

  Rhian swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  She patted the back of his hand. Comforted by an eighteen-year-old girl.

  An eighteen-year-old girl who just happened to be his sister.

  “Anyway, as you can imagine, I didn’t learn what I expected, which was, frankly, where you were buried.” She cringed in apology. “Which, of course, I’m really glad about.”

  He smiled a little. “Me, too.”

  “Then a couple years ago I confronted her and she flipped her lid. I mean, really wigged the fuck out.”

  She hesitated, biting her lip.

  “You’re not going to get any shit from me about swearing,” he said with a chuckle.

  She grinned. “Right. Anyway, since then, she’s been different. Not that she wasn’t a pain in the ass before, but for the past two years, she’s been little more to me than the roommate who pays the bills.”

  And here Rhian had thought it wasn’t possible for him to hate his mother any more than he had already. “I’m sorry.”

  It was Chelsea’s turn to wave it away. “Hell, it’s probably a blessing. I got the worst of it to stop by threatening to tell Grandfather. Now she’s afraid of me, which infuriates her, but keeps her in check.”

  “Does she know I’m here?”

  “I don’t think so. I didn’t tell her jack shit, I promise, and I doubt she had someone look you up after I did.”

  Rhian hardly flinched. “Okay. Let’s not tell her.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And Buddy?”

  Chelsea sighed. “In a fit of absolute stupidity, I told him about you, though not your name or anything. He must have figured out who you were when he saw you that night. We do kinda look alike.”

  “Just a little,” Rhian said with a smile.

  “I don’t think he has any idea who you are, or what you do, but if he comes near you, tell me.”

  Rhian didn’t like the idea of Chelsea locking horns with that ugly bastard. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me.”

  “There’s no risk. I’ll just threaten to go to Grandfather. Buddy won’t do anything to hurt Mom or put his trust fund at risk.”

  “Would your grandfather even care?”

  “Care? He’d flip his fucking lid. I’ve almost told him a hundred times, but I couldn’t. He’d never forgive her, which I don’t really give a shit about, but I don’t think he’d ever forgive himself either. He’d be devastated that she’d left you. That he had a grandchild he didn’t know about.”

  “Maybe he’s better off not knowing then. Is he frail?”

  “Grandfather?” Chelsea laughed, a big sound that shook her whole body. “God, no. He’s going to outlive us all. Still plays golf, tennis, racquetball, and rows out on the Charles.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I think you probably got your athleticism from him. I love Robbie, but his idea of exercise is bringing his cell phone to his ear.”

  Rhian laughed, then sobered. “Please don’t tell him either.”

  “Robbie?”

  “No. Well, yes. Or your grandfather.”

  She nodded. “I won’t.”

  He must have looked uncertain, because she rushed to reassure him. “Look, if I’d found you in some hovel, destitute, I would have told him two years ago. But by the time my guy caught up with you, you were in the Juniors and being scouted by some big teams.”

  Rhian grinned at her detailed knowledge of the sport and his career. She and her investigator were certainly thorough.

  “Since you seemed to be doing all right, I left it alone and promised that once I was free of the witch, I’d figure out a way to introduce myself.”

  “Which you did.”

  “Well, all I did was stalk you. I was so shocked when you moved to Boston, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t ready, you know?”

  Rhian shrugged. “I hope you’re ready now.”

  She cocked her head. “Does that mean you’ll talk to me again?”

  Shockingly, he was looking forward to it. For all they’d known each other for less than an hour, he had something with Chelsea he’d never felt for another human being on earth.

  Kinship.

  Her hand grasped his. “I get it. I feel it, too.”

  Rhian stared at her for a long time, terrified and elated. He changed the subject before he embarrassed himself. “The guy who grabbed you the other night. Buddy?”

  “Yeah. Our brother the sociopath.”

  “So he takes after mom.”

  Chelsea laughed. “You do remember her.”

  Rhian’s smirk faded. “Yeah. I do.”

  “God, Rhian, I’m so sorry.” She wilted in her seat.

  He shrugged and twirled his empty cup. Chelsea’s phone buzzed in her pocket, not for the first
time. She silenced it without looking.

  “Do you need to get that?” he asked.

  “No.” It immediately buzzed again. She sighed and pulled it out. She managed to enter a text of biblical proportions and hit send in under twenty seconds. The reply was almost instant. She sighed again. “I’m sorry. I do have to go soon. I was supposed to meet some friends a few minutes after we bumped into each other. They’re getting worried after I hung up on them like that.”

  “I understand. I’m glad you have people looking out for you.”

  She glanced meaningfully at Garrick and Savannah. “I’m glad you do, too.”

  He smiled.

  For a long time, they just looked at each other. His sister. It was weird. But not all bad. She asked for his number and he rattled it off while she entered it into her phone under the name Savannah. “Just to be safe.”

  He was unaccountably proud that his sister was so damn clever.

  His phone vibrated. “I just sent you a text, so you have my number, too.”

  He had a way to reach her. It kind of freaked him out.

  “Well, I should go,” she said.

  Rhian nodded and she stood. Garrick and Savannah immediately rose and cut through the crowd.

  “Wait.” God, am I really going to ask this?

  She looked at him curiously.

  “What’s my name?”

  Chelsea’s brows knit with confusion. “What?”

  He swallowed. “On my birth certificate. You mentioned a middle name. I don’t even know if my first name was Rhian.”

  Chelsea went pale, her big blue eyes enormous in her face. “It is Ryan. Spelled the common way. Ryan Robert Williams.”

  Garrick clasped his shoulder. Savannah rubbed his back. They were trying to ground him. And damned if it didn’t work.

  He smiled at Chelsea. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Savannah sat at the island in their kitchen and stared at the massive piles of paperwork scattered around Garrick’s laptop. He was working more hours than ever, though without the signs of strain that had been evident while he’d been in Moncton. He slept like a baby—usually after a shattering orgasm—and took long runs with her and Rhian. She was relieved to see him happy and healthy, but it weighed on all their minds that at some point, he was going to have to go back. Even if only for a few days.

  She needed him here. At least until they were sure Rhian wasn’t going to bolt. Their threesome was coming together, but the glue was still drying and she didn’t think it would work if any of them had to leave before it set.

  Just when the hell that would be, she had no fucking idea.

  Nor was she certain what had to happen to make it stick. She sighed into her coffee. Knowing where the hell Rhian would end up next season would be a big help. It wouldn’t change how she felt or her plans for the future, but Rhian always had one foot out the door, sure that it was only a matter of time before he landed in some city far, far from here.

  One bright spot on the horizon was Chelsea. She and Rhian had texted and planned to get together for another coffee. Savannah was looking forward to getting to know Chelsea. But more than that, Savannah was happy for Rhian. He seemed to be adapting to the idea of having a sibling with remarkable ease. It no doubt helped that Chelsea was another victim of her mother’s incapacity to actually mother anyone.

  And Chelsea created another connection between Rhian and Boston. Another reason to visit, to stay. To make this place his home. Because even if he was traded to Timbuktu, he’d have to spend the off-season somewhere. And come hell or high water, Savannah and Garrick were going to convince him the best place to spend it was with them.

  Rhian’s phone rattled against the hard granite and she fished it from the pile of devices charging on the counter. Since Garrick’s arrival, they’d banished all phones and iPads from the bedroom, ensuring their attention was where it should be. On each other.

  It took her a moment to recognize the three digit exchange for Dana Farber Hospital on the screen.

  Ripping the cable away, she ran down the hallway, sliding her finger across the screen to answer it before it could go to voicemail. She flew across the bedroom and landed on the bed, half on top of Garrick, who fortunately was awake enough to protect his sensitive bits. She thrust the phone at Rhian.

  He took it and pressed it to his ear with a curious look for her.

  “Hello?”

  Rhian’s stomach plunged when he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Mr. Savage? This is Dr. Kantov.”

  “This is Rhian Savage,” he croaked.

  Savannah whispered in Garrick’s ear and then they curled around him. Garrick dragged him back against the warmth of Garrick’s broad chest, while Savannah tucked into his side.

  “I’m calling with good news,” Dr. Kantov offered.

  “Good news?” Now his voice was three octaves higher than usual.

  Arms tightened all around him. He tilted the phone from his ear so Savannah and Garrick could hear.

  “Your lump is something called a sertoli non-germ cell tumor. It’s quite rare, but, happily, also completely benign. I can refer you to a surgeon who can go over the benefits of removal, but in the meantime, you don’t have anything to worry about. You do not have cancer.”

  Rhian laughed. And laughed. He couldn’t stop. He was drunk with relief.

  He managed to thank the doctor and, with Savannah’s help, write down the diagnosis, the name of the surgeon, and how to contact her.

  The moment he hung up the phone, it was ripped out of his hands. His breath left him in a gasping chuckle as two bodies tackled him to the bed.

  Hot mouths attacked his neck, his face, capturing his mouth before showering their affection and relief all over his face, neck and chest. He lay there, stunned, hearing the laughter but hardly recognizing it as his own.

  The lump was benign. He didn’t have cancer.

  The gentle caress of fingers over his increasingly full and tight balls jarred him out of his stupor. He was healthy. Strong.

  And it was time to celebrate. He considered jumping up and down on the bed, screaming like an idiot, but that lacked a certain dignity he liked to maintain. He decided to make Garrick scream like an idiot instead.

  With a twist, he flipped over and pinned Garrick onto his back on the bed.

  He grinned down into Garrick’s happy, smiling eyes. “I want to fuck you.”

  Garrick’s mouth fell open, and his eyes darkened from cinnamon to chocolate. “Okay,” Garrick said, his voice rough.

  Was it really that simple? For the life of him, Rhian couldn’t figure out why the hell he hadn’t done this before.

  He turned to Savannah and found her kneeling beside them, a bottle of lube in her hand.

  “You must have been a Girl Scout.”

  She grinned. “Be prepared is a great motto. Don’t you think so, Garrick?”

  Garrick stared up at Rhian, his cheeks pink, his breathing already faster. “Huh?”

  She leaned down to whisper in Garrick’s ear. “Are you ready to be prepared?”

  Pink cheeks turned red. Garrick swallowed, his cock a steel spike against Rhian’s belly. “Yes.”

  Rhian jumped off Garrick and grabbed his hips. With a single heave, he flipped him over and planted him on his knees.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Rhian,” Garrick gasped.

  Savannah laughed and crawled around to sit facing Garrick. “Look at you.” She ran the backs of her fingers down Garrick’s face. “You like it when he takes control.”

  Garrick nodded. Rhian grinned and spread Garrick’s knees wider. Garrick gasped again.

  “I do, too,” she confessed.

  Garrick groaned and arched his back, tipping his ass up to Rhian.

  Savannah’s smile turned wicked. “Just wait until he’s in you, Garrick. The strength. The power. You’re going to love it.”

  A thin sheen of sweat glowed on Ga
rrick’s skin, his ribs heaving with each deeply drawn breath, and Rhian hadn’t even touched him yet. God, Garrick wanted it.

  Rhian grabbed the lube, all the while scolding himself for being a selfish bastard. He was now achingly aware of how little he’d instigated sex, or any kind of affection or intimacy. With Garrick or Savannah. Garrick’s body pleaded for his touch, his hoarse words confirming what was so evident in every line of his body. His face.

  He needed this.

  From Rhian.

  Who’d held back because he was a coward. And a jerk.

  Rhian swore he would spend the rest of the day, week, month, making it up to both of them. He didn’t believe the three of them were going to be a long-term thing—while he increasingly suspected they did—but he had agreed to stay, for now. And while he was here, he would commit fully. Be an equal partner. Act.

  He traced his slick finger down the valley of Garrick’s ass, watching shivers race over his skin. He paused over the dusky bud of Garrick’s entrance and circled gently. Muscles fluttered beneath his touch. Rhian slid one finger into unbelievably tight heat.

  Garrick groaned, long and loud, his head dropping to hang from his shoulders and rest in Savannah’s lap. Rhian pumped his hand, thrusting easily as Garrick readily accepted him and pushed back for more. Rhian slipped a second finger in beside the first.

  Garrick groaned almost continuously. God, he was going to be ready too quickly, and Rhian wanted to take his time. Savor it. He slowed, careful not to graze Garrick’s prostate.

  Rhian remembered how he’d hesitated a week ago when Savannah had brought out a new butt plug and waved it in Garrick’s direction. Garrick had been more than willing, but even witnessing Garrick’s high color and wicked smile when Savannah had thrust it home, hadn’t snapped Rhian out of his selfishness.

  Garrick had never asked for it. And given that Garrick was generally such a pushy bastard, Rhian had let himself go along, never questioning it. He was an idiot.

  Leaning over Garrick’s back, he rubbed his mouth across the nape of Garrick’s neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this months ago.”

  Garrick’s head lifted and his eyes slowly peeled open to look at Rhian. Rhian couldn’t resist scissoring his fingers, watching those eyes flare before narrowing. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”